the.scattered.psyche

Random Aside

2012-01-19T16:57:00.002-06:00

So an hour and a half(ish) ago, a chopper from one of the area hospitals landed in front of a neighbor's house. It doesn't appear that anyone there was in need of it ... Instead, it seems the chopper is having mechanical difficulties.

Certainly makes the afternoon more interesting. Wish I knew what was going on, though...

SOPA

2012-01-18T13:57:00.000-06:00

As today's hot topic, I send you on to xkcd, the kind of site that wouldn't exist without things like Creative Commons ... which exists largely because there was no SOPA. Mr. Munroe has plenty of information linked on his site if you're curious about what exactly is going on here.

As a blogger and for that matter a child of the information age, the thought of any kind of Internet control makes me a little squeamish. The vagueness of SOPA, however, makes me truly nervous.

However, I would be remiss if I didn't add, "Don't take my word for it." Really, don't. Please read a little on your own and figure your own course of action.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to write my representative.

I'm Almost Disappointed

2012-01-13T18:56:00.002-06:00

From last year. Can't take pictures like this yet this year...

Why? Well, It's Been Awhile

2012-01-12T16:47:00.002-06:00

Dumbest thing I've said today: "How spoiled have we gotten that suddenly 17 degrees is so freaking cold?"

Strictly speaking, I have things I should talk about.

Like the wedding. The wedding was fabulous. And after I finish "fixing up" a couple of pictures (they were taken in a rather dark room), I may post more.

For now, I have little to say of use.

It's finally acting like winter.

My discovery of podcasts last fall has wreaked havoc on life in general. The latest: The Nerdist, introduced to me by BBC America. A fellow nerd interviews people that make nerds like me happy. Like the Eleventh Doctor. (And the Tenth.) The cast of "Community." Patrick Stewart. [Warning to other podcast fanatics: yes, this one has an explicit rating. Yes, it's for a reason.]

Similarly, I've been reminded several times in recent history of why I love The Onion. Sometimes you need to read something that just doesn't take itself too seriously.

Um ... That's about it. Aside from the fit I threw earlier today (something broke and it made me angry), it's been quiet. Not bad, really, just ... quiet.

I'm a little tired of quiet...

Upcoming Fun

2012-01-04T22:08:00.001-06:00

I get to go to a party this weekend. With these yahoos.

I swear, I tried to find a shot where Neubs wasn't trying to lick someone.

That creeper in the background up there is getting married. It should be a good time.

And actually, the yahooiest of our bunch isn't in this shot but will be at the wedding as well. (His pseudonym here starts with an E and rhymes with "D-Train.") It's been awhile since I've been with the whole gang and I'm definitely looking forward to it. Even if there are a few too many engineering conversations.

Time for a family reunion, kids!

You Might Be An Engineer If...

2012-01-03T16:22:00.000-06:00

[Note: As many lists as I've seen out there, this is one that I started myself based on personal observations. Yes, I have at least witnessed every last one of these. Because of that, a good chunk of them are specific to chemical engineers. Exactly five of these are things I haven't done.]

1. You've ever considered a day with two non-work-related conversations a social success.

As always, there's an xkcd for that.
Thanks again, Mr. Munroe.

2. You've ever found yourself using Excel to chart some aspect of your social life.

3. You've ever used the phrase "entry and egress" in real life. [Side note: I just did this. Tripped over a cord and muttered about having to clear up my entry and egress. And then came the requisite head-smack.]

4. You've requested electronics for Christmas. Not the cool ones like iPhones or mp3 players -- the others, like external hard drives or a new motherboard.

5. You've ever taken a test for fun.

6. Your Facebook profile picture was taken in your cubicle.

7. You used the same one for your Match.com profile and now you're not sure why no one responds to you.

8. You know how to use a slide rule.

9. You learned how after 1985.

10. You have ever used the phrases "static systems" or "fluid dynamics" in bar conversation.

11. Or "high pressure alarm."

12. You have drawn more charts and blueprints on napkins than written your phone number.

13. You're into any sport because you enjoy running the numbers.

14. You've noticed that you need to buff your shoes but didn't pick up on the fact that the person you were just talking to spilled coffee all the way down his shirt that morning.

15. You've ever been confused by the presence of a woman in a meeting. (Yes, this may even be true if you are female.)

16. You've marvelled at moving sidewalks in airports. (Or does everyone do that?)

17. You've then mentally constructed a full system of moving sidewalks in your own home.

18. You routinely slow down on the highway to check out structures that catch no one else's eye. (Bridge, tank, tower, tractor...)

19. You might not always have strong political opinions, but you can discuss with fervor the ramifications of life on Mars.

20. Your friends use you as their calculator when trying to divvy up the bill at a restaurant.

21. Or figure out an exchange rate.

22. You don't know who Kim Kardashian married, but you do know the centuries of birth of many historical mathematicians.

23. You've ever made an Einstein pun.

24. You never run out of conversation topics with friends because no matter what, there's a new aspect to your special (hypothetical) oil heater that can be refined.

25. You're repeatedly irritated by the misuse of physics in entertainment.

26. You're confused by some of the majors offered at liberal arts universities.

27. Whether or not you've participated, you've witnessed at least two Star Wars vs. Star Trek arguments.

28. You've ever gone to a play because you needed some "culture." Even if it was only a high school performance.

29. Your skin has ever taken on a mild blue tint thanks to a lack of sunlight.

30. You've ever chosen your seat on an airplane so that you can get a good view of the engines.

31. You regularly straighten the pictures in other people's homes.

32. You are personally offended that regular LEGO buckets are so hard to come by nowadays.

Just a small sampling...

The Calm

2012-01-02T14:49:00.000-06:00

We had a fantastic week with family -- one of my dad's brothers and his crew were here before Christmas and just left a couple hours ago. Meaning, of course, that the week was filled with conversations, games, and waiting in line for the shower.

Now the company has left, the house is almost undecorated, and we're hitting that last-day-of-vacation-mid-afternoon-stretch. There's a fire in the fireplace, the books have come out, and at some point in time someone turned on the Jimi Hendrix.

This was always my least favorite day of the year growing up. I wasn't excited about going back to school. I hated undecorating. It was usually cold and icky outside and by this point, Mia Sorella and I weren't always getting along anymore.

When I got to college, it meant another week of vacation. After college, it was just another day before work again. Now...

Now it's just Monday.

An odd feeling to be sure, but at least this way I can enjoy the calm.

Besides, there are a couple more days where we may play Settlers ... and at the end of the week, I get to go to a wedding.

Really, not a bad start to 2012.

The First

2012-01-01T22:04:00.000-06:00

And so it begins.

Happy New Year.

On The Eve

2011-12-31T14:16:00.000-06:00

Normally, about this time each year, I'm feeling rather pessimistic.

Normally, you'd be reading a brief tirade about the state of the world.

Normally, this would be my tired, glad-it's-over piece.

Normally.

Here's the thing: I didn't have a great year. I didn't have a bad year, either. For one reason or another (maybe simple caffeination), I'm feeling optimistic about next year.

As I get ready to quietly ring in 2012, I find myself making plans. Plans for travel, plans for jobs, plans for (hopefully) grad school. I see a year of motion ahead and that makes me happy.

Happy New Year, all. I hope your best is yet to come.

---

2011-12-29T00:27:00.000-06:00

Any week that starts with Christmas is a good one.

This one has included some particularly good stuff. A fabulous gift in the form of an embroidered apron. A lot of fun wrapping some other gifts, including a mixer in the wrap-each-part-in-paper-so-it-looks-the-same-but-is-just-covered-in-paper fashion (with a bow). A Packers win. A lot of Settlers of Catan.

And since Shorty's home, a lot of Who. Which mostly means I was reminded that Matt Smith in a Stetson is a very good thing.

What can I say -- I'm into nerds. Moreso than even I realized.

Of course, there's also the fact that there are extra people in this house.

So overall a good week. The kind that hasn't left any real time for much of a quality post. I'd apologize, but truth be told -- I'll take a fun, busy week.

Hey, have a good weekend anyway.

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T11:54:00.002-06:00

I love a holiday when you can dress like a demented elf and it's all okay.

I also love a holiday where the house fills with people and food and great smells.

Merry Christmas, everybody. Hope your day is filled with fun, no matter where you are and who you're with.

Not A Silent Night

2011-12-24T14:17:00.000-06:00

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register.
(Luke 2:1-3)

The innkeeper had been swamped for the last few days. More than once he had turned away guests, and a couple of times he had nearly evicted others for their loud revelry. His own house was crowded with his in-laws. To tell the truth, he was just looking forward to the completion of the census so he could go back to his usual clientele of merchants passing through.

It wasn't just his inn; the whole town was crowded. The decree required that everyone return to their ancestral homes, which for many had meant long days of travel and a reception by family they hadn't seen in years. Sounds of family feasts and happy homecomings had been echoing down the city streets for the last few nights, a second harvest party for the year.

When a carpenter from Nazareth and his wife came from the direction of the only other inn in town, though, his hands were tied. They were different -- young, traveling alone, and she was very pregnant. The carpenter's family must have been long gone if they didn't have relatives with whom to stay, and the stress of the day was starting to show on the soon-to-be-father's face. His wife was still calm, but he knew the man would be hard-pressed to maintain his own calm if his wife went into labor before they were settled.

He did what he could -- there was no way he could turn away a couple in such need, if only because his wife would have his hide. A couple of cots in the garage wasn't much, but it was warm and dry and more than they were likely to find in the home of a stranger. Besides, the animals were quieter company than his other guests and the stable was close to his own house.

His wife brought them blankets and bedding. When she came back to the house, her mouth was set in a thin line -- the woman had just gone into labor, and she already knew for a fact that the town midwife had gone to her husband's village to register. She sent her husband scurrying for fresh hay while she gathered the clothes and blankets left over from their own last child and went back to the stable.

No first birth has ever been truly easy, but this young mother dealt well with the pain. Her husband was far more frantic until the moment the child arrived.

For the first time that night as the young mother held her baby, true calm settled over the stable. He was a beautiful child and surprisingly quiet. The innkeeper's wife would say for years that she was sure she saw the baby smile at her as she set him in his mother's arms.

As she slipped back the house to allow the little family some time to themselves, she was happier than she had been in months.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
(Luke 2:10-12)

It was calmer among the herds. From their perches on the hillsides, the shepherds had watched the parties in town slowly die down as the night progressed. Their own herds were quiet, hunkering down for the night. A couple of the shepherds had dozed off, vowing to take the second or third watches if they could just get some sleep right now.

One young shepherd was in his own little world. His older brothers had moved on from the herds; one of them was managing another man's lands while the other was married and settled in town as a blacksmith. On the other hand, as a shepherd, he was just getting started. He was at the bottom of the social chain and knew that if he wandered into town that evening to join the family party, he'd smell of livestock. It didn't matter -- he had work to do here -- but he couldn't shake the feeling that he really didn't have a place with those people.

When a dazzling figure in white appeared in the field, he thought for a moment that he was hallucinating.

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
(Luke 2: 13-14)

They broke a cardinal rule: they all left the fields.

But when a chorus of heavenly angels tells you to go, you go, and you don't waste time. Following the directions the first angel had given they headed for the inn's stables. Sure enough, there amongst the animals were two adults and one tiny newborn.

The shepherds were quieted by the sight but the child's mother welcomed them warmly. She was calm with an air that she Knew Something, a fact the shepherds would discuss amongst themselves later. Under her watchful eyes, they knelt next to the tiny baby, taking him in and wondering what exactly this child would become, why it was that they were the first to know of his existence.

As they left, they couldn't contain their excitement over the night's events. They shouted the news, adding to the noise in town with a very different kind of joy.

When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.
(Luke 2: 17-19)

The shepherds had been right: the baby's mother did, in fact, Know Something. She wasn't yet sure of where these things were going, but she knew her baby was special. He had been chosen for a specific purpose, and for some reason she had been chosen as well.

She watched her husband as he held the baby and knew he had been carefully chosen as well. He was a godly man, but it wasn't every godly man that would have still married her after finding out she was pregnant, nor was it every man that would have accepted her explanation. During their long trek from Nazareth, he told her of a visit from an angel, much like her own story, and of his decision to stay with her. He had even talked of training the boy in his own profession, a sign to her that he was accepting him. Now, as she watched them together, she knew her husband had accepted this beautiful baby as his own.

She found herself wondering how much of this her own son knew. Was he too gifted with an explanation from birth? Would he grow up knowing his purpose? Would it gradually come to him as he aged?

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”
(Matthew 2:1-2)

Their journey began as a star appeared. These scholars -- like the others around them -- believed that such heavenly events marked the birth of royalty. As was their custom, they set out to find this royalty, following the star as it led them to Judea.

When they asked the king himself who his heir would be, his confusion in turn confused them. True, they hadn't yet reached where they thought the star was resting, but surely a royal birth would be known to the current ruler.

They had read the ancient texts and were thrilled when those and the star led directly to Bethlehem. There, they found a boy born when the star appeared and were overjoyed and puzzled. This peasant boy was to be a great ruler? He was the son of a carpenter. A carpenter from a long line of rulers, perhaps, but that was ancient history. This was an average family in an average town, certainly nothing that would make you look twice.

Yet they knew what they had seen and followed and they had no doubt this was where they were to stop.

The boy's mother once again found herself watching. This child -- normal in appearance and upbringing, if not always in demeanor -- was receiving visits from distant men with expensive gifts. While she certainly had a mother's bias, this just proved further that he was special.

She could only wonder what might follow such a visit.

Yeah.

2011-12-23T11:37:00.000-06:00

Long week.

Wake/funeral.

Not enough sleep.

Last-minute shopping.

Lots of cleaning.

Now family starts arriving. That's good -- but it certainly doesn't bode well for that "rest" thing.

Yep. Definitely Christmas.

Hey!

2011-12-14T19:39:00.002-06:00

Once again, on the not-serious side of things ...

To my math nerd friends: go take a look at this comic. I'm a new devotee of Incidental Comics. They amuse. Monday's is great.

Thank you. That is all.

Yes.

2011-12-11T20:02:00.000-06:00

Find life experiences and swallow them whole. Travel. Meet many people. Go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys. Try everything. Exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life.
- Lawrence K. Fish

(Totally ripped this off a FB friend. But she's pretty awesome ... and so's the quote.)

All Right, I'm Going To Indulge A Little.

2011-12-08T12:29:00.000-06:00

Last year, I wrote about my personal Packers history, and since then I've mentioned them far more than I ever thought I would. Today (in the interest of a non-serious post with at least a little purpose), I give you...

Eight Reasons I'm Proud To Be A Packers Fan

1. It's the only community-owned team in the States. (They have their 5th stock sale going on right now. I wish I could join in...)

2. They had the guts to tell Brett Favre that no, he couldn't come back unconditionally (he would have to compete with Aaron Rodgers for the starting position) -- and when he didn't like that they traded him and ended up with Clay Matthews. I'd say that overall, that move has worked out rather well for them.

3. Fans will get behind players they refer to as "Packer people" and will similarly shy away from players that don't fit that. (Guys I've heard mentioned as "Packer people" include guys like Donald Driver, who writes children's books, the rather reformed Charles Woodson, and Coach McCarthy, who has stated that he likes Green Bay enough to want to stay there even after he's through coaching.)

4. Their arrest record is in the middle ground of the NFL (whereas a certain conference rival happens to top it). This sounds a little dubious, but in my research (hey, I knew I had to back it up), I found that a) the arrest rate of NFL players is actually lower than that of the general public, and b) the Packers' tolerance policy appears to be fairly strict.

5. The riding-bikes-to-training-camp tradition is fantastic.

6. I've met other fans nearly everywhere I've gone.

7. Every game at Lambeau Field has been sold out since 1960. There's serious fan commitment there.

8. This season. I mean, holy cow. It's been fun to witness.

70 Years Later

2011-12-07T11:44:00.000-06:00

A few other things are in the works, but today I'd rather send you toward some other sites.

The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial

The Wikipedia article on the attack

A CBSNews article on Pearl Harbor's 70th

This one has existed on Facebook (etc.) for a few years, but I want to clear something up: if you'd like to send a Christmas card to a recovering soldier, do not send it to Walter Reed Hospital. It won't reach its destination.

However! You can send one to the American Red Cross through their "Holiday Mail for Heroes" program found right here. Be quick, though, you only have till Friday.

If you're lucky enough to still have a World War II vet around, take a minute today to give him your thanks.

Suburbia

2011-12-05T17:01:00.000-06:00

Almost eighteen years ago, we moved out of town to a quiet back road. There wasn't much to this new neighborhood -- a gravel road in need of more regular maintenance, two or three new houses, and a few houses that had been standing for quite a bit longer -- but it was the escape my mother (a country girl by birth and a city resident by force) needed.

As time went on, our side of the road filled but the neighborhood maintained a certain "removed" air. There was still a divide between us and neighboring towns. We could still walk to the trees a half-mile behind our house to build tree forts and catch frogs; we could still leave doors unlocked without too much concern. Even better, we had a ready-made starting point for trick-or-treating, in an area that only got the neighborhood kids and almost guaranteed a good haul.

We knew our neighbors, by name if not always well. It was good.

Other houses went in north of us, creating a spin-off neighborhood. There were quiet signs of suburbia starting to appear, but nothing major.

So it remained until I went to college. Then one day as I drove home, I saw the beginnings of houses in the corn field behind the house. And, far more alarmingly, there were advertisements for lakeside property.

Lakeside? In a corn field?

Our own neighborhood shifted; several families left, fearing city taxes and general encroachment. All the while, the field behind the house was sold off in pieces.
Then, they dug a big hole and it filled with water. Seems this man-made lake was an answer to the perpetual slough back there. A second hole was dug, roughly where the trees had been. A water tower was built. Roads were paved. A daycare went in.

Now, there are around 80 houses, several apartment buildings, and a long line of townhouses where we used to play. The area is officially "city" property -- the boundary sits at our backyard.

