Easter this year wasn't exactly like I thought it would be...in some ways, that's a relief and in others, it's a bummer. One of the bummer things is that Omar isn't here, so I'm lonely and spending a lot of time on Facebook, bothering my friends and family while I wait for the work week to begin. One of the good things is that I get to do whatever I want. One of the ways that it's a relief is that there's no one else's stuff pushed on me.
Usually, we go to Fanny's house. Fanny is Omar's cousin, who lives in Ica. They have a bed & breakfast inn there and we usually try to throw our holiday business her way when we can. In fact, nearly all the family does. Usually we would arrive first in our car (which was a minivan), oblivious to the fact that the rest of them were following (or maybe it was just ME who was oblivious to that fact.) Then a day later, two carloads of people - aunts, cousins, nieces, and nephews - would arrive, all jammed and crammed into one single vehicle. How they managed it year after year without someone dying of asphyxiation or being crushed, I'll never know.
So, anyway, during La Semana Santa (Holy Week), this entire family only eats fish. That's a whole week of fish for breakfast, fish for lunch, and fish for dinner. Fish, fish, fish. There's usually fried fish for breakfast, ceviche or fried fish for lunch, and fried fish for dinner, with the more martyrous older ladies picking at fish heads, tails, and fins and declaring them delicious, while the others consume the choice parts of the fish. It's usually at this time that I choose to go vegetarian. Watching someone picking the eyeballs out of fish heads at breakfast or just before going to bed gives me nightmares.
I'm notoriously a drylander. I won't go to the pool on my own - I have to be forced. I don't enjoy swimming and a trip to the beach only entices me to play in the sand and get my feet wet. I don't particularly enjoy the scent of the sea. It smells like fish to me. I do like sea shells, but only if they don't smell like dead fish. So I guess it all comes down to not really being a fan of fish. So during this Easter week, I explore other food options that aren't in conflict with what most people here consider proper. At Fanny's, I ask for bread and butter or avocado with tea for breakfast. For lunch, I can handle ceviche one or two days, but for the other 2 days, I usually ask for potatoes and salad. Dinner is usually similar to lunch. Eyebrows are usually raised at this. I've noticed that unless one specifically asks for vegetables, they are usually not given a starring role at any meal.
During the time at Fanny's we usually go to the fish market in the evening to help her pick out fish for the next day's meals. This market is right on the pier where the fishing boats come in with their catches, so sometimes you have to look sharp to avoid stepping on an escaping crab or the gull that is in hot pursuit. There are also processions on Good Friday that start from the church (I think) and carry the image of Christ and the Virgin Mary through town, returning to end at the same church. It's quite an amazing sight. The streets are closed for the processions, and people line the streets and pack the Plaza de Armas in hopes of getting glimpse of the spectacle, with the devout following throughout the entire route. And in the morning, the men and boys usually go fishing while the women stay in the house and prepare the fish and the rest of the food for the day's meals. After that chore, I usually read in the garden, which is huge and green and filled with pink and purple blooming buganvillia trees, or play with the dog. There's no Easter Egg hunt, no Easter basket, no Easter Bunny. Wah.
All in all, it's a nice week, filled with interesting things to do and see. At the end of the week, we pack our things to head home. It's at this time that it's usually announced that Aunt So&So has gained so much weight by eating too many fish heads that those who originally packed into the one car can't possibly fit into it for the 4 hour ride home. And being the good boy that he was raised to be, Omar usually offers seats in our car to those who would have been at the bottom of the pile in the other car. It's in this way that family members subtlely take advantage of one another. We never refuse. We would never consider refusing...unless there were fish heads brought as an after-Easter snack.
This year, Omar's in Trujillo with his brothers, so Celeste and I are on our own. No sign or scent of fish here. It's still been a vegetarian week, and keeping in mind that I don't bake in this heat, here are a few quick and easy although probably not peruvian things on my menu:
For breakfast:
Fried Granny Smith apples
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich
Miso Soup
Fried zuchini squash with new red potatoes, onions, and tomatoes
any above served with hot black tea
For lunch:
Twice cooked yellow chili peppers stuffed with bread crumbs, cheese, and onions
Fresh lettuce/tomato/cuke/carrot salad with lime juice and salt
Fried eggplant with cheese and fresh tomato/red wine sauce on french bread
Spicy tomato soup with shrimp and lime juice (okay here's a nod to the sea, but only a nod!)
any above serves with lime water or cebada
For dinner:
Anything from the first two menus, freshened up with ensalada criolla (shredded onion, marinated in lime juice and salt, with fresh mint leaves added at the last moment)
- O - throw it all out the window and have...