The housing crisis hit there, too, shown mostly in the number of houses that went back up for sale. As it turns out, McMansions aren't on everybody's budget, much less McMansions with shoreline. But new ones kept popping up anyway.

Even now, there are almost always three houses being built. As soon as one is done, another will start; before too long, the remaining empty lots (now littered with construction trash and the occasional volunteer corn plant) will be full and they'll have to add on a street and expand again.

The strange thing about all of this -- despite my general feelings about subdivisions and the lack of creativity in the houses built -- a big part of me kind of likes it. I understand people's desire to live out here. I mean, I came back (and not entirely not by choice). For now, it's still quieter and you can still see the sunset.

It's only a matter of time, however, before things start to feel just a little too cozy. This once-quiet neighborhood gets more traffic than it ever has (certainly more than a gravel road should) and the town is starting to stretch its legs. By the time we're completely crowded in, my parents will be itching for space once again.

And that should make life interesting.

---

2011-12-01T18:36:00.001-06:00

It's that time of year again -- time to stand on precariously stacked boxes and fish around for another one, time to risk electrocution with strings of lights that may actually be older than dirt, time to stand a big fire hazard up in the living room and cover it with highly ignitable plastic trimmings, time to unearth pictures in festive frames and remind yourself of that time your dad and his siblings got into a big argument just in time for dinner.

Okay, okay. I actually kind of like decorating for Christmas. As long as I can remember, it's been one of the very first things we do following Thanksgiving -- crank up music, dust off the boxes, and spend a couple of hours sprucing the house up.

But boy, we put ourselves at an awful lot of physical risk.

Happy December, folks.

Scrooge-y

2011-11-28T14:13:00.001-06:00

One holiday down, two to go.

I don't quite remember when my expectations for this season started to change, but at some point in the last decade, the shift began. Then, when I wasn't paying attention, Cyber Monday and Small Business Saturday were added to the mix.

Maybe my memories of a simpler time are somewhat skewed. I remember a time when you didn't hear Christmas music in department stores till at least late November. I remember a time when people didn't line up for a Black Friday sale until Black Friday. I remember a time when there was no way you'd be buying your ten-year-old a new cell phone, much less an iPhone.

Hm. My "simpler times" memories aren't really that simple, are they?

All the same ... Why the stress? Why can't we just enjoy it? I mean, it's all supposed to be fun, right?

It saddens me a bit that I'm almost feeling more relief that Stage 1 of Holiday Psychosis is done than joy about the upcoming stage. (Of course, if Crazy Target Lady was really gone, that would help greatly.) It's a long, hard haul till January 2nd and it's too early to wear a person down now.

Maybe it's lucky that there are still four weeks to get into the spirit. I may need every last bit of them.

And It Was Good.

2011-11-27T22:42:00.001-06:00

I had a great Thanksgiving.

There was some of this...

(I was making breakfast. Fancy french toast whose recipe I must write down.)

And later ... some of this.

Fun fact: cranberry sauce is much tastier when it comes out in the shape of the can.

(I had to take a picture. This is the only canned food we have on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Heck, we didn't even have green bean casserole this time, which while not canned itself involves use of canned food. It was a pretty fantastic meal.)

Then there was this ... Olives on fingers are tradition around here.

And plenty of this.

And a little of this.

And way too much of this, if that's possible.

And then there was the hand and foot marathon. Mom's turn to lose three in a row.

Then, just to make the weekend more perfect, there was this.

Seriously. I don't remember the last time a movie actually made me laugh from beginning to end, but this one did it. A big part of it was definitely Chris Cooper as an eeeeevil oil tycoon. ("Maniacal laugh ... maniacal laugh...") Given that his roles are usually deadly serious, playing the only "serious" role seemed about right.

And hilarious.

There it is. My weekend in a nutshell, minus a birthday outing last night that was also great fun. Hope everybody else's holiday was as good -- or better -- than expected!

Thankfulness

2011-11-24T13:19:00.000-06:00

So I'm sitting in the kitchen, eating some of our random appetizers, wearing my jersey and ... commenting on the colors available for a Kitchenaid stand mixer.

Oh yeah. It's a family holiday.

After what has been a somewhat tumultuous year, I haven't been good at thankfulness. 'Tis the season, however, and by all means I should give it a try.

I am thankful...

... for getting to see my sister this year.

... for having a place to live and ways to get by despite things not always going as planned.

... for references coming through in a pinch.

... for good travel weather for Shorty.

... for good weather in general. It's a fabulous day.

... for home-grown vegetables.

... for 10-1 / 11-0. Whichever way it goes is ... probably okay. (I definitely have a preference -- right now I'm just hoping for no major injuries. And there are some Lions fans who I don't want getting that satisfaction.)

... for insight.

... for pumpkin pie.

... for comparative peace.

... for sugar and flour and baking soda and milk and the magic of chemistry.

... for the four of us still being able to gather in one place for one more year -- especially if we can catch Mia Sorella on Skype later.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Soundtrack Issues

2011-11-23T13:33:00.001-06:00

You lie awake at night
With blue eyes that never cry
All you remember now
Is what you feel

Help!

This is why
Why we fight
Why we lie awake
This is why
This is why we fight
And when we die
We will die with our arms unbound

I seem to be going through a depressing music phase.

When all the world is spinning 'round
Like a red balloon way up in the clouds
And my feet will not stay on the ground
You anchor me back down
I am nearly world renowned
As a restless soul who always skips town
But I look for you to come around
And anchor me back down

Or at least contemplative music. Not all of it's new, but it's dominating my playlists.

I wish I had a coat of silk the color of the sky...

Actually, after listening to pop radio all summer, it's almost a relief.

I was feeling sad
Can't help looking back
Highways flew by
Run, run, run away
No sense of time
Want you to stay
Want keep you inside

In any case, it's starting to affect my productivity. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery?

("Feel The Silence" by the Goo Goo Dolls, "Anchor" by Mindy Gledhill, "Wishing Song" from the Muppets, "Runaway" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs)

Thanksgiving Week

2011-11-22T14:04:00.000-06:00

Does anyone else feel like Thanksgiving pulled a sneak attack this year?

Seriously. I feel like the summer just ended. It doesn't help that I was gone for the first week and a half of November (yeah, you don't get to suspend time to go on a trip -- but I'm having a hard time reconciling my inner timeline to that one). In any case, Thanksgiving feels very ... sudden.

There's plenty going on in this house this weekend as well. In addition to the normal Thanksgiving festivities (read: the food), there's a new Muppet movie being released. If you've turned on the TV in the last two weeks, you probably already know this. (It's even occasionally advertised on Investigation Discovery, which is arguably not the target market.)

As our family is full of Muppet freaks (all five of us, parents and kids -- our parents raised us on "Sesame Street," "Fraggle Rock," and "The Muppet Show"), this is kind of a Big Deal. We may even -- gasp! -- pay for tickets to one of the regular theaters instead of waiting for it to hit the cheap theaters.

On top of that, the Packers get to play in Detroit. The only downside I can see to that one is that the game overlaps with the Macy's parade ... I'll have to flip back and forth if I'm going to catch Santa.

Don't judge me.

And so it is that we head into the long weekend. Despite the sneak attack, it's something of a relief to slow down and enjoy the beginning of the season. I'm looking forward to some quality time with Shorty, some solid family game time, and of course some fantastic food.

And "The Muppets." And hopefully the Packers going 11-0.

Life is good.

Umm...

2011-11-21T15:46:00.001-06:00

Anyone else out there looking forward to this weekend so that Target's freaky "Black Friday lady" commercials can go away?

Ending Up

2011-11-21T08:21:00.000-06:00

Thursday morning, we awoke to cooperative weather and our last chance at sightseeing. Our plane was leaving that evening; we had the morning to see what we could see.

Mia Sorella delivered us in Gangnam, arguably the most affluent area of Seoul, with the task of finding some street food and taking a few more pictures. She once again headed for work -- and we hit the streets.

It was immediately apparent that Seoul was different here. It had been clear all week -- the city looks markedly different depending on where you are, whether it's crawling with college students or foreigners, or it's a more residential spot. In this case, we were suddenly surrounded by expensive suits and more of Seoul's trademark cleanliness ... this time with no sign of those who kept it clean.

Down a side street, we found our first market and part of lunch. I had been eyeing these fish-shaped fried somethings all week -- more out of morbid curiosity than anything -- and now was my chance. For roughly a dollar, I got three.

Turns out they're simply filled with red bean paste and fried. I liked them; Mr. Rogers was still not taken with the paste.

Further down, we got pictures of spices for sale and long stretches of tables. We were the only foreigners in sight; after our experiences in Itaewon, this felt like Seoul again.

Back on the main drag, I found myself with a new challenge: there were coffee shops everywhere. Not a Starbucks on every corner (although there were several of those), but there was no shortage of caffeine.

The Seven Monkeys started it all.

An hour and half later, I had shots of fifteen different stores, from Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts to the Seven Monkeys and this Beansbins.

Along with some cool buildings...

...Gumby's cousin...

... and a crab place.

See?

After a bit, feeling like the weary travelers we were, we headed back to the apartment. A run past the local grocery store and a ddeokbokki stand later, we finished packing and gave Mia Sorella a call to say goodbye.

It was strange, leaving. The tide was higher than when we arrived; this time, there was water under the bridge across the bay. The sun set while we waited in the airport; our trek would be almost entirely in the dark.

I didn't sleep on the plane. I wanted to -- it just didn't happen. While it may have had something to do with the man I ended up seated by (who drank heavily and was really chatty for the first couple hours, unfortunately), it could have been worse: Mr. Rogers got stuck between two kids. By the time we landed in San Francisco, we were both running on very little.

It was dark when we landed in Denver. According to our flight times, we had traversed the globe in about ten minutes. Good for us, since that also meant that normal sleeping hours were not far off. A drive to Fort Collins, a stop for a burger, and then our 40-hour day ended at the home of a friend.

While there was still a fairly hefty road trip ahead (six-ish hours for Mr. Rogers, 12-ish for me), the trip was mostly behind us. We were back on home soil, so to speak, with only a semi-familiar drive to make.

And as good as it was to be back, reality didn't seem like nearly as much fun.

Taking Pictures From A Bicycle Built For Two

2011-11-20T08:38:00.000-06:00

On Wednesday, we awoke to beautiful weather for our last full day in Seoul.

Mia Sorella had one last event on her checklist and we headed straight there that morning. Yeouido ("Useless Island") Park is right on (in?) the Han River and is a prime spot for a) sightseeing and b) renting a bike.

And so it was that we ended up with two bikes -- a tandem for Mia Sorella and me, and a slightly-too-small mountain bike for Mr. Rogers.

He grabbed the biggest one he could. Honestly.

We worked our way down the sidewalk, taking pictures and enjoying the weather. Within fifteen minutes, we had reached one end and turned around.

And then ... Disaster struck.

We broke the bike.

Apparently it wasn't up for the hill.

Ten minutes later, we had a new bike and were headed the opposite direction.

Along the river...

... Past the swans ...

... beyond the National Assembly ...

... under a bridge ...

... or two.

After a well-spent morning, Mia Sorella took us to Itaewon ... chiefly because we hadn't yet been there.

The thing to remember about Itaewon is that it is the area most populated by foreigners. Up until this point, we had been able to count the number of non-Koreans we saw each day. Now, we weren't just surrounded by foreigners, but by foreign food and English signs.

It was a little surreal.

Mia Sorella left us there and headed for work; we wandered, doing a little shopping and finding places to take pictures.

Before too long, we were aiming back for Banghwa and the apartment.

Leading to the only pictures I took in the subway.

[A cruise ... to Mount Rushmore!!]

Including an empty-except-for-us subway car, unheard of until that time.

That night was dinner with the family of a couple of Mia Sorella's students, including the "other Ashley." Unfortunately, the kids froze up before they talked to us ... but their parents were amusing enough.

Oh, and there was more candy to be given. (Suddenly, I too am craving Pop Rocks...)

And then.

And THEN.

Came the live octopus.

[Photo stolen from Mr. Rogers ... so this is as big as it gets.]

[And this one's stolen from Mia Sorella.]

All right, all right. "Freshly dead" octopus. Bottom line: still moving.

Still clinging.

Surprisingly moderately tasty, particularly if you drenched it in red pepper paste or wasabi.

Now, not so tasty? Octopus heads, which the owner of the restaurant gave us as well. (She was excited about us first-timers.) Turns out steamed octopus heads taste a little weird. And they leak ink, which is just that much more disgusting.

This was almost our last food challenge ... which was good, since it was also our last full night. In 24 hours, we'd be on our way back to the States...

Giving Kids Candy In The Park/A Family Meal

2011-11-19T09:12:00.000-06:00

(Yeah, this is a long one.)

After our return from Panmunjom, Mr. Rogers and I had a couple unexpected hours to kill. As it turns out, Mia Sorella has a great neighborhood park just a couple blocks from her apartment, and

after a bit, that's where we ended up.

We'd been there the day before with her to explore and now we were on our own. Now, I should mention something: this is not like an American neighborhood park. First of all, it's quite large. Secondly, there's exercise equipment scattered around. Third, it's mostly populated by older folks, including a large population of old men playing something like checkers. And fourth ... there's a pretty good-sized hill on one side.

That had more to do with that Seoul's-surrounded-by-mountains thing than anything, but it doesn't change the fact.

Ah yes. And don't forget the Hula Hoops of Torture.

Seriously. Why would you stud a hula hoop with
ANYTHING?!

Anyway! We head for the park. Mr. Rogers is there for exercise; I'm there for fresh air and new spot to write. As we enter the park, a kid on a bike waves at us -- turns out it's one of Mia Sorella's students and boy, is she excited to see us again.

We wander briefly before Mr. Rogers heads up the hill and I find a bench to sit and people-watch.

Now, I admit that ... I stand out a little. I'm the only foreigner in the park and I attract plenty of stares. But I'm keeping to myself and for the most part I am entirely ignored.

After a few minutes, though, the kid that recognized us when we walked in turns up on her bike. Sue (I told you she'd turn up in a story again!) is thrilled to see me and scrambles up onto the bench. She asks -- haltingly -- where Mr. Rogers is and I point at the hill. At that point, she apparently decides she will wait for him. For the next half an hour or so, we entertain each other -- me with my three words of Korean, her with her six-year-old English, and both of us able to draw pictures back and forth.

Luckily, it doesn't take much to entertain a six-year-old. Or me.

And yes, at one point I was giving this kid candy.

Somewhere in here, a slightly drunken ajossi (old man) wanders over and -- smilingly -- starts asking questions. I, of course, can't understand a word he's saying, and clearly he doesn't know English. For a couple of sentences, Sue can translate a little (she tells him I'm a teacher, which is close enough to the truth) and then we're both baffled by this strange old man who just ... keeps talking.

And keeps talking.

At this point, I can only take my cues from Sue, who just looks ... bored. After about five minutes of this -- although it felt like much longer -- I'm trying to figure out how to walk away without totally offending him when a passerby walks up and asks if he can help.

I was embarrassingly grateful. He translates for us for a couple minutes -- and it turns out the old man had been giving me a history lesson the whole time. Several of the places we had visited are known by the wrong name because the Japanese changed them during the occupation.

And he just wanted me to know. How do I find these people?

As luck would have it, the imposing (and sweaty) Mr. Rogers appeared a couple minutes after that, interrupting both the ajossi and the helpful guy. (I believe this was the point where he was compared to David Hasselhoff, although that might have been at dinner that night...) Sue excitedly said hi and then dashed away, no doubt running late to get home, and there were a few more minutes of chat before we excused ourselves and headed back to the apartment.

That night held an entirely new experience. We had been invited to the home of some of Mia Sorella's friends for dinner. Their mother is a former restaurant owner and fantastic cook ... and she wanted to make us supper. So it was that we found ourselves walking into a family-sized apartment in another part of Seoul, not too long after leaving the park.

To say the food was great would be putting it too simply. It was the best meal we had that week. It was also the most complete and I may have eaten just a little too much.

On top of that, the conversation was probably some of the best we had. First there was the somewhat jarring experience of hearing a native Korean speak English (better English than mine) in a British accent. Second, there was the fact that Mr. Rogers once again got to hang out with another guy. Third, there was another pair of siblings present, which added to the humor here and there.

After dinner, the five of us met up with one more of Mia Sorella's friends and we headed for ... the only velvet-covered regular bar I've ever seen. There were even curtains on the booths.

The guys may have had valid complaints about it not being particularly manly.

Scrapbook Hell & Other Stories

2011-11-18T13:47:00.001-06:00

1. I am not a scrapbooker. However, there are times I want to find a regular photo album (such as right after returning from an overseas trip) and said albums are frequently found near the scrapbook sections of craft stores. As it turns out, one o'clock on a Friday afternoon is a bad time to go looking because it leads to me getting trapped in scrapbook hell, surrounded by intense scrapbookers with carts loading up on sales items. I was afraid I was going to have to spend the night in that aisle, subsisting on the mints in my purse ... or climbing the display to escape to the frames aisle.

2. All right, it wasn't that bad. Still, it seems that early Friday afternoon should be safe for shopping. Not so much.

3. I did get to talk to a few random strangers, first about what went best with a Minnesota Twins print (besides, you know, flames) and at some point about the craziness of the Friday afternoon traffic.

4. Speaking of which, Sioux Falls continues to make me crazy. Why do people insist on blocking intersections? What does that achieve?! Every time. It's ridiculous.

5. *Ahem.*

6. One of my favorite coffee joints in Sioux Falls wasn't open today. I hesitate to say they're closed for good, but there was an unsettling lack of window posters.

7. On a related note, it seems coffee has a previously unnoticed effect on me: too much of it and I talk to myself more. Just another unsettling fact.

8. The weather was good enough today for me to wear a skirt with my boots. As in recent years, this was exciting to me; my time at Tech taught me that any chance to dress like a girl should be seized. (I love wearing skirts.)

9. Similarly, at some point I'm going to have to start regularly wearing socks again, and I'm not looking forward to it.

10. I was raised by Ford owners and Sophie is herself a Ford. If that weren't the case, it's possible I could be persuaded to buy a Ford simply because both Mike Rowe and Aaron Rodgers endorse them.

11. Yes, I can be swayed by advertising with manly men. I'm not proud.

12. Even the game I'm playing just called me Rain Man. This is not encouraging.

13. I was recently given the opportunity to embarrass a former classmate. I wonder if that picture's been sent yet...

14. Turns out one late propane guy can really screw with your day, right down to ending up blogging when you intended to be in an entirely different location, doing research for an essay. This is a little frustrating.

Panmunjom.

2011-11-18T09:30:00.000-06:00

Panmunjom, located in Gyeonggi Province, is a village on the de facto border between North and South Korea, where the 1953 Korean Armistice Agreement that ended the Korean War was signed. The building where the armistice was signed still stands though it is on the northern side of the Military Demarcation Line, which runs through the middle of the Demilitarized Zone. It is considered one of the last vestiges of the Cold War. It should not be confused with the Joint Security Area (JSA) nearby, where discussions between North and South still take place in blue buildings that straddle the Military Demarcation Line.

(The opening to Panmunjom's Wikipedia article, in direct opposition to Wednesday's xkcd comic.)

One of the strangest, most sobering experiences of my life occurred on Tuesday.

Tuesday was the day of our DMZ tour. First of all, it's hard to wrap your head around that part: they take tours to the demilitarized zone. Yes. Buses of tourists go to the only quietly active sort-of-neutral hot zone in the world.

And on Tuesday, it was our turn.

It started fairly early in the day. By Mia Sorella's best estimate, it would take us an hour to get to the take-off point. We got dressed up in our business casual and hopped the subway a little before 7AM, heading for the Lotte Hotel.

Until this point, my only time in a five-star hotel was following two weeks on Chinese ethylene refineries. I was dirty, out of place, and still wearing my steel toes when I walked in. This time, we were stumbling in early in the morning, having awoken in a 200-square-foot apartment after a day spent wandering Seoul.

The Lotte is a five-star (I think) monstrosity right in the middle of Seoul, owned -- clearly -- by Lotte, a somewhat enigmatic company that sells everything from candy to real estate. If the hotel weren't intimidating enough, the clientele would probably do it.

Well, aside from the guy in a Vikings shirt who was also going on a tour. Nothing much intimidating about him, either for his dress (arguably too casual for the DMZ rules) or his choice in teams.

Around eight-thirty, our well-dressed crew boarded the bus and our tour guide got to work. We had a strange bunch -- businessmen from Russia (who were always the last ones on the bus), resident doctors from Boston (my opinion of them was ... not high), a pair of guys that may have been from Denmark ... and of course, two straggler Americans with somewhat sketchy backstories. The rules were given right away: we were to take pictures only when allowed, those pictures were not to end up on the Internet, and if we weren't dressed appropriately, we would not be allowed into the joint security area.

That one -- specified several times before we got there -- was finally explained. It was a (counter-)propaganda tour: odds were good pictures would be taken of us from the North Korean side and they didn't want them to end up with any persuasive tools. A couple of people in inappropriate clothing could be used to convince North Koreans that capitalism makes it impossible to have "decent" clothing.

My feet in North Korea. Really.

Our somewhat excitable guide gave us some background as we headed north. The DMZ is a four-mile-wide band between North and South Korea. Each country has two miles officially, and each country has one village within the DMZ; South Korea's is continuously occupied, but North Korea's "Propaganda Village" is not regularly occupied. (Although they do have a very tall flagpole.) The JSA -- Panmunjom -- is in the middle and where peace talks take place.

What I hadn't thought of until then but she pointed out was that we were doing something that Koreans weren't allowed to do. If you weren't working or on a tour, you did not see the DMZ.

At Camp Bonifas, the UN base on the southern edge of the DMZ, we were briefed, papered, and then put in a military bus with a South Korean soldier/escort for the remaining miles to Panmunjom.

It was almost eerie as we exited the bus. This was a place that had been under fire many times, both during the active war and after. This was where defectors had crossed. This was not far from the Bridge of No Return, where prisoners were exchanged after the war.

And this was in fact a hot zone, patrolled on both sides 24 hours a day.

We were shuffled through the building on the edge to the border itself, where we waited our turn to enter one of those blue buildings straddling the line under the watchful eyes of soldiers from the States and both Koreas.

For a rather short minute, I was standing in North Korea.

We were hurried back out in a similar fashion and back onto the bus (amidst increasingly excited cries from our guide to not take pictures), where we headed past the Bridge of No Return and back to Camp Bonifas.

It wasn't until we were officially distanced from the DMZ that things seemed any less tense. From our stop, we could look north over the border and see a train returning from that side over the only tracks that go into or out of the country.

C'mon, I can't be serious the whole time.

That day would hold yet another story and a truly interesting dinner, but for right then I was still wrapping my mind around this whole experience.

And that, dear readers, was the trip to Panmunjom.

The Bucket

2011-11-17T15:22:00.001-06:00

[As always ... There's an xkcd for that!]

Do you have a bucket list?

I like that term, somehow. It's so much easier and less ... chore-like than a "Life To-Do List" or something like that.

Until fairly recently, I didn't really have a list of my own. I mean, there have always been plenty of things I've wanted to see, do, or experience. Someone challenged me recently to start crossing things off that list ... which required making one in the first place.

This, of course, got me to thinking. What exactly is on my bucket list? And would I even want to share them with the vast, unforgiving Interwebs?

In the light of admitting to eating live octopus (oh wait -- I suppose that's an upcoming post!), posting a sampling of this list seemed okay. Some are more easily attained than others, but I think that's just how it goes, isn't it?

1. Attain a Ph.D. Hopefully I'll be working on that one inside a year.

2. Visit every continent. Three down, four to go ... Antarctica is going to be the tough one.

3. Go to a Packers game at Lambeau Field. Okay, so this one is more of a challenge than it immediately seems. Lambeau tickets are not easy to come by. I need to a) win a contest, b) marry rich, or c) become great friends with a season ticket-holder. Not impossible, mind you, but not easy, either.

4. Tango in Buenos Aires.

5. Hug a redwood. If only for the photo opportunity. That's some intense tree-hugging right there.

There are a whole bunch of more specific travel ones (for instance, the farthest south I've ever been -- in any country -- is Port Lavaca, Texas, and I have yet to get to Canada), but that gives an idea. Which begs the question.

What's on your list?

I Wanna Be A Cowboy

2011-11-17T07:05:00.000-06:00

There's another story about this adorable kid, but that's
for another day.

Following our adventuresome weekend, Mr. Rogers and I accompanied Mia Sorella to school for the afternoon.

Now, if we thought we were celebrities before....

The fun started when we first walked in. Mia Sorella had already told her students that her sister was visiting so there wasn't a lot of surprise -- but the stares were present. It didn't help that our "cousin" was over six foot tall and rather imposing.

Mia Sorella's partner teacher -- whom I will call Elle -- was thrilled to see us. And her first class (the youngest of them) was in near awe.

Of course, the introductions helped.

I was her "oni," of course -- her older sister. Nothing complicated about that. And Mr. Rogers, aside from being our cousin, had a much better moniker.
"He's a cowboy!"

The kids went nuts. One boy's first reaction was to jump to his feet and motion at Mia Sorella. "Teacher! Teacher! Sign?"

Yep. He wanted the cowboy's autograph.

What followed was the funniest moment of the day, as he took a seat at the desk and was instantly mobbed for autographs.

Of course, that was only the beginning. They were big fans of the cowboy, from his height to his not-familiar facial hair. One little boy managed to get his hands on a whisker and wrapped it up in a piece of paper to keep it.

Yeah, I thought it was a little creepy, too.

"He is tall!"

During the third class, there was another funny moment as we answered the kids' questions. At the question of how tall we were, Mia Sorella did a quick conversion.

"He is ... 185 centimeters tall!"

"WHOOOOOOOAAAA!!!"

Then was my turn.

"She is ... 163 centimeters tall!"

"WH ... Oh."

Yeah, turns out I'm the same height as many of their parents. I am, however, taller than Elle when she has to take off her rather high shoes -- which earned a laugh.

We only disrupted three of her five classes, as the fourth was not a good one for visitors. When we left, Mia Sorella was also sent packing -- Elle wouldn't hear of her sending us off on our own.

Playing Sparkle with the second group.

It was a good day overall. We followed school with a little history at the Korean War Memorial -- only the outside, since it was Monday and such places are largely closed on Mondays -- and then a view of Seoul from Namsan Tower as it got dark.

Peace Clock Tower.

Elle bought us dinner that night as well, which was entirely enjoyable despite the fact that she wouldn't let me do anything myself. (She even stirred my rice for me.)

The next day was going to be a rougher one: we were headed to Panmunjom in the morning. But for that night, we just got to enjoy the view.

Coastline & More

2011-11-16T08:54:00.000-06:00

It's not the food that makes him nervous
... it's the chopsticks.

Our weekend plans changed abruptly the moment Mia Sorella's alarm went off on Saturday morning. We'd been out a little too late the night before and our original plans -- which involved a four-hour bus ride -- held virtually no appeal. Instead, we slept for a few more hours and then hit the markets.

Now, raise your hand if you've been to a market in any Asian country.

It's something else, isn't it?

There were two versions in Seoul that we checked out. One was the crowded street market we were expecting, and it was impressive. The second type was, in essence, the tallest, most crowded mall I've ever set foot in. Not necessarily people-crowded (we were there near closing) but absolutely packed with stuff for sale, all sold by enthusiastic women who spoke just enough English to sell us anything.

Well, we didn't buy ginseng, but it looked cool...

And of course, somewhere in there was lunch.

This was, after all, a food tour of Korea. Our recovery stew was found in the Korean equivalent of a corner diner and it was pretty much fantastic.

After that, it was time to wander. We managed to find a random festival of some kind in front of City Hall and made our way to the Stream, a fun spot in the middle (ish ... sort of) of the city that was hosting a lantern festival. We managed to appear right before the lanterns were lit.

Somewhere in there, we also found a "Texas"-themed bar ... with Minnesota license plates inside. And New York. And all sorts of random Americana.

It was pretty fun, actually.

We wandered toward Gyeongbokgung again, finding ourselves at the front gates before eventually admitting exhaustion and heading back toward Mia Sorella's apartment. After all, that delayed road trip was happening the next day.

They touched the gate!

That night, Mia Sorella had a late and furious text messaging session with her boyfriend (who I'll just call Jay for simplicity's sake) ... and suddenly our plans the next day were sealed. There would be no four-hour bus ride: we would rent a car and Jay would drive.

He was my hero.

And so it was that we were up rather early the next day and walking to a car rental place just a couple blocks from the apartment. It was, of course, the only day it would rain.

Didn't make it less beautiful, though.

Approximately 130 miles (that's roughly 210 kilometers, for those of you keeping track) straight east of Mia Sorella's apartment and on the East Sea lies the little fishing village of Samcheok. As villages go, it's nothing particularly special. It does, however, have a strange claim to fame in Haesindang Park.

The park cropped up following a certain legend. There are a few different versions of the story, but I'll give you the one from the official South Korea visitors' website:

Legend of Aebawi and Haesindang – There once lived a young maid who was engaged. One day, the maid took her husband’s boat out to sea to harvest seaweed. Her husband dropped her off at a rock that was at a distance from the beach. After promising to pick her up later, he returned to the beach to do his work. Later, the weather changed, and brought with it strong winds and pummeling waves. The man couldn’t rescue his wife and she ultimately drowned. Since then, the village people caught no fish and some said that it was because of the dead maid. To soothe the spirit of the dead maid, the village people made several wooden carvings and held religious ceremonies on her behalf. After a while, the fish slowly returned and the villagers were able to live comfortably again. The place where the maid died was named Aebawi Rock and the building where the religious ceremony is held twice a year was named Haesindang. The ceremony is still honored today as a traditional folk event.

Poor Haesindang.

So here's the thing: I'm not posting pictures of the park. Truth be told, I wasn't even going to mention it because of that family-friendly thing, but completeness won out. And I cannot be held responsible for what you might find if you look it up. Consider yourself warned.

It was, however, a worthwhile, entertaining trip. The coast was beautiful and it was great to get out of Seoul for a day and see some of the rest of Korea. The drive through the mountains (I hadn't realized the whole country was made of them) was fantastic and the food was ... well, fun, albeit accidentally vegetarian. We had to balance that one for the guys by going out for chicken and beer when we got back to the city.

And the upside to the rain and otherwise inclement weather was that the sea was just that much more fun.

Americans/Celebrities

2011-11-15T10:44:00.000-06:00

There's something to be said for being a traveling minority. There aren't a lot of white folks in Seoul, and there are even fewer people over six feet tall. While that second part does not apply to me (in fact, I'm barely average height in Korea), Mr. Rogers frequently attracted wide-eyed stares for the simple fact that he towered over a large percentage of the population. Mia Sorella had warned us a little that people would stare, but she didn't immediately warn us of the other strange facet to being an American in Seoul: parents urge their children to talk to us.

[The candyman can...]

Yes, that's right. They're pushed to talk to strangers. Why? Because we speak English and those same kids are learning English.

The very first day, both of these -- the stares and the talking to strangers -- were proven to us several times.

Our first order of business for the day was Insadong, an area moderately popular with foreigners. Here, we found shopping options, a Buddhist temple, and plenty of food.

As it happened, sweets came with a show. Scattered down the street were little candy shops -- here, men stretched strings of honey-sweetened hard candy drenched in cornstarch, telling a story as they looped it around and around and wrapped up little bundles of nuts or chocolate. The resulting candy was both traditional (the sweets of kings, apparently) and almost surprisingly good.

It might not look like much, but wow,
was this a good meal.

Mia Sorella helped us with lunch before abandoning us to get to work. Now on our own, we wandered for Gyeongbok[g]ung, a very large palace a short walk from Insadong.

Here the celebrity status of Americans was fully realized. Two women walked in right before us (from Maryland and Michigan, now living in Shanghai) and not long into their self-tour were taking pictures with kids.

As our wandering continued, this became much clearer. Kids on field trips greeted us, from high school age right down to the preschoolers in their matching uniforms. It was amusing (and at times just a little on the ridiculously cute side). The celebrity status wasn't helped by the fact that having Mr. Rogers around was a little like having your own personal paparazzi.

Seriously.

It was kind of insane.

At least I'm actually smiling in that one. That's moderately rare.

See? Far more normal.

It was a beautiful day, if a little overcast. I found myself astonished by the simple fact that every time I took a picture, I could get a mountain in the background.

It's the little things in life, isn't it?

That night held another food adventure (with a couple more foreigners) and the reintroduction of Soju. Before that, however, we got to enjoy a little of what Seoul had to offer.

Even if the staring was a little disconcerting.

An Aside

2011-11-14T20:36:00.001-06:00

Since landing back in Sioux Falls on Saturday (figuratively speaking, since I drove and Sophie doesn't catch as much air as the Flying Jeep did), I've felt remarkably ... normal. Jet lag has caught me before but this time I seem to have dodged a bullet. I'm sleeping normal hours (well, normal for me anyway) and haven't been randomly exhausted in the middle of the day.

Which is good, because there's just a little too much to do this week.

But that's not really what I wanted to tell you today. I have a story...

I went shopping today ... or browsing, as there were no purchases ... and someone called me a hippie.

Not in a fun way, not in a teasing way, but in a I-actually-think-you're-a-hippie-and-that-makes-me-uncomfortable kind of way. A complete stranger, no less.

I'm still not sure what brought that on. We weren't talking politics (which probably wouldn't make me seem like a hippie anyway), we weren't discussing the latest in electric cars, I was wearing fairly normal November-in-the-Midwest clothing, and I'm reasonably certain I didn't smell of patchouli. For that matter, I was in a JCPenney -- not exactly known as a hippie hangout -- and wasn't really having a conversation with that person at all. (I was talking to a woman that worked there. About dresses.)

It was enough to make me pause. Do I put off unintentional hippie vibes? And if so, what the heck does that mean? Can unemployment be sensed? Is a sweatshirt mid-day a bad thing? Or is it the Soju charm hanging from my cell phone?

Of course, she might have just been crazy.

Trials & Travel

2011-11-14T09:05:00.000-06:00

Twenty-some miles and the Gyeonggi Bay separate Seoul from Incheon International Airport. At high tide, the bay bustles with the usual activity -- fishing boats, barges, and all trimmings. At low tide, however, the bay becomes a vast, impassable march, mud as far as the eye can see.

When we arrived in Seoul, this low tide predicament greeted us. It was admittedly not the prettiest greeting, but we weren't choosy. It had been a long day.

Twenty hours before, we had made our way to Denver International Airport in the winter's second snowstorm. What should have been a half-hour drive quickly grew to seventy-five minutes, followed by a super-sized trip from the park and ride. By the time we settled into our seats to San Francisco, it was a relief to get out of Denver's snow-drenched scenery.

The flight from San Francisco offered a view of Mount Saint Helens and Mount Rainier as we worked our way up the coast. Not long after, I dozed off, not waking until my very Korean seatmates prodded me awake for supper. Sleep would come again -- not easily, but I didn't care. We were almost there.

Mia Sorella surprised us at the airport, having been dismissed by her partner teacher.

"Ashley ... Ashley ... Ashley! ..."

Mr. Rogers nudges me. "I think someone over there knows you."

And so it was that the three of us were sitting on the train together, luggage in hand, as we crossed the mud bay into Seoul that Thursday afternoon.

We arrived in Banghwa (the part of the city in which Mia Sorella lives) and went straight to her apartment. Now, it should be noted here that her apartment is small. Very small. Furnished-efficiency-apartment-in-Asia small. No-full-sized-appliances small. Three-suitcases-of-stuff-and-its-still-full small.