Pear and apple slices with good bleu cheese and a small glass of dry red wine...My favorite!
Happy Easter!
Apr 4, 2010
Happy Easter!
Happy Easter! This year my Easter is different than I thought it would be. I've had a week's holiday, which was great, but today I'm here with Celeste, and O is in Trujillo with his family. He left on Friday and will be back on Monday. It is a visit with dual purpose. He's there to check on the purchase of the house that we are helping with, and to see what is happening with his father. He left late Friday, promising to take pictures of the house and whatever is happeneing in Trujillo, but I see that he's left the camera on the desk where he put it while packing his back pack. Hmmm.
So, because I have nothing more interesting to show you, here are two spindles that I recently acquired:
Mahagony and paduak wood top whorl spindle
Reclaimed ash top whorl spindle.
This spindle maker uses only wood from old furniture that might otherwise be left in the landfill. I think it's a great idea to recycle and reclaim wood and other materials in this way!
And, I'm working on a funky crocheted skirt. Deep green, the top of it is mesh, ad the bottom is...well, the bottom part, I'm still working on. It's a process of evolution. I've experimented with several options and ripped out each one. I've got one more option in the works and if that one doesn't work out, I'm thinking about a whole skirt of crocheted mesh work, with maybe some beads on the lower edge to give it some weight. And since I have the camera, I should be able to put up some pictures of it later today, when I have it all figured out.
So, because I have nothing more interesting to show you, here are two spindles that I recently acquired:
Mahagony and paduak wood top whorl spindle
Reclaimed ash top whorl spindle.
This spindle maker uses only wood from old furniture that might otherwise be left in the landfill. I think it's a great idea to recycle and reclaim wood and other materials in this way!
And, I'm working on a funky crocheted skirt. Deep green, the top of it is mesh, ad the bottom is...well, the bottom part, I'm still working on. It's a process of evolution. I've experimented with several options and ripped out each one. I've got one more option in the works and if that one doesn't work out, I'm thinking about a whole skirt of crocheted mesh work, with maybe some beads on the lower edge to give it some weight. And since I have the camera, I should be able to put up some pictures of it later today, when I have it all figured out.
Apr 2, 2010
My Gansta Boys
OMG, I had two wannabe gangster dudes in my Basic 1 EFL class this month. They wore their pants down far enough that the crotch was around their knees, ball caps shoved down around their ears and pulled low over their faces, and gesticulated like they were some bad dudes from the 'hood as they slouched and strutted across the room, mumbling some unintelligible blabbing aimed at intimidating their classmates. They scared the crap out of me for a couple of days. Then, I made them take off the hats before coming into the class room and told them that in MY class, we are ladies and gentlemen (damas y caballeros.) AALLL of us. Things went along pretty well for about a week, and then they began to act out in class again.I couldn't figure out what they wanted or why they did it. One told me that "THEY" would kill him in the street if he didn't keep up his act. That ambiguous "THEY" reared its ugly head several times over the course of a month. All I could do was to tell them that "THEY" were not in the classroom, so this crap they were pulling wasn't acceptable. Change it or get out.
I found myself speaking pretty directly to them. Heh, that's one thing about the English language, American English in particular, that people in other countries find rude. But, hey, these two bad boys needed to hear it straight. I had to tell them today that their low grades were directly related to their behavior in class. It's very difficult to listen and participate in a meaningful way when you are spending all your energy and attention in acting like as a**...well, you can fill in that blank.
When students receive their grades, the teacher is expected to give some kind of explanation for the grades and some advice for improvement in the next cycle. I really dreaded giving these two their grades, but they were surprisingly accepting of their scores. One actually passed the class, although he thought he should have been at the top of the class. The other didn't make the cut, and felt kind of bummed out. I explained again that if he could have simply come to class with the idea of learning something and participating like a gentleman instead of some kind of baby gangster, he could have passed right along with his peers. It was really pretty sad to see the effort that he put into his final oral exam, and then to know that he was going to fail in spite of that one single last-ditch effort.
I wish he'd have put that much effort into his daily participation. He could have been great.
I found myself speaking pretty directly to them. Heh, that's one thing about the English language, American English in particular, that people in other countries find rude. But, hey, these two bad boys needed to hear it straight. I had to tell them today that their low grades were directly related to their behavior in class. It's very difficult to listen and participate in a meaningful way when you are spending all your energy and attention in acting like as a**...well, you can fill in that blank.
When students receive their grades, the teacher is expected to give some kind of explanation for the grades and some advice for improvement in the next cycle. I really dreaded giving these two their grades, but they were surprisingly accepting of their scores. One actually passed the class, although he thought he should have been at the top of the class. The other didn't make the cut, and felt kind of bummed out. I explained again that if he could have simply come to class with the idea of learning something and participating like a gentleman instead of some kind of baby gangster, he could have passed right along with his peers. It was really pretty sad to see the effort that he put into his final oral exam, and then to know that he was going to fail in spite of that one single last-ditch effort.
I wish he'd have put that much effort into his daily participation. He could have been great.
Mar 23, 2010
And you thought I was gone...
Right. I have some new spindles to show!
2 new spindles made by Heidi, who is RestlessPeasant on Ravelry. The top spindle is the Posey, and has my spin a long fiber on it. The middle one is the Big Lotus, a bottom whorl spindle made to ply with, and the lower spindle is a tibetan-style supported spindle made by Grizzly Mountain Arts on Etsy.com. I haven't learned to spin with it yet, but ooo la la! It's a beauty!
This is also a spindle made by Grizzly Mountain Arts. It's a tahkli supported spindle, the fat part (the whorl) is made from Tiger Maple and the tip is of mesquite wood. The shaft is birch. this spindle is a LOT of fun to spin on, but I don't think I'm terribly proficient with it yet, because it takes me a really LOOONG time to spin with. I use it to spin laceweight singles and it does great!
Here's the Big Lotus, with some plied laceweight yarn on it. I love the artwork that Heidi does on these spindles!
And I've been doing some spinning, as well.
I've been participating in a "Year of the Tiger" spin a long, and you can see some of that on the purple flower spindle. It's gorgeous fiber, fun to spin, and well prepared. I hope the yarn turns out as beautifully as the unspun fiber is!
Yesterday, O and I closed on a house in Trujillo. We have sold this apartment and the car in anticipation of moving to the US in mid-May, and WHAT?? O's family finds themselves evicted from the house they were renting because the owner sold it to someone who plans to live in the house (It was a major GAAAAGH!!! moment for me.) So...being the good son he is, O decided to buy a house for them. Not like we're so well-off that we can just go around buying houses whenever we feel like it, but neither of us could stand to see his brother and his wife and new baby, and his incapacitated father out on the street with no place to go. Their income is barely enough to get by on, and they usually end up living in a little ramshackle place (like the one they were just evicted from.) Isn't it just typical that just when everything seems to be coming together, something falls to pieces and things don't turn out like we planned?
So. Nearly all our savings here in Peru went into this house, which is plenty big for everyone. The roof is good, the walls are sound, the door locks, and each person can have his or her own bedroom, even O's mother, when she comes to visit. There is a mall planned to be built not far away in the near future, so the property values in this area are predicted to double in the next few years. The brother plans to buy his own place in a year or two, and it may be that the father will not live for too many more years. If all this comes to pass, we'll sell this house and hopefully earn our money back (fingers and toes crossed.) If not, then O's family will have a place to live as long as they need it, with no danger of being evicted. The deal is that they have to make periodic improvements in exchange for living there. In theory, it's a good deal for them, and possibly for us, but in practice...well, I have my apprehensions. I've already had my experience with other people living in my house, and it wasn't good.
Don't you just love it when a plan comes together? I mean, after all...What could possibly go wrong? :o(
2 new spindles made by Heidi, who is RestlessPeasant on Ravelry. The top spindle is the Posey, and has my spin a long fiber on it. The middle one is the Big Lotus, a bottom whorl spindle made to ply with, and the lower spindle is a tibetan-style supported spindle made by Grizzly Mountain Arts on Etsy.com. I haven't learned to spin with it yet, but ooo la la! It's a beauty! This is also a spindle made by Grizzly Mountain Arts. It's a tahkli supported spindle, the fat part (the whorl) is made from Tiger Maple and the tip is of mesquite wood. The shaft is birch. this spindle is a LOT of fun to spin on, but I don't think I'm terribly proficient with it yet, because it takes me a really LOOONG time to spin with. I use it to spin laceweight singles and it does great!Here's the Big Lotus, with some plied laceweight yarn on it. I love the artwork that Heidi does on these spindles!And I've been doing some spinning, as well.