Small. I think you get it.

Generally, there is enough space for Mia Sorella. She doesn't really have much room to spare, but she was graciously letting us stay there instead of spending a couple hundred on a cheap motel. Mr. Rogers made himself moderately comfortable on the floor (well, he didn't complain much anyway) and I occupied half of Mia Sorella's mattress. After a quick meal of galbi (Korean barbeque -- delicious), we were too tired to care much where we were sleeping.

The next morning the fun would really start.

Hunting The Rugged Yuppie

2011-11-13T09:10:00.000-06:00

Across the surprisingly scenic Nebraska panhandle, just over the southern border, the intrepid traveler finds a strange and somewhat elusive prey. Colorado is the natural home of the rare regional specimen known simply as the rugged yuppie.

Not quite a big-city hipster or a small-town redneck, the rugged yuppie is comfortable in both sparsely populated backcountry hiking grounds and a crowded nightclub. Frequently found in various forms of plaid, jeans, and boots (whether fashionable, functional, or Uggs), the rugged yuppie differs from hippies and granolas in large part because of the weather. While he may be found biking to work in the summer months, Denver winters require more capable vehicles and the rugged yuppie is not shy about his SUV.

It was during dinner on Tuesday night -- dollar tacos at a moderately upscale basement cantina in downtown Denver -- that we had our first confirmed sighting of the rugged yuppie.

We had driven down from ranch country, across farming country and into the city. It was no surprise that we were a little out of it, given the miles behind us and knowing what hour we had to get up the following morning. Our first sighting was almost a surprise, but as soon as they started to appear the theory that they travel in packs was confirmed.

Denver is a collection ground for many of these creatures. The city provides both the activity that comes from a high population and the proximity to the challenges of outdoor sports that the true rugged yuppie requires to maintain his sanity. Here, the rugged yuppie is able to snowboard, mountain bike, climb, hike, kayak, outfit himself at one of several REIs, and still be home in time to hit the club circuit that evening.

Unfortunately, our viewing time was limited to a simple safari tour as we were leaving before the sun even rose. It was, however, a good time for observation.

Next time may be a hunting tour. I wouldn't mind catching one of those rugged yuppies myself.

The Calm

2011-11-12T22:58:00.001-06:00

"You should visit."

"I know..."

This short, somewhat frustrating conversation sidebar happened at least once during every Skype conversation I had with Mia Sorella for two years. I always had an excuse -- always lacked either time or money -- and nothing much came of it. Then this summer, I started throwing around November. "I could probably make it happen in November. We'll see how things look after this summer. November might work."

Well, it was October and I still didn't have a plane ticket. Mia Sorella had pretty much given up on me. Then came a brief exchange with Mr. Rogers, who was getting restless in western South Dakota and wanted to hit the road for ... somewhere. Anywhere.

Just a few days later, and only fifteen before takeoff, I had a plane ticket.

There was a lot to be done in the meantime. What was supposed to be the calm before the storm kicked into a madcap flurry of activity; suddenly I had packing to do, things to gather to take to my sister, papers to fill out and applications to submit now. There was the usual pre-trip stuff -- Sophie's brakes had to be checked and I was doing my customary overpacking -- and before I knew it, it was the day before Halloween.

That night, I landed at Storm and hung out with Shorty for the evening. The next day, a couple "appointments" in RC with people who had my future in their hands. (And my aunt, just for fun.) Finally, I was out at the ranch, my stuff sorted (clean clothes, dirty clothes, clothes for Korea, and the ever-necessary carry-on bag with 18 hours of entertainment) and my mind on the road ahead...

Home Again

2011-11-12T16:46:00.001-06:00

44-ish hours after leaving Seoul, I'm finally back in Sioux Falls. And wow, do I have a lot of stories for you.

Groan all you want. The pictures are pretty cool.

Anyway! Brace yourselves, all three of you.

Quickie

2011-11-08T00:59:00.000-06:00

So! I'm in South Korea.

Yep.

Been here for a few days, actually. And while I don't intend to give you an update now, rest assured that there will be plenty to report later. (Including pictures, which is partially why I'm not updating now...)

In any case, we made it here mostly intact (irony: leaving Denver has been the hardest part) and we'll be headed back in a couple of days. Sadly.

And that's all I've got.

Get Set...

2011-11-01T00:18:00.004-05:00

At last.

My bags are packed. [I'm ready to go... Stop that, Ashley.] I'm reasonably sure I've planned for most possible catastrophes, although -- just my luck -- now it's supposed to snow while we drive to Denver. Of course.

Nothing I can do about it. Instead, I'm wrapping up loose ends here so I can hit the ground running when I get back. It's quite strange, actually -- instead of getting all my work done so I can leave with a clear conscience (I'm thinking of when I went to England in 2009), I'm just making sure I've emailed all the proper files to myself so I can do a little random business in Seoul. It's an oddly low-pressure situation.

Tonight, I get to take it moderately easy. Tomorrow, driving and an eventual break at Daz's place. And then dark and early Wednesday morning, we head for the airport.

Then it's 18 hours of airport time till Seoul.

Life is good.

---

2011-10-29T20:14:00.002-05:00

T-minus ... oh, 18 hours or so and counting. Then the fun really begins.

Of course, first I need to finish packing.

Good thing I basically have all night. Egads.

(To Mia Sorella: Requesting powdered sugar was kind of a dirty trick.)

Happiness Is...

2011-10-28T08:11:00.000-05:00

... applying for jobs simply because they sound like fun.

... talking to strangers in bars for extended periods of time.

... fall colors.

... going on vacation even if you don't really need a vacation.

... mechanics who don't fix things that don't need fixing (and don't charge you for the "check").

... weather improving before I drive into it.

... surprisingly cheap plane tickets.

... restaurants where you can eat alone and not feel like an alien.

... pumpkin cupcakes.

... French-press coffee.

I'd rather gut something with my bare hands than stick my fingers in its poop.
- My mother

Shopping With Ashley

2011-10-27T14:57:00.002-05:00

As a general rule, I shop alone.

My mother and Mia Sorella can probably vouch for the reason: I am not much fun to take shopping. Especially for clothes. I don't start with an adventuresome spirit and the more suggestions I get from other people, the more I clam up. And the more I clam up, the crabbier I get. Eventually, I can only be appeased by coffee or adult beverages and by then the shopping had best be over.

Today, I decided to venture into town to take care of some pre-trip shopping. I needed jeans, a couple of long-sleeved shirts that could get a little beaten, travel-sized shampoo -- that kind of thing. The jeans were easy (I almost always go to the same store and I know my size ... or I thought I did. I ended up buying a size smaller today, which made me jump up and down cheering in the fitting room) but after that, the self-conversations began.

A typical self-conversation goes something like this:

"Ashley, you should really consider something more colorful."

"But all these colors are horrible."

"Maybe we'll have better luck at a different store."

"Did you just say 'we' like there's more than one of us?"

"Shut up and pick something. I'm tired of this."

"Okay. This isn't terrible. Actually, I kind of like it."

"Of course you do. It's practically the same color as the very shirt you're wearing. Branch out a bit, would you?"

"Fine! This one!"

"That one? Really?"

"That does it. I'm not talking to you."

And so it went with every other shirt I considered.

It was a fairly successful day, despite the usual self-arguments and the fact that my careful timing backfired. I thought that a Thursday afternoon right after all those 9-5ers ended their lunch breaks was a great day to get some shopping done. Alas, this particular Thursday must be a teacher inservice day, as I was surrounded by kids and parents getting their shopping done as well. Nothing like the self-arguments mingled with tweener girls fighting their mothers to make for an altogether colorful experience.

With that behind me, it's no surprise I retreated to the B once again. It's quieter here. Calmer. And hey, they're playing the new Hugh Laurie blues album, which makes me happy.

Maybe this coffee will help me survive just one more store ... Then I can seriously consider a beer.

Busy Work

2011-10-26T20:20:00.000-05:00

[Copyright Jef Mallet. I love Frazz.]

This is the third post I've started today. Hopefully it won't also be abandoned.

While it hasn't been a particularly packed week, it certainly hasn't been calm, either. It came as no surprise then that when I took a step back, I found that a) I had accomplished more in three days than I probably have in three weeks, and b) I had barely scratched the surface.

It started with the grad school applications. In every case, there is some version of, "Please submit an essay of up to X pages describing your previous research experience and your intended research" -- the academic version of, "Tell us what you want to do for the rest of your life and why we should be the ones paying you to do it."

Intimidating, no? Manageable, but ... scary. I think I'm finally making progress.

When that gets too tough to think about, it's on to the next project: Korea. I've solved most of my major issues -- getting to Denver, where to stay the night before the flight, where to park for the week, where to stay the night after we return -- and my packing list is pretty much as clear as it can be. Now I just need to figure out the rest of the before-and-after ... Am I going to Rapid early? Should I be having meetings with old professors? Are there other loose ends? Am I coming back late? And holy cow, what do I need to pack for all of that?

Naturally, the timing of my departure and return are partially determined by the third project: some kind of seasonal employment. Put simply, I'm bored and I'm tired of not working. Therefore, I should find something to do (plus it'd be good to have a paycheck). Seasonal employment fits right in with the gypsy year, doesn't require long-term commitment, and would also leave Thanksgiving and Christmas open (although not the days following those two consumer-heavy holidays). Plus I'd be free enough to hopefully find additional employment for after the holidays pass. This week has been a spotty week of searching, likely turned up to eleven tomorrow so that I can get these things figured out before the weekend.

It's been a quiet month so I suppose it's about time everything kicked into gear. Now, to get my focus under control so that it all gets done...

Muddled & An Unpaid Advertisement

2011-10-24T16:08:00.002-05:00

Among the entrance essays and the job applications I've been working on this week, I find myself perpetually distracted by preparation for Seoul. It's not exactly surprising -- trip prep is a lot more fun than trying to summarize what I want to do with the rest of my life in a short, succinct manner.

Mia Sorella is pulling together most of the details for while we're visiting. It's a tremendous relief, actually -- reservations are a pain in the neck from half a world away, especially when you don't speak the language. From here, I'm gathering her Christmas presents, packing, and trying to figure out how I'll keep myself amused for a total of 36 hours of plane time and something like 24 hours of car time.

[Wow, is my laptop scratched.]

I have my usual plans -- a couple of books, my journal, a fair bit of writing planned for the flights. I've already decided that I need to finish one of my current books because I don't think I need to raise any more red flags when I'm going through security. (It's about the discovery of HIV and it's simply titled Virus. As someone who frequently gets searched while going through customs, that seems like an unnecessary risk.) What's been particularly fun this time, however, is reloading my mp3 player.

First, an advertisement: I am not an iUser. My mp3 player is a Sandisk Sansa Fuze, acquired from Woot some time ago. I love it. It's a simple load-and-go machine that plays music, video, and pictures and has an FM receiver and a voice recorder that's come in handy a few times. I can expand the memory with a micro SD card. And I spent under $50 on it. (This is not a paid advertisement. Sandisk has no idea I exist.)

I haven't gotten much use out of it in recent history (because, well, I lost it for awhile) which meant that when I plugged it in this time, there was a fair bit of cleaning to do. And I found myself oddly confused by what I was listening to the last time I loaded it.

Not that this time is any better.

A sampling? Full collections of OK Go, Jars of Clay, and the Wallflowers; Packers podcasts; a couple of audiobooks; soundtracks like crazy ("Garden State," "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and "Phantom of the Opera" to start); the collection of tango music acquired from the Admiral and my awesome dance instructors from Wisconsin; the classic rock I've listened to all my life; all of the random pop music I ended up with after this summer (pop radio will be the end of me); my small but strangely-fun-in-an-airport Pavarotti collection; and a bunch of artists of whom I have only one or two albums.

Thank goodness for that expansion card. I need every megabyte I can get.

It's a fun collection, but it led to an unexpected identity crisis. "Ashley, really? Will you really listen to Pride and Prejudice, an in-depth look at the Packers/Saints game, 'Hairspray,' Lady Antebellum and AC/DC at some point?"

Well, yes.

I don't think this bodes well for my focus. Maybe I should just plan on sleeping during those flights.

Logging Miles

2011-10-22T20:40:00.001-05:00

Last weekend, as mentioned, was a trek to Wisconsin. An Oktoberfest, some quality Red Eye time, some face time with Neubs, the Arnolds, and Emma Jean (and a couple of husbands in there who don't have their own special blog-names) ... And about a thousand miles driven. Not on my own vehicle this time -- Sophie's not built for hauling boxes of junk, but my parents' Exploder is quite capable.

Yesterday, I made a quick trip to the ranch. Shorty left his laptop at home and wanted it back (can't say as I blame him) so we met up there. I had a second motive; per new plans, I had to discuss a few things with Mr. Rogers, who is now going to South Korea with me. [As opposed to Mr. Rodgers, who I'd be quite happy to take to South Korea as well. Alas, he has Vikings to beat this week and then some rest to get. Plus, you know, he has no idea who I am.] Seven hundred miles later, I was back.

Next week, the real fun begins. I'm taking the long way to Seoul (right, like there's a short way). Here to Rapid for a night or two, Rapid to Denver for a night, and early Wednesday morning we'll be at DIA to catch our flights to Seoul. Another eight-hundred miles of driving, just next week.

And then the return trip, of course.

I managed to go four months without logging 3300 miles. Now I'm doing it in four weeks.

The weird part? I'm kind of loving it.

Marilyn Revisited

2011-10-21T08:53:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I am not a dietician, doctor (yet), nutritionist, or personal trainer. I have no official expertise in this area. I don't know everything (although don't spread that one around). I can only relate my own story and opinions. Some of this may be more information than you really wanted, but it's all part of the story. And let's face it -- you don't have to be here if you don't want to.

The inspiration for this comes from another blog I occasionally read. I'm not a runner -- I read her blog because she's family and she happens to have some interesting things to say to non-runners here and there. The post I linked to got me thinking ... and now, here we are.

I have never been tiny. When I was little, I had the typical gangly build of a kid that spent her days running around the yard with her sister. Aside from that, it could always be said that I was my grandmother's granddaughter -- my hair, my facial features, my bone structure largely come from that side of the family. As I got older, I started playing soccer and I quite definitely had a soccer player build: I was solid, sturdy, especially my legs. I also developed faster than a lot of the girls, and more than many of them. While I wasn't ever particularly big, to borrow a term from Whitney, there was no way I was ever going to be a Twiggy.

When I went to college, there was no freshman fifteen. In fact, I dropped a few pounds. My eating habits had changed considerably and I had more consistent, regular exercise. This was true until my last semester, after my second summer at Storm, when I started to get softer.

And when I moved to Wisconsin, the weight gain was noticeable.

It's hard for a person to make the transition from an active college lifestyle to a moderately sendentary professional lifestyle. It's even harder to go from lab work to cubicle work, and from hiking for fun to eating and drinking for fun.

Maybe you're seeing the problems I had.

It wasn't until after the layoff that things changed. When I went back to Storm, I lost fifteen pounds without realizing it. For a lot of people, that's hard to understand, but that was just how drastically my lifestyle changed, even without a weight loss goal in mind. And as soon as I realized what was going on, it became intentional.

What changed?

1. Instead of spending eight hours a day at a desk, I was spending eight to ten hours on my feet. Even when I was still in Wisconsin, my weight plateaued the very day I started doing more physical things -- namely, Zumba and ballroom dance with some kayaking tossed in. It wasn't much, but it was regular, and it was fun. Instead of going home after work and watching TV, I was getting exercise. It was really that simple: it's all about activity. A sedentary job just means you have to put actual effort into getting exercise.

2. I started cooking for myself more. Back in Wisconsin, it was easier for me to eat out, but it spelled trouble: suddenly, my own food was out of my hands and I didn't always know exactly what I was getting myself into. When you're the one cooking, you're in control. You know exactly what you're putting into your body and it's much easier to control portions. Leftovers go straight into the fridge instead of taunting you on the plate until going into a less-than-appetizing Styrofoam container. (Or if you're really lucky, a foil swan.)

3. I drank less junk. Like my food, I didn't really give anything up -- but the balance is much improved. No more afternoon Pepsis thanks to boredom, only one beer every once in awhile instead of several regularly. I almost never buy heavily doctored coffees (mochas, lattes, etc.) and I drink a lot more water. People frequently change what they eat but don't always pay attention to what they drink. There are more crap calories in a single can of soda -- regular OR diet -- than in some candy bars. And you don't usually feel full after, so you drink more without thinking about it. It's a vicious cycle and expensive in more than one way.

4. There was a fundamental change in attitude in play. This may very well have been the most important part: I decided that enough was enough. I was doing this for me and no one else. And I wasn't taking any shortcuts. There were no crash diets. I like food too much -- all food, any food -- to take on a structured diet. There was no South Beach, no Atkins, no eDiets, none of that stuff (I almost typed "malarkey" but I know some people have made those work for them). I had no interest in cutting out carbs, meat, sugar, or anything else entirely. There was no way I could realistically sustain any of that. And I didn't drop any weight suddenly -- we're talking changes of about a pound and a half a week, maximum. I am still being as practical as I can about any of this and it seems to be working.

I have goals. This all started because because my previous shape (mostly just "round") was limiting the things I could do. There are hikes I used to do regularly that took more out of me, and that needed to be fixed. There are future goals -- longer trails, kayaking routes, dress sizes -- that I want. When all else fails, those prevail.

That's just the way it is.

Here's the thing: I will never be skinny. I have long since accepted that. Forget accepted -- I don't even want to be skinny. If anything, I want to be Marilyn. I like being curvy and I like being solid. Both characteristics have served me well (and continue to serve me well) and I have no intention of giving them up. In the meantime, I am doing what I can to enjoy my life more, and for me that means being able to do the things I love without my shape getting in the way. What more motive do I really need?