I've been participating in a "Year of the Tiger" spin a long, and you can see some of that on the purple flower spindle. It's gorgeous fiber, fun to spin, and well prepared. I hope the yarn turns out as beautifully as the unspun fiber is!
Yesterday, O and I closed on a house in Trujillo. We have sold this apartment and the car in anticipation of moving to the US in mid-May, and WHAT?? O's family finds themselves evicted from the house they were renting because the owner sold it to someone who plans to live in the house (It was a major GAAAAGH!!! moment for me.) So...being the good son he is, O decided to buy a house for them. Not like we're so well-off that we can just go around buying houses whenever we feel like it, but neither of us could stand to see his brother and his wife and new baby, and his incapacitated father out on the street with no place to go. Their income is barely enough to get by on, and they usually end up living in a little ramshackle place (like the one they were just evicted from.) Isn't it just typical that just when everything seems to be coming together, something falls to pieces and things don't turn out like we planned?
So. Nearly all our savings here in Peru went into this house, which is plenty big for everyone. The roof is good, the walls are sound, the door locks, and each person can have his or her own bedroom, even O's mother, when she comes to visit. There is a mall planned to be built not far away in the near future, so the property values in this area are predicted to double in the next few years. The brother plans to buy his own place in a year or two, and it may be that the father will not live for too many more years. If all this comes to pass, we'll sell this house and hopefully earn our money back (fingers and toes crossed.) If not, then O's family will have a place to live as long as they need it, with no danger of being evicted. The deal is that they have to make periodic improvements in exchange for living there. In theory, it's a good deal for them, and possibly for us, but in practice...well, I have my apprehensions. I've already had my experience with other people living in my house, and it wasn't good.
Don't you just love it when a plan comes together? I mean, after all...What could possibly go wrong? :o(
Mar 15, 2010
Dear Blog...
Oh dear blog, I have left you alone for far too long! I swear that I have not totally forsaken you for Facebook. I have taken some photos and promise to post them as soon as I find the USB cable! (Farmville has almost stolen my very soul!)
Mar 9, 2010
Feb 28, 2010
My World and Welcome to It
What a week! It's been just like the rest of my life: so full of odd little instances that it seems like my entire life is full of odd little instances. So it's like one big odd instance that lasts a whole week.
We're getting ready to move back to the US, at least I am, and to prepare, we're doing things! Yes! We're doing things! Not exactly the kind of things you might imagine, though. Behold:
Last Sunday, O and I went to get groceries at the local supermarket. We got his favorite greek-style olives that come in a plastic box full of olives and juice. They are a local product, really, Peru has almost everything necessary to be self-sufficient in the way of produce and natural resources. Anyway, these olives were carefully placed into a bag and loaded from the shopping cart to the back seat of the car. Then we unloaded all th grocery bags from the car to the steps of the apartment building. I only have so many hands, so I usually drop my cell phone and wallet into a bag with dry goods, like bags of rice and boxes of cereal, so I can carry everything up. So I did that, but somehow the box of olives got turned on its side and all the juice leaked out in to the bag they were in. When I lifted that bag to the counter, it went all catty-wampus on me and all the juice that had left the olives splashed out...into the bag with my cell phone and wallet. Oddly, everything in the wallet was totally dry, which was probably due to the fact that my cell phone soaked up a lot of the liquid, and ended up fried. Argh. Cell phone sautéed by its own battery, in olive juice.
Later that night some lady called for O, and upon discovering that he wasn't at home, she asked for his cell number. I had to tell her that I didn't know what his number was, since it was saved to my cell, I never bothered to learn it - just hit the speed dial to call him. After finding out that I was his wife, she proceeded to tell me what a terrible wife I must be, if I didn't even know my own husband's cell phone number and what was I going to do about it, and did he know that I was so slovenly and uncaring that I didn't keep track of his phone number and she was certainly going to tell him about it.
I hung up on her.