Yet Another List

2011-10-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

12 Things I Don't Do*
(*often, if ever)

1. Pay for Internet access in public places. Really, why would I pay when I can probably go next door and find it for free?

2. Shop at Walmart. They got plenty of my money in college. They don't need it now.

3. Put bumper stickers on my car.

4. Text while driving. (It's not a moral high ground thing. It's a "not worth the fine, especially since I can only seem to text gibberish" thing.)

5. Drink light beer. That's just silly. There are too many good brews out there to drink something that tastes of stale fizzy water. (And that's the slightly more friendly description I have for it.)

6. Maintain my patience with people who drive 5+ mph under the speed limit. It's not quite road rage but it's not quite NOT road rage, either.

7. Maintain my patience with people who make me late for things. Maybe there's a pattern here...

8. Regularly drink doctored coffee. Generally speaking, I'm a black-or-maybe-a-hint-of-cream-if-it's-really-hot kind of girl.

9. Use my credit card for non-emergency purchases. And only because I'm scared of it.

10. Eat enough vegetables.

11. Tan. Not on purpose, anyway. Never have, and given my new inclination toward sunscreen, probably never will. (Don't I have enough random, sometimes unavoidable carcinogens in my life without encouraging a more-preventable cancer?)

12. Maintain any semblance of subtlety while checking out guys in public. I should really work on that one.

Not An Ordinary Wednesday

2011-10-19T10:17:00.001-05:00

I was awake when Fifi pocket-dialed me this morning although I hadn't dragged myself out of bed. She must have been on her way to her first class -- it was extra early there.

Within an hour, I had purchased a plane ticket to Seoul and started poaching a couple eggs for breakfast.

It's about time, really. Mia Sorella's been in South Korea for two and a half years and I finally have both the time and the cash to visit ... although it helps that I got a pretty dang good deal on my tickets. Even last minute.

Now, I have two weeks to figure out the rest of it. What to pack, transport to and from airports, other things to do there ... Good thing I have an inside source.

Not Enough Hours In The Day...

2011-10-16T20:51:00.001-05:00

It's been a year and it felt awkward to return. I suppose it didn't help that I felt a bit like I was running away when I left -- I mean, after I got laid off, I got the heck out of town as soon as I could. That's not totally normal. People frequently find jobs in the same place. But I had no reason to stick around, so I made a mad dash for the door.

This weekend, though, called for a return. I had things to retrieve and an Oktoberfest to attend with the Admiral. Aside from the wind, it was an easy drive, but when I drove into town Saturday afternoon, I felt like I was sneaking in. I hit a couple stores but never stayed long. More than once, I thought, "Ashley, if you stay here too long you might run into someone you know. Do you really want that?"

It didn't help that it was such a short trip. I let a couple people know I would be in town but purposely didn't advertise. Meeting people for "appointments" is less than fulfilling and I just didn't have enough time to do too many visits justice.

And so it was that people found me. As always, I made myself at home at Red Eye -- it's hard not to when you get an enthusiastic greeting just for walking into a building -- and they came. And it was good.

All the same, it's good to be back, holding still again. Any trip east from now on is strictly for fun.

What an odd thought.

Indulgence

2011-10-13T08:32:00.000-05:00

If I have a little money I buy books; and if any is left, I buy food and clothes.
-Erasmus

My spending habits have changed drastically in the last year. Of course, that's to be expected -- after all, I lost my job and went from having disposable income out of proportion to my age to having a lack of disposable income out of proportion to my age. I abruptly stopped buying things and my "social money" was carefully budgeted for an occasional dinner or birthday outing.

Those habits haven't yet changed, even though I've been allowed to relax a little. However, all along, I've managed to find money if there's a book I really want.

I've written from time to time about my ongoing love affair with the written word. While I don't really do book reviews here because, well, I just don't, there is another aspect of this love that is easy for me to convey. This booklust has led to me finding bookstores in most cities I've visited, regardless of country, state, or city. There are few things more comforting to me than wandering the stacks of a store, remembering books I've read and finding the next one that will capture me.

1. My first bookstore: Cover to Cover in the Empire Mall, Sioux Falls, SD.

It no longer occupies its corner spot in the shopping behemoth, but when I was just learning to read, Cover to Cover was where my parents took me. [Tell me, was Cover to Cover once a chain? As far as I can tell, it isn't now -- it's just the single most popular name for an independent bookstore.] When I was four or five, I made my first book purchase there with my carefully saved allowance: Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar, after almost an hour of examining picture books. And so the love affair with bookstores began.

2. The coolest chain store I've seen: Chateau Theatre Barnes & Noble, Rochester, MN.

As a rule, the B is a reliable bookstore. They're laid out similarly and the ubiquitous green signs mark every section, whether you're in the Mall of America or a crowded, narrow three-story Manhattan slot. (Or Sioux Falls, which has a surprisingly large B&N that saved my sanity during my sophomore year speech class.)

The B&N found in Rochester is just a little bit different. I first saw this gem by accident while in Rochester for one of Mia Sorella's soccer tournaments. In some of the between-game downtime, I was hanging out with another player's mom and brother and we were intending to go to a movie. When we found that the show was sold out, we wandered to the store next door, only to stumble across a B&N that looked like a big brightly-colored castle. An old vaudeville theater, it still has the old brick and much of the decor; in fact, if it wasn't for those little green signs, you could very easily forget that you are in a Barnes & Noble.

3. The neatest single-subject store I've visited: The Jane Austen Center, Bath, England.

Okay, okay. This is a mildly gratuitous inclusion. I'm a Jane Austen fan and this was one of the highlights of my trip to England. And I found something there that I've never seen elsewhere: Being Elizabeth Bennet, a choose-your-own-adventure that takes you through all six of Ms. Austen's novels. Yes. Choose-your-own-adventure. Jane Austen. Awesome.

4. The independent store where I'm most likely to find the book I'm searching for: Last Stop CD Shop, Sioux Falls, SD.

As you may have guessed from the store's name, they haven't always sold books. Last Stop started as a -- you guessed it -- music store that bought and sold used CDs and vinyl. They expanded over the years to include video games, VHS, DVDs, and books, and are now (I think) the largest place in Sioux Falls for such things.

As it happens, they're also one of the best-organized used bookstores I've ever visited. The east side store has two rather massive levels and the deals are ... well, fantastic, especially for books. As someone who refuses to ever pay cover price (it's one of those things), this has become one of my favorite places to browse.

5. The strangest used bookstore I've visited: Happy Tales, Markesan, WI.

I tripped over the description for this store about a year before I visited, and it stuck with me: "Down County Road K in Markesan, Wis., Lloyd and Leonore Dickmann -- a farmer and retired college professor -- have a used bookstore they estimate has a million books. There are no billboards to lead you there, no signs directing you down the driveway. Yet people come."

That blue castle you see in front of you is the former-silo-turned-bookstore. This is the original store; it has since stretched into multiple buildings and it is entirely possible to spend an entire day wandering. Organization here is ... well, it's mostly-done, but there's enough traffic that it can't be maintained 100% by the small group that runs the place. In my time there, I managed to find a Soviet-era Russian history book, a copy of Pride & Prejudice from the 1930s, and several "fluff" books for about a quarter each. And I couldn't leave without any of them.

6. My college sanctuary: Borders, Rapid City, SD.

Borders stores across the country have been closing thanks to the company's bankruptcy, including the one in Rapid just a few short weeks ago. In its heyday, it was my favorite spot to study and the site of many an important conversation. The going-out-of-business sale was both great (hey, a book sale!) and utterly heartbreaking. RIP, Borders.

7. My ultimate goal: Powell's City of Books, Portland, OR.

In addition to its many other draws, this three-story, city-block-sized new-and-used bookstore is one of the very things that made me consider Portland for graduate school. I've been told days can be spent inside its walls. Somehow, I believe it.

8. The best alternative to a bookstore, especially on a budget: Your Local Public Library.

Let's face it: most of us don't need huge book collections of our own. Libraries are portals into strange worlds, whether you're lucky enough to call the New York Public Library home (yes, that one) or it's a neighborhood joint attached to the high school. Even better, most libraries are networked in such a way that they can find something for you if they don't have it on their own shelves. Libraries have the added bonus of being full-service: all are welcome, and you can study, write, join a book club, or surf the internet without anyone chasing you out the doors because you haven't bought anything yet.

Some of them even serve coffee now. What a weird thought.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's this little hole-in-the-wall place I need to go visit...

Um...

2011-10-12T14:52:00.000-05:00

You don't really notice how bad a cold sounds until you have complete strangers looking at you like you have the plague. (I feel like I should be apologizing to those within ten feet of me. I swear, this is the end of the cold! I'm not contagious!)

This is still probably the most peaceful picture I've taken.

Whatever happened to the normal buckets of Legos?

The new Muppets movie (aptly titled "The Muppets") comes out this Thanksgiving, and it is distinctly possible that I am inordinately excited. Particularly since I'm 27 years old.

I suddenly want a privacy filter for my laptop. Has something to do with people sitting behind and a level above me.

There's a fine line between absurd and brilliant. Case in point: in 1955, Dr. Thomas Harvey thought it would be a good idea to steal Albert Einstein's brain during his autopsy. In and of itself, that thought is absurd. Yet decades later, that very brain provided genuine scientific insights into the physiological differences between a normal brain and that of a mathematical genius.

And for that matter, the rest of his body was cremated.

There have been numerous occasions in the last week where my response to a conversation has been, "There's an xkcd for that." I may have a problem. (Today, I really like this one.)

Yesterday I had the pleasure of lighting whiskey on fire while making a cake. If I can ever get the pictures to download, I will post about that.

Despite a fear of open heights, I have a ridiculously strong desire to ride in a hot air balloon.

I'm only half looking forward to my trip to Wausau this weekend. It's going to be short and to the point, which kind of takes all the fun out of it.

Although catching an Oktoberfest in Minneapolis will make it much more enjoyable. Hopefully.

Is that enough blogging vomit for the day? Yeah, I think so.

About This Week

2011-10-08T16:49:00.002-05:00

1. Weather-wise, the biggest difference between Rapid City and Sioux Falls -- and Wausau and Sioux Falls -- is the wind. In Rapid or Wausau, there is shelter. Trees, hills, foliage of other varieties, plenty of things to slow it down. In and around Sioux Falls, there's ... grass. The wind howls.

2. I do not like wind.

3. I especially don't like it this week, as we were in the process of building a shed ... and now we're in the process of rebuilding a shed. That was an unwelcome incident Thursday evening.

4. It also gave several wildfires across SoDak an extra edge this week.

5. Yeah. Really do not like wind.

6. In other news, I aaaalmost got a real night's sleep for the first time in a week and a half. As many bouts of insomnia as I generally have, this one has been particularly rough. Aided by a couple of bad days of allergies, I suppose. Blech.

7. But hey, it's almost a new week. A week of slightly more seasonal weather (look, 80 degrees is nice, but around here it seems just wrong to want your air conditioning in October). A week of some down-and-dirty work.

8. A week that will be ended with a quick trip to Wausau.

9. About time I get the last of my stuff out of Emma Jean's garage, I suppose. (Eesh.)

10. And I should drop in on the Admiral.

11. And grab a drink at Red Eye.

12. And ... wow. Okay, a quick but action-packed trip to Wausau. Suppose that's expected.

13. Hopefully my sleep patterns can be back on track before that...

A Proper Send-Off

2011-10-06T14:59:00.003-05:00

My brief post last night was right after I heard the news -- and now I feel the urge to do a bit more justice to a man that has altered the very fabric of our reality.

We're talking about the brain that led to Apple computers (I know there are many who don't give a rip about Apple computers, but let's face it -- for years, they were the only mainstream competition for Microsoft. Can you imagine how things might have turned out without that push?) ... And then mp3 players, cell phones, tablets, and countless other iItems.

This is the man who, at the age of 31, bought The Graphics Group from Lucasfilm. You know them better as Pixar.

The man who fought pancreatic cancer for seven years, keeping up his CEO job until it really was too much to handle.

And stayed married to the same woman for twenty years, ended only by his death.

He accomplished more in 56 years -- 56 years -- than most do in a lifetime. Whether or not you liked him, whether or not you thought much of him, his reach is undeniable.

Rest in peace, Mr. Jobs.

[Another tribute from a mind far more advanced than mine.]

---

2011-10-05T18:51:00.003-05:00

I'm not much of a computer nerd, but as a general nerd this made me sad.

The computer world lost a great one today ... Rest in peace, Mr. Jobs.

Keys & Compartmentalization

2011-10-03T21:34:00.001-05:00

Today's Yahoo! Horoscope for Taurus: The most direct route to enlightenment right now is communication. So if you're on a quest to learn more -- about your career opportunities, a new romantic possibility or how to get a healthier lifestyle -- you need to talk about it more. Spread the word that you're curious, and you will be rewarded with more information. Plus, you'll get people sharing their own experiences and offering you insider tips on how to get your own thing going faster.

I don't put much (any) stock in horoscopes, and today's was general enough to be a bit laughable. But there is a good little piece of advice there -- communication is key! And I suppose there may be improvement needed in my career opportunities and my healthy-ish lifestyle. (Not sure to what the "new romantic possibility" is referring. I'm going to ignore that part.)

In the interest of keeping things simple (clear self-communication, if you will), things this week are oddly compartmentalized. Saturday was Geek Day. Yesterday was Manly Day -- fast food, football, and some work on the shed being built in our backyard. Today was as close as I get to a Health Freak Day -- yoga, a bike ride, an obscenely healthy (and fresh) lunch, and then an afternoon spent hiking at Newton Hills State Park.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow will have to be Work Day. I have studying to do and apps to submit.

So for tonight, I'm communicating. Hi! How are you? How was your weekend?

Confessions Of An Unreformed Band Geek

2011-10-01T15:44:00.000-05:00

[Raise your hand if this has happened to you...]

Ten years ago, I was an unapologetic band geek. I wasn't particularly good (although not particularly bad, either) but I was committed. Jazz band, concert band, marching band -- I was there.

It helped that my particular class was ... well, fun. My best friend was a fellow band geek. Some of my most amusing high school friends were super-nerds like me that happened to be there as well. And by all means, there were more "One time, at band camp..." stories than I care to admit. (Not to mention band bus stories, band trip stories, and the every-popular early morning band stories.)

Of all the various areas of participation, marching band is easily the most grueling. The weeks of band camp before school started, the early mornings, the memorization, the pages of field formations -- it's a lot to take in and can take a surprisingly large toll on a person. There's more coordination required to roll step backwards while staying in a straight line and playing anything on key than someone who hasn't been through it can ever imagine. (Not to mention the fact that you're doing it for an audience and have to trust that the people behind you are watching out for you as well.)

But when it all comes together, it can be absolutely spectacular. Marching band is a team sport to beat 'em all; even a football team only has eleven on the field at once -- have you ever tried to coordinate forty or a hundred and forty high schoolers? It's a sight to behold.
Now, as it happens, today is the Festival of Bands, one of the largest local band competitions/fundraisers. Starting bright and early in the morning, there's a parade in downtown Sioux Falls (the kind of parade that takes almost three hours), followed by field shows at Howard Wood Field (another local landmark). For many of the area bands, this is their largest -- and most regularly-attended -- competition for the year.

I haven't been there in about a decade; not coincidentally, that was the last time I competed. Said high school best friend [who I just now decided to refer to as Fuddy here] decided it was time to check it out again and as soon as we knew the weather would cooperate, we were off.

Let me tell you -- you can take the geek out of the band, but you can't take the band out of the geek.

It was a blast. Perhaps we were a little rough on a few bands (sure, they're high schoolers, but we've been there and they should know better) but we had more fun judging their marching styles and formations than two adults should. It helped a bit that our alma mater is actually competitive (they've had a bit of a roller coaster ride with the last, oh, six directors or so) and doing rather well; for once, we could put them ahead of other schools in the same division for more reasons than simple favoritism.

And on top of that ... we encountered O.

For those of you who weren't in band at LHS between 1999 and 2002, O is the former director. He managed to take our band from "eh" to "hey, they could do something!" from my freshman to senior years. Sadly, he was only there those four years; the following director was good with concert band but not so great with marching, and it took a couple directors after that before they were back on track. (Seriously, six directors from 1998 till now. Turnover's a bit steep.)

This was O's first return to the Festival as well; he just changed schools himself after eight years in the Minneapolis area. And Fuddy and I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

He remembered us. How could he not? Ten years has passed, but our class was ... well, they stuck with you. What followed were a few minutes of truly unexpected reminiscing.

Made my day.

Sorry to say his current band beat out LHS, although it was fairly close. (I'd say LHS's colorguard was better, though.) All in all, it was a pretty fantastic day.

I'm fully aware of just how geeky that makes me. But you know what? I don't care.

Life is good.

Time To Consider Decaf

2011-09-29T12:50:00.000-05:00

It's an odd sort of day.

A waiting-for-the-banker-to-call-back kind of day.

A tired-of-applying-for-jobs kind of day.

A holy-cow-it's-windy-it-must-be-fall kind of day.

A must-find-coffee kind of day.

A must-be-comfortable-with-my-nerdiness-because-I-really-want-this-shirt kind of day.

You know. That kind of day.

It could be the comparative idleness. It could be that I've had too much time by myself. It could be that I apparently have speed bumps to deal with before things go smoothly.

It could just be the oddities I'm encountering. For instance, a not-necessarily-required-but-definitely-encouraged course for several of the programs I'm applying for is genetics. As it happens, the local university conglomerate (all of the state schools rolled into one building for the convenience of those in Sioux Falls) offers a class ... except it's apparently "Genertics." You know, genetics but more ... vague.

Not exactly inspiring confidence at the moment.

A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?
-Albert Einstein

Once Again

2011-09-24T23:35:00.000-05:00

And I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
...
And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, okay, guess it's better to turn this way
("Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect," The Decemberists)

Aside from late night conversations and my occasional forays into the investment world, I have had a very quiet week.

It's limbo all over again, and that's okay. I'm getting used to it. I'm even sorta kinda enjoying it, in some respects. Just gotta get moving on that next stage.

Really moving.

Here we go...

Sunday Afternoon

2011-09-18T14:53:00.001-05:00

It's a Sunday, which in this house means church, lunch, football. And given that my team is stressing me out, this also means I needed to find something else to do.

So ... I'm playing with some of my favorite pictures.

Making 'em look funky.

Or ... tall.

... Or old. (Which didn't really take much.)

Or ... dignified? Yeah, again, not really any effort needed on my part.

Same for "bright and colorful." I'd forgotten just how blue the sky was that day...

And a pointless foot photo funkified, because I like things like that.

And this one? It was just a perfect day.

(The Great Wall at the Badaling section; the Stratosphere Tower in Las Vegas; an old farmhouse south of Elm Springs, SD; Sherlock Holmes at the Baker Street tube stop in London; Church of the Savior on Spilt Blood in St. Petersburg; the Sander Lodge at Storm Mountain Center; a seasonal marsh in the Tetons)

Imposter

2011-09-16T14:17:00.002-05:00

This has not been a terribly exciting week. I'm in Sioux Falls, I'm a little limited on my funds (and available friends) and for that matter, I'm feeling oddly agoraphobic.

Blame the summer spent surrounded by people all. the. time.

In any case, I haven't quite accomplished as much as I would have liked. There's been a fair bit of reading and I've spent a fair bit of time trying to convince myself that I'm some kind of financial guru, playing with my newly-acquired IRA and trying not to lose all my money.

[By that lone standard, I'm a major success!]

For the first time in months, I find myself back at a coffeeshop just for ... fun. After a summer of haunting places for free wi-fi (casually "rented" for the price of a drink), today I headed for the B simply because I needed to get out and combat said budding agoraphobia.

It's interesting, being back in this world.

The B is a lot of things, but one of the most prevalent is its role as a yuppie hangout. Mixed in among the co-eds doing homework and the parents trying to entertain their kids for a few minutes are the well-dressed professionals having pseudo-intellectual conversations.

I shouldn't knock it. I used to be a much more productive part of that world. I used to partake in those conversations, right down to the business casual.

Now, I'm in chameleon mode. I look like a (dressed-down) yuppie and as far as anyone can tell, I read like a yuppie (my IRA lit is only interrupted by my forays into blogdom ... and the occasional article on Packers.com) but ... I'm an imposter. I'm here to break up my unemployed day, to do my job searches from a location other than the kitchen table.

Heck, I'm partially just here so I have an excuse to wear my favorite brown heels.

Yes, I'd say it's time I found a way to contribute to society again.

Anniversary Of A Day Gone Wrong

2011-09-11T14:05:00.000-05:00

She called her mom right away. "I'm okay ... Yeah, I can see it from here."

She had intended to go shopping at the Center that day, but when she got there the stores weren't yet open. On the way back to her apartment, the first plane hit.

Her first call was to her mother, a thousand miles away, to let her know she was okay. While she was still talking to her -- standing on her balcony in clear view of the towers -- the second plane hit.

This is the story as it was retold to me about my former math teacher's daughter. Her daughter lived and worked in New York, light years from her hometown, but that day ... That day everything got much closer.

I told my own story a few years ago and I really don't need to replay it today. As poignant as those memories are, today I'm finding myself thinking about the things that followed.

I had just started my senior year of high school. That school year went down in history as "the one when 9/11 happened." Nothing went quite as expected. My anatomy class -- anatomy, of all subjects -- decided to raise money for the Red Cross that very week. My current events class had a sudden topic, not a week after our teacher wondered aloud what all we would talk about this year. (After all, the year before had the Presidential race, and the year before that had Y2K.) Even from such a distance, each and every one of us found ourselves affected in some way, directly and indirectly.

It was a "big trip" year for high school band as well, and we were slated to go to -- you guessed it -- New York City. Rather miraculously (and despite the efforts of some parents), that trip still happened. And so it was that a bunch of young bumpkins from South Dakota found themselves on the much-changed streets of New York six months later.

That trip was my first time in a commercial jet, and that experience alone was unlike anything I had imagined.

Since then, we've seen two wars last longer than anyone expected. I've seen many friends go to Iraq and Afghanistan, and I've seen several of those friends struggle to adjust to life back in the States afterwards. We've seen leaders deposed (or disposed, as the case might be) ... We've seen our own stock market go into utter chaos, largely due (directly and indirectly) to the events of that day. We've seen worldwide fear of unexpected things, like unidentified white powders. And oh, have we seen drastic changes in travel.

My generation has had an interesting adjustment, particularly those of us that graduated that year. My entire childhood was before 9/11; my entire adulthood, after. Things that had never occurred to our parents to teach us are problems now. Things that weren't supposed to be scary (visit Greece? Sure!) suddenly were. And things that were never supposed to be normal became commonplace. Metal detectors at national monuments? Limits to liquids you can carry on an airplane? Profiling?

It's not always where you expect it, either. When I travel and either have to or choose to use my passport, I will almost immediately be "randomly" selected for an extra search. The stamps in my passport (combined with my bachelor's degree, which could very well be part of my "official description" ... because let's face it, technology's a little nuts) mean that eyebrows are raised at this otherwise somewhat anonymous, normal-looking woman.

Ten years later, it's hard to tell what's changed because, to be honest, it seems that everything has changed. Our new normal, whatever that means, is so different than what it could have been. And now, we have the strange task of telling kids -- our kids, our friends' kids, our nieces and nephews -- what was, what might have been, and what has happened.

And where we were that day.

I was at school at 7AM that day...

The Accidental Vegetarian And Other Tales

2011-09-07T20:57:00.001-05:00

While I was at the ranch last week -- the cattle ranch, as in a place where beef is raised -- I managed to have entirely vegetarian meals.

It wasn't intentional. In fact, I took a long hard look at the contents of my grandparents' freezer and basically determined that no matter what I pulled out of there, I wasn't going to finish it before I left. Instead, I had the contents of their garden at my disposal ... and so it was that I ate fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and potatoes at every meal instead.

Turns out there are plenty of ways to be creative with those, especially if you add noodles or eggs. (Hey, I needed protein in some form.) Enough ways, in fact, to keep a person eating for a week without getting bored.

There were interruptions, which definitely helped. After all, Shorty's 21st had to be celebrated. There was Mexican food to eat and the new staff of the Gaslight to judge. (Maybe we should give them more than two days before judging too harshly.)

And eventually, I gave up my vegetarian diet and returned to Sioux Falls.

My biggest complaint about the area (which is obvious here, because I complain about it frequently) continues to be my fellow drivers. As it happens, both of the major routes from my parents' place to the west side of town are under construction, meaning that unless I feel like going several miles out of the way, I have to deal with Sioux Falls drivers trying to figure out flashy orange cones.

The several miles out of the way seems more worthwhile each time I take the construction.

I don't actually mind construction all that much. One of these routes was in desperate need of resurfacing and they're managing to keep traffic moving through there. (I'm not sure if there's a whole lot of need for the other project, but no matter.) But oh, do I get tired of people not paying attention.

Really. I know South Dakota doesn't have a text messaging law, but could you please put your phone down when you're going through a construction zone? You're not fooling anyone. We all know what you're doing. If the awkwardly-staring-down-while-moving-slowly thing didn't give you away, the fact that you're swerving all over your lane would.

Back at home, I'm finding myself missing the night sky. Sure, we can see some of it here, but the light pollution limits me to only three of the seven stars in the Little Dipper. Only a matter of time before one or two of the remaining ones are no longer visible.

Bit of a change from the wide open spaces out west.

And that's my week. Some miles traveled, some events have passed, but for the most part ... Well, not quite "just another week." For this year, it's pretty much par for the course, though.

Reminder!

2011-09-05T21:27:00.001-05:00

Note to self (and the world)

If you have any desire to harbor any hope for humanity, for crying out loud, stop reading comment threads on news articles!

Especially -- ESPECIALLY -- if it's about something or someone you respect/enjoy and would like to continue to respect/enjoy.

People. Are. Ridiculous.

Naturally.

2011-09-04T17:13:00.000-05:00

After a weekend of sleeping, ice blocking, and wine tasting, I find myself once again in limbo.

Seriously. What's up with that?

I know, I know. Strictly speaking, any current limbo is entirely my own fault. A few days ago, I was even welcoming it. Enjoying it.

But enough is enough. Time for something new.

---

2011-09-02T14:09:00.002-05:00

While this place can feel pretty dang removed, I have to admit it's not overly so.

I mean, I have good Internet access. Satellite television. The ability to make long distance phone calls, whether or not I choose to. I can chat with Mia Sorella and watch streaming videos (... or Packers games, whatever) without difficulty. And occasionally, a family friend appears to check on things and finds me making lunch.

Okay, so that last one only happened once, and said family friend may or may not have scared the bejeezus out of me. She probably didn't realize that I hadn't had any "real" contact with another human in, oh, about 40 hours, either. May have explained a lot if she had. (Thankfully, I wasn't mid-conversation with myself at the time. That would have been embarrassing.)

While the nearest good-sized town is an hour away (because I refuse to count Wall in that category), it's perfectly within reach -- a fact I intend to abuse later today.

Which is good. I should probably be around people again soon-ish, even if it's not for very long. And I should probably replace some of the groceries I've consumed.

Just one of those things.

Thursday Evening Post

2011-09-01T20:16:00.000-05:00

There's a noisy but not overly large and threatening cloud headed this way -- but I can still see the sunset.

Sometimes South Dakota is particularly cool. Like when it rains and the sun shines at the same time.

Aside from that, there is blessedly little news. I'm watching the Packers game online (because apparently non-WI residents get hosed during some preseason games) and I continue to be alarmed by my interest in the game. Why, I still remember a time when I publicly shunned all things football (while I quietly kept an eye on the Pack) ...

On the other hand, it's a lot of fun to be a Packers fan, and even more fun to give my dad a hard time when my team's doing better than his.

And that, my friends, is my life right now. The job search continues, there are a few more random chores for me to take care of before I head to Sioux Falls, and whatever it was Mr. Rogers said yesterday is apparently something I'm not allowed to blog. (Would be a pity if I could remember what it was...)

Does it sound exciting? No, not terribly. Does that bother me?

No, not terribly.

With that, I'd better get back to that game. And maybe keep an eye on the rumbly storm headed this way...

Ending August

2011-08-31T14:00:00.000-05:00

1. My grandparents are now great-grandparents; cousin Kaci had a baby boy early Monday morning. Yay! Congratulations, Kaci and Jerrid!

2. Shorty is now officially of age ... which means that this weekend we can hit a winery or two. Because that is what our gene pool dictates.

3. I'm really tired of looking for a job. But as I don't have one yet, I guess I'll keep it up.

4. The final Packers preseason game is tomorrow night. Will I watch it? ... Absolutely.

5. It still boggles my mind that football has become a "thing" in my life. Egads.

6. On the other hand, the other autumnal things I'm looking forward to include new seasons of "Community" and "Dancing With The Stars" ... and the latter only because Maks is back.

7. Really, that's no more comforting than the football. Egads again.

8. Ooh, and "Doctor Who," which isn't "new" so much as "finally available to me again."

9. Wow, I'm a nerd.

10. In the meantime, I'm going to stay here, raid the garden for fresh veggies, and enjoy having someone else's house to myself for another day or two. Unless, of course, they return early ... which they might, given the new great-grandson.

11. I should finish my laundry, just in case.

12. Exciting life I lead, hm?

Splendid Isolation

2011-08-30T09:19:00.000-05:00

My first day away and what do I do? Get up at 6:30 anyway. Hey, it was still sleeping in.

I'm sure that says something about me. Hopefully it's something like "go-getter" as opposed to "crazy."

After spending most of the afternoon thinking about how long it was until I could leave, it was oddly hard to drive away from Storm. Odd because I'll be back this weekend ... but I'm done being employed there. And the place is very, very different than when I turned up in May. I mean, every time I go back it's a little different -- but this time it's very different than when I arrived. It's odd.

Now, I sit in a rather isolated (really, the fog is amazing this morning), rather quiet house by myself. After three months of nonstop people, this is absolutely fantastic. Desperately needed. And hey, it works out well for everybody -- my grandparents get a much-needed vacation and I get away for a couple days. Even better, about the time the solitude starts to get to me, I'll be heading back into the Hills for a fun day with Shorty.

You see, he turns 21 today. For whatever reason, one of the things he wants to do in honor of this occasion is ... go to a winery with his sister. I'm not one to argue, even if he's really not allowed to get this old. Alas, as he is a college student with the attending responsibilities, the winery must wait till Saturday or so.

I know. Rough life, eh?

Sharing The Love Some More

2011-08-29T21:57:00.001-05:00

Folks popping over from my Facebook page have seen this already, but for everybody else ... I love these guys. Both sets, the live ones and the puppets. Yay.

As The Mayhem Dies Out...

2011-08-28T14:40:00.000-05:00

... and my gypsy year continues, I find myself at something of a crossroads. From here, I'm headed to the ranch to housesit for a bit (a week? maybe?) and then probably back to Sioux Falls for an undetermined period of time. In the meantime, I have applications to finish and just enough money to get by for a bit ... while I find a job of some kind and make myself useful somehow.

Okay. Less of a crossroads, more of a snow-lined path in the fog.

For the moment, I can enjoy the end of my time at Storm. I have a couple hours left of my break (gotta love a split shift) and my Pepsi here at the Gaslight. Tonight, I have a cabin to myself in the middle of a semi-occupied camp. It's been a truly interesting run and I'm almost sorry to leave ... except that what happens next has the potential to be fabulous.

Somehow, that makes it much easier.

There

2011-08-24T20:44:00.000-05:00

In every place I've lived, I've had a "spot." The one where I always go to relax, the one that helps ease my nerves. Often my bedroom (particularly when I was sharing a house with five other women), sometimes a lesser-traveled living room or something similar.

For the last fifteen years, there's been one room at Storm that has been "that spot" for me. It's the room people forget about -- on the bottom floor of the main lodge, tucked back from the game room, and rather inexplicably referred to as the fireplace room. (There's a fireplace in almost every meeting room in this camp. I have no idea why this one gets a special designation but it's been that way through at least three directors.) The furniture doesn't match, the TV is old and enormous, it's smelled the same way for basically ever, and it is easily the most comfortable spot in this building.

I have a crazy history with this room -- the first time I went to camp, we slept here on the last night because, well, there was no room at the inn. A couple years later, I had my first kiss here. (Awkward, considering the blinds have only been up for the last few years.) When I went to Mines, I'd drive out to Storm to escape and almost inevitably find myself in here to study, drink some cocoa, and light a fire in the fireplace.

Now that it has new carpet (the old stuff had been here at least as long as I've known of the room's existence) and the room's been put back together, I'm finding myself in here once again. In a couple of days there will be a group using it for meeting space, but for now ... it's all mine.

Life is good.

SWG2L: Baby Showers

2011-08-22T22:24:00.000-05:00

In between my job searches, You-Tube-stolen-time (I blame the Old Spice Guy vs. Fabio thing, and I can't believe I just admitted that one publicly), and that working thing I do occasionally, I've been thinking about baby gifts for a couple of expecting friends.

Back in 2004 when I started going to weddings, I kind of forgot that little jingle we sang in elementary school. You know -- "First comes love, then comes marriage..." Since then, something like three-quarters of the couples whose weddings I've attended have started having kids. Not surprising, given that the madness started seven years ago and most people don't actually wait that long to start a family.

In the last year, there's been a veritable baby boom. I don't know if people are just hitting "that age" or if they're suddenly feeling more secure in their jobs (hey, there weren't as many babies in '08 and '09, and I know some of those were just people feeling skittish about money), but it's a little unsettling.

Here's the thing.

I love kids. I wouldn't mind having a couple of my own some day. But while I've finally gotten better at the wedding thing, I am not good with baby showers.

I don't know what it is. The high-estrogen thing, or the simple fact that it's weird to think that I'm old enough -- and by extension, that all of these friends that I've done dumb stuff with over the years are old enough -- to have kids. I'm bad at them.

However, I've learned a few things. I figured I could share some of that.

First of all, attending isn't hard. You get a gift, you bring it along, you maybe play a couple of games, and you eat. You don't need a date or any particular game plan (unless you're throwing the shower, in which case bless you) and -- here's the fun one -- the awkward questions that come up at all those other social occasions aren't nearly as plentiful at a baby shower.

It's almost eerie, but it's true. There are two big reasons: odds are good you're among people who already know your answers, and everybody's far more interested in giving advice to the mom-to-be. Simple as that. Yes, you might hear stories you're not mentally prepared for (i.e. anything about childbirth, lactating, and so forth) but there won't be much going on to put you on the spot.

Know your venue. You might be at someone's house, at a restaurant, having tea -- anything could happen. It could be incredibly casual or downright fancy. It'll depend entirely on who's throwing it and where it's going down. Brace yourself.

Check out the registries. Like buying wedding gifts, there's usually a balance to hit. Lots of moms register at places like Target and if you're coming up completely blank, they're fantastic. If nothing else, it makes it easy to go in on a gift with someone else. ("Oh, she's got a stroller already, but she still wants a crib...") If you don't want to stick strictly with the registry, there are ways to get creative -- if you're a knitter, crocheter, or sewer, she really can't have too many blankets and so forth. If all else fails, have some fun with basic necessities, like diapers and teething rings. Remember, this is a baby -- she'll be going through everything at a breakneck pace. There's such a thing as too many bowls at a wedding shower, but there are rarely too many diapers at a baby shower.

As with a wedding, when you're enthusiasm starts to wane, find a stopping point and leave. The truth is that unless you have kids of your own or this is your sister (or similarly close friend), you're probably going to get tired of the momminess. No need to suck the fun out of it for the people around you if your attitude starts to suck.