Then we sold the car. O was thrilled that he'd driven a hard bargain and gotten his price, which was really pretty good for a 1997 Mitsubishi Chariot minivan that had been rear-ended at east once and honestly needed some serious repairs. We transferred the title over and collected our money and walked back to the house, which was the moment that reality set in. OMG, it was like losing a child! O has been in mourning for a week, but shows signs of adjusting to life on foot again, or at least life on city bus.
The next day, O hitched a ride to class with a friend who lives in Chorrillos, an hour away from our neighborhood. That was really nice of the guy, but O forgot his keys in the friend's car and didn't realize it till he got home...then had to take a taxi all the way to Chorrillos to retrieve the key. He didn't get back home till around midnight. And then he told me that his taxi driver was either drunk or really tired because he couldn't drive without roaming all over the road and he kept falling asleep at the stop lights. SCARY!
On Thursday, when I stepped out the door to go to work, the doorman told me that the water tank would be cleaned on Friday about 10 am, and that the water would be off for a few hours. What he REALLY meant was that the water would be off for a FEW DAYS. The water was turned off before I got home from work on Thursday, and stayed off till this morning. Thursday night, I walked to the closest store to buy some 2.5 liter bottles of water so we'd have drinking water and something to brush our teeth, knowing that the water would be on in the morning for showers and washing dishes and whatnot. On Friday, I returned to the store to buy some more water to scrub off with. On Saturday, I went to the store AGAIN to buy water and found it sold out of water. GAAUUGH! Saturday
was particularly hot in the classrooms and I was feeling particularly self-conscious and stinky as I walked between the desks during the exams. It was more like squishing and sloshing between the desks as I sweated along. After two days of bathing in a plastic water bottle, I was beginning to feel like I'd been in the trenches for far too long. In short, I reeked. I was thankful for the end of the work day so I could get home and take a shower. Surely the water would be on by the time I got home.
WRONG.
The worst of it was that not only did I stink, but I had quite a good crop of fruit flies buzzing in and around my sinkful of dirty dishes and a pile of laundry like I hadn't seen since having surgery last year. It was too much for me, so I grabbed the last bottle of water before O could, slammed the kitchen door shut before the flies could take over the rest of the house, and took refuge in the bathroom to scrape off the top layer of dried sweat and car exhaust. I did leave the last half of the bottle of water for O...he stunk worse than I did.
This morning, before daylight, I checked for water in the bathroom. EUREKA!! We had struck water again and I leapt in the shower. After that, I attacked the kitchen with a can of Raid and scared the daylights out of the flies that had taken up housekeeping in the sink, beneath the dirty dishes. I'm sure I didn't manage to kill any of them, but I destroyed their stockpile of moldy and stinking food bits when I washed the dishes, so there's nothing worth returning for. I posted the Raid can on the window sill as a wicked reminder to any and all flies that my kitchen sink is an unfriendly environment for fruit flies.
What can this coming week bring that could possibly beat last week? Can't wait to see...
We're getting ready to move back to the US, at least I am, and to prepare, we're doing things! Yes! We're doing things! Not exactly the kind of things you might imagine, though. Behold:
Last Sunday, O and I went to get groceries at the local supermarket. We got his favorite greek-style olives that come in a plastic box full of olives and juice. They are a local product, really, Peru has almost everything necessary to be self-sufficient in the way of produce and natural resources. Anyway, these olives were carefully placed into a bag and loaded from the shopping cart to the back seat of the car. Then we unloaded all th grocery bags from the car to the steps of the apartment building. I only have so many hands, so I usually drop my cell phone and wallet into a bag with dry goods, like bags of rice and boxes of cereal, so I can carry everything up. So I did that, but somehow the box of olives got turned on its side and all the juice leaked out in to the bag they were in. When I lifted that bag to the counter, it went all catty-wampus on me and all the juice that had left the olives splashed out...into the bag with my cell phone and wallet. Oddly, everything in the wallet was totally dry, which was probably due to the fact that my cell phone soaked up a lot of the liquid, and ended up fried. Argh. Cell phone sautéed by its own battery, in olive juice.
Later that night some lady called for O, and upon discovering that he wasn't at home, she asked for his cell number. I had to tell her that I didn't know what his number was, since it was saved to my cell, I never bothered to learn it - just hit the speed dial to call him. After finding out that I was his wife, she proceeded to tell me what a terrible wife I must be, if I didn't even know my own husband's cell phone number and what was I going to do about it, and did he know that I was so slovenly and uncaring that I didn't keep track of his phone number and she was certainly going to tell him about it.