And that's what I've figured out so far. If you've got any particular advice to share, I'd love to hear it -- I could use all the help I can get.

Good luck, ladies.

My Summer In Numbers

2011-08-20T13:07:00.000-05:00

14 weeks at the camp.

20 pounds lighter than in May. (Woot!)

About $150 that my little green card allowed me to not spend.

8 payments made, half to my car and half to my student loans.

3 Wisconsin friends I got to show around the Hills.

2 Wisconsin friends that randomly appeared on a different day. (That was crazy.)

3500 miles on my car.

30-some miles on my boat.

8 found geocaches. (Hm. I may have been slacking off on that one.)

21st birthday yet to celebrate for my "little" brother.

8 9 half-priced bagels consumed.

Around 150 meals prepared for 10 to 160 people.

7 out-of-town family members visited.

4.5 concerts attended.

1 regret. (I really should have given that cowboy my phone number...)

Now, to get on with the rest of the summer!

The Odd Summer

2011-08-16T17:08:00.000-05:00

Last night another in a long line of storms blew through. And me? I was sitting in the kitchen of a very, very quiet camp, watching a movie and toasting granola for breakfast this week.

It was about ten-thirty as I was walking back to my cabin that the storm took out the camp's power and I was abruptly plunged into darkness unlike any I had seen all summer. Not a house light, not a floodlight, not even the light from the cross up on the rocks. Heck, even the lightning only managed to light up the clouds. I may have been lucky to not wander off the bridge and into the creek, because let's face it, that would have been a very "me" thing to do.

The staff cabin is otherwise empty now Things have come full circle -- I was the first summer staffer here and I'll be the last to leave. Of course, it was during that first week here alone that the maintenance man went a little nuts and got himself fired. Hopefully these last couple of weeks are a bit less ... eventful.

The full truth is that the entire summer has been ridiculously intense and it's a relief to have some space again. For a couple of weeks, I have a quiet building and my own bathroom. No sharing, no tiptoeing, no worrying about who I'll wake up when my alarm clock goes off at 5AM. It's kind of fantastic.

I told the Bossman that I probably wouldn't be around much on my days off and so far that's been accurate. Yesterday I did adult things -- helped Shorty move back to his dorm, got the oil changed in my car (finally), bought shampoo. In a fit of wanting to spend money, I also stopped by our local Borders ... which, like so many other Borders stores, is going out of business.

It was almost surreal. The massive yellow sale signs are everywhere in this store that kept me sane all through college. Aside from those, it looks eerily similar to its former self -- the same shelves, the same arrangement (for now) ... No cafe, no lingerers, just manic shoppers and huge sales. It was a bit Twilight-Zone-y.

That seems to be a theme this summer. From the day the maintenance man left, things have been sideways. There was Fifi's wheeler crash in June and the guest services woman resigning. Even the little things have seemed particularly odd -- one day I'm finding a bandage for the freezer repairman who seemed to think it was a good idea to stick his hand in a fan, and the next I'm buying a cheese Danish from a vending machine at a horse sanctuary. (Let's face it -- there are few widely accepted things stranger in American culture than preserved pastries for $1 from a machine.) There have been stops at Sonic to eat our Taco Bell, trips to the lake with kayaks and a homemade sailboat, an abnormally large amount of time spent watching "Doctor Who," and the tossing of parachuted plastic Army men from a third story balcony. Now I'm spending my time having tea and a scone while looking for jobs online and talking to you folks.

Considering that a year ago I was still being an engineer and doing engineer-y things, nothing about this summer feels quite normal.

Of course, I'm not alone. It's been fairly sideways for everyone else at camp as well. Heck, in the rest of the world. The British were just rioting. The British. If that doesn't signal that we've gone collectively off the deep end, what else could?

---

2011-08-15T14:52:00.000-05:00

It has been an exhausting summer.

I'm the only summer staffer left.

I have a lot of work to do before I go...

Always On My Mind

2011-08-14T16:50:00.000-05:00

Hmmmmmmm.

---

2011-08-12T20:47:00.000-05:00

The summer is winding down.

Heck, the weather's even more reasonable.

Oh, and the Perseids are hitting their peak, although a full moon may mess with you. (Recommended: early mornings.)

People are leaving the camp. Staffers, that is. It's weird.

And quiet.

...

I don't quite know what to do with myself. It's an unexpected problem.

The Sanctuary

2011-08-11T10:59:00.000-05:00

One of the coolest perks to working in the Hills for the summer is the VIP card. These magic little things get us into all sorts of tourist attractions for reduced prices (frequently 100% off) with the hope that we'll try a bunch of 'em out and then spread the word when people are looking for things to do.

Every year toward the end of the summer, the Stormers have a day-long outing where we make full use of this card. As it happens, yesterday was that outing.

(Ahem. Sorry guys. Here, let me even the score a bit.)

(Yikes.)

There were some of the usual stops involved -- Evans Plunge in Hot Springs, the Black Hills Playhouse in Custer State Park -- and they did not disappoint. But the new thing we did this year that was entirely new to me was the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary.

The sanctuary consists of about 13,000 acres and houses around 550 horses -- roughly 100 domesticated, the remaining being American and Spanish Mustangs. Tours take you across a small piece of those grounds (keeping in mind that 20 square miles is a lot to cover in a two-hour tour) where you encounter a few bands of these mustangs.

There are other interesting things to see, including a sundance site and the petroglyph cliffs ...

The cliffs have glyphs of varying age -- on the bottom, ancient Native American carvings. Above those, the carvings made by settlers passing through. (Over the top of some, graffiti from the last fifty years because people are dumb.)

Oh, and that was our guide, Walter. He's fairly young, not a native South Dakotan, but lives there full time and managed to answer every last question we threw at him. Including the somewhat embarrassing ones one of our leaders asked, like whether or not he danced.

Poor guy.

What may have been the coolest part of all, however, was when we happened upon a band of Spanish mustangs ... and they apparently wanted some attention. Even caught Walter a bit off guard.

Words cannot describe just how cool that was.

(This one's for my mother.)

(I played with that one a bit just because it was such a fun photo. And at this point I'm assuming Walter's used to ending up in tourists' pictures.)

When I managed to put my camera down for a couple minutes, a horse walked right up to me and nudged at my hand until I rubbed her nose. May have been my favorite moment of the day.

News.

2011-08-08T20:19:00.000-05:00

This is what's been going on in Rapid City.

It's not been a good week for the community.

Everyone involved was fairly young, too. Almost entirely twenty-somethings.

I can't even go near some of the nasty things that have flown in certain groups since then. Ugly, ugly stuff.

Rest in peace, Ryan and Nick...

Just A Picture.

2011-08-06T20:23:00.000-05:00

Two Years Later

2011-08-05T20:14:00.000-05:00

I wasn't originally going to post it ... I was writing it for my own benefit. But as sometimes happens, I had the sudden urge to share. So here we go.

Dear Jon,

I got an alert on Facebook yesterday that it was your birthday and it nearly made me cry.

It's been two years since I got that message from your brother, two years since I met the girls in Sauk Rapids for your wake, two years since we sat with your parents and told every funny Jon story we could remember.

Two years this Sunday since then...

We didn't stay in proper touch after you left Tech ... and that still hurts. Two years ago was the first time I hadn't called you on your birthday and I still have to tell myself it wouldn't have saved you. A part of me still wonders -- maybe if I had called, or if I had sent you one more email while you were deployed, or at least said hi on Facebook one more time.

Another part of me knows that once you had made up your mind, it didn't matter what anyone else said. That's almost sadder, somehow.

Remember our walks? Remember hiking up to the hill behind campus to sit on the railroad tie and solve the world's problems? Or those trips to Toys 'R' Us the five of us took just to play? Remember talking me into buying a three and a half foot stuffed alligator? I still have him. Or playing touch football in the Walmart aisles at midnight?

Then there was that time after you left during your first deployment. You called me from the middle of the desert and I felt ridiculously special. I wasn't your girlfriend or a family member or anything ... but somehow I was important enough that I got a phone call from a place you weren't allowed to specify. I even stepped out of lab for it, which you know I wouldn't do for just anyone.

To be honest I still get really angry with you at times. Ironically, of all people I think you'd understand that, so I don't try to pretend. I still think you were a jerk to leave the way you did ... but deep down, some part of me almost gets it.

Almost.

Sort of.

I still miss you, too. You'd best be keeping an eye on those kids of yours from wherever it is you can see them. They've got a lot of great people around them but their dad should be looking out for them.

I suppose I don't have much more to say right at the moment. Life is okay. Things are going well enough. And we're still telling our stories when we get the chance, although I suppose technically you wouldn't understand our Mountain Dew references the same way...

Maybe I'll get the chance to explain some day.

Love,
Ashley

A Few Things About You

2011-08-03T15:59:00.000-05:00

Last year, Blogger launched a statcounter of their own that came standard with a blog. It was great for a few reasons -- first, for regular bloggers, it meant that we could keep track of a few things without effort. Secondly, it meant that those of us who were frustrated with third-party statcounters could give them up entirely. Third ... it was free.

I like free.

Anyway, it's been an interesting source of information for me, not least of all because it's proving to me daily that yes, people read this thing. I thought perhaps I could share some of that information with you.

First, there's the spread by country (although only the top ten are shown):

Clearly, most of my readers are in the US. Not exactly surprising. Next up is South Korea, which is also not surprising given that Mia Sorella lives there. Russia follows ... likely because I still have a few friends there. Daz was in Italy for a time and as this is an "all-time" stat, I suppose those hits are from him. The rest of them? Well, a former coworker spends some time in Saudi here and there, but other than that, I'm a little confused.

Next, there are the browsers.

All this really tells me is that I have more nerd friends than I realized. The fact that Opera and Safari even register as real colors cracks me up.

The source websites are almost more fun. Clearly linking to Facebook was worth the traffic.

But the funniest stat? The search terms that have led to this blog.

Really, guys?

Einstein Kick

2011-08-02T22:21:00.000-05:00

Dear Habicht, Such a solemn air of silence has descended between us that I almost feel as if I am committing a sacrilege when I break it now with some inconsequential babble... What are you up to, you frozen whale, you smoked, dried, canned piece of soul...?

It's been a rough couple of days -- not just for me, either.

If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.

The kind of week that sends me careening off into other places looking for words of wisdom.

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction.

This time, amongst many other sources (I've been reading an awful lot), that's included Albert Einstein ... who happens to be one of my heroes.

Computers are incredibly fast, accurate, and stupid. Human beings are incredibly slow, inaccurate and brilliant. Together they are powerful beyond imagination.

I mean, if I'm going to have a hero, it should be one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century -- right?

Mass and energy are both but different manifestations of the same thing -- a somewhat unfamiliar conception for the average mind.

Even if reading his paper on relativity makes my head spin.

Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible concatenations, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion. To that extent I am, in point of fact, religious.

Even if only a few of the [brilliant] things he said are directly applicable to current problems.

[I do not] carry such information in my mind since it is readily available in books. ...The value of a college education is not the learning of many facts but the training of the mind to think.

... Although some are almost alarming relevant.

If A is success in life, then A = x + y + z. Work is x, play is y and z is keeping your mouth shut.

And others just hilariously accurate. (I should work on that last one.)

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.

Yep. Brilliant man.

Falling in love is not at all the most stupid thing that people do — but gravitation cannot be held responsible for it.

Genius.

God does not care about our mathematical difficulties. He integrates empirically.

Not Quite Fiction

2011-08-01T16:43:00.000-05:00

It was her first chance at escape and it was long due. The week before, she had been overwhelmed by 150 women and girls; the weekend brought what was easily the most frustrating family reunion to visit the camp yet. After a week where she essentially worked one full extra day, it was time to get out.

Her original plans for a long hike weren't sounding sufficiently restful anymore. Knowing what was ahead that week, her plans changed -- and so it was that she found herself back on a familiar lake, drifting slowly as she read about Australia and daydreamed.

For a Monday morning, there were a surprisingly large number of people out and about. Aside from a handful of tourists -- families on vacation, some friendly but lost bikers from Illinois -- the lake was buzzing with locals and their boats. People seemed insistent on enjoying their last few weeks of guaranteed warm weather, which was somehow understandable.

A need for air conditioning and food eventually propelled her from the lake. Sweaty, sunburned, and more than a little preoccupied, she stopped for a quick snack at a bakery before heading downtown to sit for quite a bit longer. Here, she was one of many again, this time feeling much more anonymous as she settled in to get some work done.

She was there to renew her job search, but her mind wandered to the weather, to the friends who had recently announced that they were expecting, to her sister's current travels and her intended trip to visit said sister. Anything but the task at hand, really -- it was unfortunate but not surprising. She was tired of the search and she had barely re-started.

With only a month left in her current spot, though, it was probably time to get to it.

Technology!

2011-07-31T21:51:00.000-05:00

Last month, I posted about our troubles with tourists and their directions to a certain monument. The problem seemed to be solved, although a few people have turned up since then ... I think iPhones were (are?) still struggling.

In any case, that made me curious. This evening, I decided to fire up Google Earth again and see how it did -- and I found myself much more impressed by other things.

If you play with it, you can find some awesome perspectives of Mount Rushmore. Like this one.

And this one ... right up their noses.

When I went looking for Harney Peak, I was disappointed. No view of the stone building on top, unfortunately. Just a weird CGI mountain.

Why am I nitpicking? It's still pretty dang cool...

This Week's Challenge

2011-07-30T13:57:00.000-05:00

It is almost surprisingly difficult to get a picture of a roasting marshmallow.

Yes -- that's what that is.

It's almost more difficult when there's someone else trying to get the same picture.

(That's Fifi over there, looking goofy. Not to say I didn't ... but I was on the other side of these photos. Thankfully.)

Probably a good thing Shorty was patient and willing to keep burning marshmallows.

And eventually build a fire in a different spot.

I tell you. Sometimes they put us through the most grueling chores out here.

It's a rough life.

Mayhemic

2011-07-29T14:49:00.000-05:00

The sausage was frozen, the milk was warm, and the coffee was decaf.

If that sounds like a terrible greeting, you're right. It was all fairly easily remedied -- sausage in the convection oven for a boost, milk into the walk-in to cool it down completely, coffee swapped out (because apparently someone didn't realize they were grabbing decaf the last time the coffee maker ran out) but it made for an interesting morning.

Then our guests -- 150 women and adolescent girls -- boarded their buses and took off. We got a breath of fresh air before a bread shortage launched us into motion again. After all, there are another hundred guests rumored for this evening and they, too, have to eat.

No rest for the wicked.

Observations And ... Stuff.

2011-07-28T14:06:00.000-05:00

1. It's been an interesting week -- we have 150 Catholic women and girls at the camp right now, which is right at capacity for us. Tonight's their banquet ... It's a lot of fun and a lot of work, so my break is abbreviated this afternoon.

2. The summer is winding down as well. Only one more mayhemic week left, followed by a pretty quiet week before the summer staffers head off in different directions. I'm still not sure where I'm going after that.

3. I still love the last Harry Potter movie.

4. I believe it is safe to assume that, if you're repeatedly having issues with the majority of the people around you (regardless of where you are), odds are good they're not the problem.

5. I also believe that this was too much hail in such a short time.

6. South Dakota's weather is a little hinky sometimes.

7. So is Seoul's.

8. I haven't been kayaking enough in the last couple of weeks. Good thing I have time next week.

9. I get to house-sit for my boss next week and she's already told me I'm not allowed to throw any wild parties. I asked her if I could throw any run-of-the-mill, average parties and she was surprisingly okay with that. Now I just have to figure out my course of action...

10. The Sturgis Motorcyle Rally starts in just over a week!

11. I need to get more sleep. Apparently I'm not 22 anymore.

12. Time to get back to work.

The Finale

2011-07-26T14:17:00.000-05:00

It's been a long time coming ... but the final Harry Potter movie has been released.

Yes, I know I'm a couple weeks late on that one, but as I've finally made it to the theater to see it, now's my chance to talk about my Hogwarts view.

Let me summarize: I love this series, both the books and the movies. If you don't want to read any further, you now know the general idea of it. Also, there will be spoilers. While just about everybody knows and understands most of them, I might let details slip that could be ... well, spoilers.

It took awhile before I was willing to join the Harry Potter Club. It was a kid thing, and I -- at the ripe old age of 13 (just two years older than the characters, actually) -- didn't feel like joining in with the kid thing.

In fact, I resisted until after the first movie came out on video something like five years later. It was the summer of 2002 when we watched it at the day care ... and I was almost instantly hooked.

It was short business to get caught up on the books. At the time the first four had been released, and I found myself completely engrossed. Although I had seen the movie first, the world came alive to me in an unexpectedly brilliant manner. I had the movie's foundations on which to build the rest of the Harry Potter world and I loved it.

The books reflected things I had been through on my own. These characters were not much younger than me, going through the same adolescent issues I had survived, from bullying to the arguments between friends to dealing with crazy teachers -- albeit with the added bonus of causing wand-initiated explosions here and there. More than stories of a magical world, they were stories about three kids growing up ... with the kinds of hardships that face most of us.

In the meantime, they were causing enough controversy on their own. People had been lambasting them as Satanic for some time, inappropriate for kids, or altogether ridiculous. I saw little of that -- they were perhaps a bit dark at times, but as the characters aged, so did the storylines. I gave little thought to the Satanic claims. Yes, they were about magic, but a large portion of fantasy books are on some level or another. I simply chalked it up to people finding problems with something they didn't want to enjoy, as people often do. (Not surprisingly, that fervor has died down considerably over the years.)

The books continued and I found myself most amazed with the things that were included. Details were recalled in the sixth and seventh books that hadn't been mentioned since the first or second novel. J.K. Rowling had planned the story so carefully that by the end, the novels were so intertwined they no longer seemed like seven separate books.

As the movies were released, I was equally enthralled. They are admittedly not flawless. As adaptations go, they have a lot of the same problems most have -- details and characters were left out or combined for the sake of the already-long movies. (I still half-wish Peeves had been included.) The first two moved a little slowly (not surprising, given that they were directed by Chris Columbus, who did "Home Alone" and approached them in such a way as to make them palatable to 11-year-olds) and the third one was so drastically different from the first that it put a lot of people off.

Overall, however, they keep the spirit of the books and give them incredible color. More importantly, when treated like a separate entity, they are fantastic. They're surprisingly consistent throughout, from the stories from movie to movie to the actors. (I find it particularly awesome that the actors are the same not just for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but for every professor, relative, and main character as well. Malfoy's cohorts shift for a couple of movies, but that's not a major detail ... and the change in Dumbledore was unfortunately unavoidable.)

The final movie marks the end of a rather fantastic era. Thirteen years of Harry Potter -- almost half of my life and for that matter, most of Shorty's childhood.

This final movie provided more closure than I expected. Almost everything, from Snape's death to the scene in King's Cross to Narcissa's final turn from old Voldy, lived up to my expectations. There were precious few things I wished we had been shown (maybe Fred's last scene, if only so we could see Percy at his best) and some things I was happy to be spared (like the Sorting Hat -- and Neville -- on fire).

And there were some things that were even better than I expected, like when the Slytherin crowd was dismissed, Molly Weasley's final victory over Bellatrix, or when Hogwarts' defenses first fell. I was equally impressed by the fact that I felt true sympathy for the Malfoys, despite their eeeevilness before.

I was even near tears several times -- and let me tell you, folks, I do not cry during movies.

While I'm sad they've ended, I'm excited they've been given a proper send-off. I'm even more excited that I can turn around and read -- or watch -- them over and over again.

Which I think I might just do right now...

And Then There Were Four

2011-07-25T14:08:00.000-05:00

In 2004, I worked with ten fantastic summer folks out at Storm. At the time, we were all young and mostly unattached. This past weekend, I attended the wedding of one of those coworkers.

This time it was Emilie, the youngest of the 2004 crowd. It was a beautiful wedding -- fairly simple (as in "not extravagant") and not overly large, although longer than most Protestant weddings I've had the privilege of attending. They included a foot-washing ceremony in lieu of a unity candle, which was something I'd never seen before. Emilie was gorgeous, as always, and the wedding party was hilarious. What I found particularly cool was that they only had siblings standing up for them -- her three sisters and his three brothers.

It got me to thinking, though.

The group's single population has been slowly thinning. I think [although not with much certainty] April was first, followed closely by Kellie. Dyan came next. Somewhere in there, Sarah left to become a nun. Then Missy and Aaron both got married the same weekend last year, one here and one on the East Coast.

Which makes Emilie number seven, with four of us remaining.

Of those four, only one shows any sign that she might consider it in the next two years. Two of us are figuring out where we'll even be living in a year, much less with whom; one I haven't stayed in touch with very well but other sources tell me he's no closer, either. And -- here's the fun part -- as far as age ranking, we're numbers 2 through 4 and ... 7 or 8.

There's probably some sort of significance to that. I have no idea what it is.

Anyway! I should stop contemplating the statistics and just say congratulations to Emilie and Nick. May you have more happy years than trying years, and may you go forth and multiply. :)

Update/Summary/Whatever

2011-07-20T15:55:00.001-05:00

The bone-melting heat has ceased for a couple days. Good news for me, since I got to grill 100 burgers today for lunch -- and 105-degree weather is not conducive to grilling. (85 degrees is surprisingly bearable.)

Aside from that, today I also got to experience the panic of a misplaced wallet. Turns out I managed to leave it behind when I went in search of air conditioning and wi-fi on Monday. Lucky for me, the folks working here hid it away ... and recognized me as soon as I walked in.

Embarrassing? Maybe. A tremendous relief? Absolutely.

In other news, there's a fire burning on the Wyoming-SoDak border that's causing haze and orange sunsets in this area and threatening the Hills. It's up over 5000 acres now with a windy day forecasted ... which is less than encouraging at the moment.

And finally, I'm prepping for a wedding back east this weekend. Number 2 (of 4) for the year, number ... 30-something overall. Once again for someone younger than me. I keep hoping they're winding down and I keep being wrong about that...

Oh, and if you lack regular television like me, you should check out this post by Megan. It's fun, I promise.

And that's what's going on in Ashleyland these days. Back to work with me...

Strange Things

2011-07-20T14:37:00.000-05:00

(Written last night as I sat in our incredibly warm living room.)

The coolest and weirdest parts about working at the camp all come from our guests. People of all walks pass through here, whether it's a church group, secular camp, or family reunion.

And all of those can lead to some truly surreal moments.

My first was during a Farmer's Union leadership camp. I had the split shift that day and took a nap during my break; when I woke up and returned to work, I walked back to the sounds of "Californication" blasting down the valley, kids lounging on the grass.

The following weekend, there was a Mennonite family reunion. In addition to their worship services (which involved some of the most amazing singing), there were several folks with unexpectedly heavy Cajun accents.

The next time, I had the late shift. This time, I was serenaded by the sounds of fifty kids playing plastic (PVC, actually) flutes as I walked to the kitchen.

Not long after, there was a Catholic group here that played ultimate chicken -- a variation on ultimate Frisbee that uses a rubber chicken. Which means there were nuns -- in full habits -- throwing a rubber chicken around.

There was a large Hispanic family reunion after that and it led to all sorts of moments. Just to get started, there were the times they were singing in both English and Spanish, and the meals they made involving cow tongue and goat. (The latter led to some odors that I found less amusing.)

This evening, I walked back to the cabin quietly so as to not disturb the scattered priests as they prepared for confession.

In the midst of everything else -- the work, the arguments, the drama, the incidents and stories -- it's almost a relief to be amused by guests. Funny how that works...

Heat Index

2011-07-19T09:18:00.019-05:00

I feel fine,
With the sun in my eyes,
The wind in my hair.
We're falling outta this sky.
I'm doing better than I thought I would.
But nothing's ever as good as when you're on top
(The Wallflowers, "When You're On Top")

It's hot outside. As in, "It's a relief when the temperature drops below 95" hot. As in, "Boy, I'm glad I live in the dry part of the state so that it doesn't feel like it's actually over 110" hot. They're two-shower days -- once in the morning to feel human again, then again after work to lose the layer of sweat that's accumulated.

This week is becoming a quest for air conditioning. Yesterday afternoon, I headed for the neighborhood establishment for the simple joy of being in a under-90-degree-room for a little while for the first time in three days. A car ride brings relief for a few minutes; a coffee shop is a pure blessing.

Heck, sometimes I just step into our walk-in freezer to get a couple minutes' relief.

The heat is on at camp as well. We're headed into our last four weeks of summer activity and The Bossman is looking for two new full-timers by September 1st ... and a new lodge is aaaalmost done with only a month before dedication.

If that's not pressure, I'm not sure what is.

Aside from that, I'm trying to figure out what step 34 (or whatever I'm up to now) is. Come the end of August, the gypsy year really gets started and I need direction. I'm trying not to buckle under the pressure, but this weather isn't helping. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I can't seem to stop sweating.

Oh well. Like they say, if you can't stand the heat...

Practically Perfect In Every Way

2011-07-18T14:34:00.000-05:00

The summer staffers at Storm get two days off each week. They're always random (unless specifically requested) -- so the two days change each week -- and if you don't get the heck out of camp, you run the risk of getting drafted for this task or this chore. With that in mind, it's usually easy to tell who has the day off because they are not to be found.
I am no exception.

My first day off last week, Shorty and I hit the lake for the afternoon. My second day off was right after (two in a row!) and went like this.

(7:15 AM)
I'm awake and surprised. Last night was a late one, but apparently the boating adventure wore me out because I slept like a rock. All the same, I'm happy to not oversleep -- seems like a good day to get an early start.

(8:30 AM)
Dressed in summer-type layers, I aim for Rapid City. Maybe I'm overthinking things, but gym clothes didn't seem appropriate for my breakfast stop -- Black Hills Bagels, one of my new favorite places in town. A hilarious sign, fresh bagels, Dark Canyon coffee, free wi-fi ... and with that magic green card I have for the summer, I pay half-price. Gotta love it. Plus they don't think twice about a girl in a skirt with a kayak on her car and a laptop in hand.

(8:50 AM)
The joint's doing a brisk business this morning and the crowd is indicative of the weekend ahead. There's a group of men that stopped by for coffee on their way to the lake, a family of four decked out for a day of sightseeing and eating breakfast sandwiches, and a group of Japanese girls slurping down cappuccinos and inspecting a map of area attractions. There's the usual group of older guys talking local news and drinking black coffee ... because every neighborhood bakery, whether they specialize in bagels or donuts, has a batch of regulars. And then there's me.

(9:30 AM)
I'm done with their wi-fi and packing up. Time for the next step for the day...

(10:25 AM)

It was quick moving to get the kayak off my car this morning, which must mean I'm getting better at the awkward loading/unloading process. It's about two miles of paddling from my parking spot to Dakota Point and I'm in no hurry.

The lake is still uncrowded; it's not yet the weekend and for that matter, it's still early in the day. It's supposed to be a hot one, but it's not going to be too bad for a few more hours. At the moment, it's easy to avoid the motorboats and fishermen as I take my meandering route across the lake.

For me, paddling versus being on a motorboat is a lot like being on a motorcycle instead of in a car. From a motorcycle, you feel more like you're part of the road instead of dashing over it -- you're in the scenery instead of just watching it go by. A kayak puts you in the lake instead of on it; birds don't scatter just because you get close, and the occasional (slightly stupid) fish will swim right up to your boat.

And just like being on a motorcycle, you have to keep a close eye on those bigger crafts because you never know when they might just not see you.

All in all, it's a great morning to be out. The sun is shining and those of us already on the water are in great moods. Fishermen greet me as I pass, the kids jumping off Dakota Point yell for me to rate their dives. I pause in the shade for a bit to read the book I carefully packed away in a plastic bag
While leaving the lake, I get held up at a stop sign by a beautiful sight: about twenty Corvettes from the rally in Spearfish passed by and I turned out into the middle of the pack. My return route gets altered slightly, but as I leave again I have to admit -- it's totally worth it.

(12:30 PM)
My arms are a little sore and apparently I wasn't generous enough with the sunscreen, but I feel good. Back at the camp, I scarf down some food, shower, and get dressed for the rest of the day.

(1:45 PM)
I finally park somewhere at the south end of Keystone. The town is hopping -- tourists, bikers, and 'Vettes are enjoying the weather, wandering Keystone's boardwalk and cramming into air conditioned shops. I'm officially "that girl" talking on her phone while she wanders. In my defense, the phone call is with my mother and yes, I know where I'm walking. The town's not that big.

Dani, my best friend from high school, and her husband are in the Hills for their annual camping/fishing trip with her family. Since my day off happens to overlap with their trip, we're meeting up for ice cream. As it happens, it's also their fifth anniversary. Their wedding was one of the more fun ones I've gotten to take part in -- they were married at Canaries Stadium in Sioux Falls, right on the pitcher's mound. Good fun.

After ice cream, some wandering and a cold beverage, we say our goodbyes and they head back to the campground. I pause to consider my options.

(4:30 PM)

To fill my spare hour, I drive to Hill City -- past the Faces, down a couple winding roads, and then out to Prairie Berry Winery.

I've visited about 75% of them, but PB remains my favorite Black Hills winery. Some of it is the atmosphere -- elegant but not overly snobby, the kind of place I've visited in both a dress and in my pineapple T-shirt and flip-flops. Some of it is the wine, which surprises me most of the time. (They've been around long enough to work out the kinks in a lot of their blends.)

Some of it is the fact that I can see Harney Peak from the parking lot.

Today, it's the people. The guy serving my wine samples is fun, and the couple next to me are Corvette rally-goers from Michigan. We talk about sightseeing in Wisconsin and they ask for insight on things to see in the Hills. I'm happy to share what I know, of course, and the wine ... serving ... guy ... whatever and I bicker a bit over what's worth the time and what's not.

(5:30 PM)
I'm in Custer by now, heading for a nearby campground. This time, it's because I have relatives to visit -- my grandparents, two of my dad's siblings and their spouses, and three of my cousins are camping for the weekend and I'm mooching dinner.

As with any family gathering, within fifteen minutes I find myself sucked into a card game. The first round is cancellation hearts -- something I've never played before ... and something in which my beginner's luck is clearly in high gear. We kids follow that with a couple rounds of cribbage before the fajitas are done.

It's been occurring to me gradually over the last couple of family gatherings that my little cousins ... just aren't anymore. These kids that are forever ten in my memory are now old enough for us to crack jokes and tell stories together, or to talk about college experiences and travel plans. When I wasn't looking, they suddenly got ... cool.

That fact hits me with a new force today and I cannot seem to reconcile with it. It's going to take a bit longer and that's all there is to it.

(10:30 PM)
As I drive back to the camp, I catch a glimpse of the laser light show at Crazy Horse and stare at the stars overhead. Fifteen hours and about 150 miles after the adventure began, I end where I started. I take my time returning to the staff cabin, enjoying the last few minutes of silence.

It's been a practically perfect day.

A Lake Adventure

2011-07-15T11:05:00.002-05:00

This is Shorty.

He's crazy.

This is Shorty's boat, which he built with his own two hands.

Last year, he and another psycho (Shorty #2, his half-adopted brother) dreamed this thing up. And then Shorty and another friend of his discovered some design flaws while out in some pretty high winds. Shorty just finished rebuilding this week and had to give it a test run.

It started off pretty well, although Shorty realized he should have had a second person on board. (Probably not his sister, though, as she would have only caused more issues.)

It wasn't all smooth sailing and a few bumps were acquired.

But it all worked out, mostly. Eventually, the only real problem was that the wind decided not to blow after all.

Which meant Shorty and his sister had to paddle it back in, much to the amusement of other lake-goers.

The End

(Hmm. Blogger could really use a script font...)

---

2011-07-15T10:24:00.000-05:00

Any day on the water is a good one.
-Unknown

Yesterday we got Shorty's boat out on the water. It wasn't entirely successful, but it wasn't a complete disaster, either. More on that later.

Today, I get to start my day with a fresh bagel and some wi-fi, continue it with some more paddling, and then head on to Keystone for ice cream and Custer for dinner.

I'm doing a full tour of the Hills today and it is good.

An Engineer's Approach

2011-07-12T22:14:00.120-05:00

"Made ... of ... dog ... poo."

"Honey, do you know why that little boy did those things, and said those things? It's because he likes you."

And there it is. That's the beginning of our problem ... Do you know what this means? It means we're encouraged -- no, programmed to believe that if a guy acts like a total jerk, that means he likes you!

(Flash through scenes of women consoling each other about various jerks.)

Why do we say this stuff to each other? Is it possible it's because we're too scared and it's too hard to say the one obvious truth that's staring everyone in the face?

-He's Just Not That Into You (opening scene)

I love movies, books, and to be perfectly honest, most forms of pop culture. It intrigues me. However, I try not to go to pop culture for advice about much of anything. This movie is one of the poppiest, and based on a poppy book on top of that.

But in every poppy relationship self-help book (or movie, or TV show, or whatever), there is a grain of truth. This one may even have more than one. Despite the fact that this book (movie) was a big thing two years ago, lately I've been having a lot of relationship conversations (no, not that kind -- I'm talking about the theoretical, "If you were in this situation, what would you do?" kind) and more and more, I'm liking some of the very straightforward things that were said in this particular source.

"And the rule is this -- if a guy doesn't call you, he doesn't want to call you."

I think a lot of us -- maybe even all of us -- have overly skewed approaches to the whole relationship world. Moreover, I think a lot of us don't realize just how off-balance we are. I'm seeing a lot of people falling into two main extremes -- either they overthink things and end up talking themselves out of a lot of potentially good relationships, or they don't think enough about what they're doing and end up in strings of bad relationships. (One guess as to which of those two extremes I usually follow.)

If we're too pragmatic, using only our heads, we cut people out before they have a chance to make more than a first impression. I've ranted about The List before and this is where that tends to get out of hand. On the flip side, we have those who are controlled by their hormones. However, if there's anything we should have learned from adolescence, it's that hormones are not to be trusted. They can give us clues and indicate all sorts of things, but the second they're relied upon they betray us.

"And let me guess. When you were stalking Conor the other night, were you obsessing about him calling, constantly pacing back and forth and staring at your phone for days even though the date was just kind of mediocre?"

We let both approaches get terribly out of hand. Why? Both of them tend to drive us completely crazy, whether we get tired of being alone or tired of being with the wrong people. And the older we get, the more we seem to try one or the other with just a little too much gusto.

Being who I am, I'm on a constant search for equilibrium ... and I think a solid approach actually has both elements to lesser degrees. A little pragmatism can temper otherwise out-of-hand hormones, but attraction can give you a clue when you might be overthinking things. The right combination could keep you from obsessing about things that just won't work out ... and free you up for something better. Heaven knows I haven't found quite the right approach yet, but I can't help but think that taking a small mental step back to see what's going on -- and more accurately, to what degree -- can still leave plenty of room to know when that right fit has really appeared and fall madly in love.

I'm not saying anything new, and by all means I'm beating it into the ground. But if we let it be that simple, how much pain and annoyance could that save?

Just a thought.

Oops.

2011-07-12T14:01:00.000-05:00

I keep breaking Rule #1 for the summer -- I'm not getting enough sleep. There's no excuse for it. Heck, as long as I've got a split shift I should really be taking a nap instead of drinking caffeinated beverages and hanging out at my local establishment, stealing their wi-fi.

Just full of bad habits today.

Anyway, I'm working on something that may actually be worth reading. Hopefully I'll finish it before any sleep-deprivation delirium sets in, although it may not post till tonight sometime.

Stay tuned.