I hung up on her.
Then we sold the car. O was thrilled that he'd driven a hard bargain and gotten his price, which was really pretty good for a 1997 Mitsubishi Chariot minivan that had been rear-ended at east once and honestly needed some serious repairs. We transferred the title over and collected our money and walked back to the house, which was the moment that reality set in. OMG, it was like losing a child! O has been in mourning for a week, but shows signs of adjusting to life on foot again, or at least life on city bus.
The next day, O hitched a ride to class with a friend who lives in Chorrillos, an hour away from our neighborhood. That was really nice of the guy, but O forgot his keys in the friend's car and didn't realize it till he got home...then had to take a taxi all the way to Chorrillos to retrieve the key. He didn't get back home till around midnight. And then he told me that his taxi driver was either drunk or really tired because he couldn't drive without roaming all over the road and he kept falling asleep at the stop lights. SCARY!
On Thursday, when I stepped out the door to go to work, the doorman told me that the water tank would be cleaned on Friday about 10 am, and that the water would be off for a few hours. What he REALLY meant was that the water would be off for a FEW DAYS. The water was turned off before I got home from work on Thursday, and stayed off till this morning. Thursday night, I walked to the closest store to buy some 2.5 liter bottles of water so we'd have drinking water and something to brush our teeth, knowing that the water would be on in the morning for showers and washing dishes and whatnot. On Friday, I returned to the store to buy some more water to scrub off with. On Saturday, I went to the store AGAIN to buy water and found it sold out of water. GAAUUGH! Saturday
was particularly hot in the classrooms and I was feeling particularly self-conscious and stinky as I walked between the desks during the exams. It was more like squishing and sloshing between the desks as I sweated along. After two days of bathing in a plastic water bottle, I was beginning to feel like I'd been in the trenches for far too long. In short, I reeked. I was thankful for the end of the work day so I could get home and take a shower. Surely the water would be on by the time I got home.
WRONG.
The worst of it was that not only did I stink, but I had quite a good crop of fruit flies buzzing in and around my sinkful of dirty dishes and a pile of laundry like I hadn't seen since having surgery last year. It was too much for me, so I grabbed the last bottle of water before O could, slammed the kitchen door shut before the flies could take over the rest of the house, and took refuge in the bathroom to scrape off the top layer of dried sweat and car exhaust. I did leave the last half of the bottle of water for O...he stunk worse than I did.
This morning, before daylight, I checked for water in the bathroom. EUREKA!! We had struck water again and I leapt in the shower. After that, I attacked the kitchen with a can of Raid and scared the daylights out of the flies that had taken up housekeeping in the sink, beneath the dirty dishes. I'm sure I didn't manage to kill any of them, but I destroyed their stockpile of moldy and stinking food bits when I washed the dishes, so there's nothing worth returning for. I posted the Raid can on the window sill as a wicked reminder to any and all flies that my kitchen sink is an unfriendly environment for fruit flies.
What can this coming week bring that could possibly beat last week? Can't wait to see...
Feb 19, 2010
On Pronunciation, or...a Torty-un-Tord
Today's the first day in ten that it hasn't been 100 degrees in the shade, so to celebrate, I'm posting...
I've recently been asked to teach a pronunciation course. To prepare for this, I've been attending some workshops with a very fine teacher of pronunciation here at the institute. We teach American English here, and in examining the way words in English are pronounced, I find myself turning words and their pronunciation over in my mind...over and over. I disagree with some of the ways she says words are pronounced, a very small point really, because English pronunciation in the US is so influenced by the region and prevalent cultural group of the local area. She says that A, as in RAN is pronounced with almost 2 syllables, like RAY-AN, where as I (being from the High Plains area) say it with just one syllable, as A. Just AAAA. No AY-A. Just AAA. And the -ing in bring, something, thing, wing, and ring...I pronounce that almost like EEEENG, long E and NG. She says it's pronounced with a very short i, similar to THIS, IN, LIFT. She learned her pronunciation in the Deep South, and I grew up in Colorado. With all this regional difference, I wonder if the students will be confused.
Along with that, as I think about pronunciation, I have in my mind the story that my parents used to tell us when we were all kids. How it kept coming up, I can't remember, but we heard it numerous times. We always laughed uproariously each and every time we heard it...here it is, in a nutshell:
When my parents, Tommy and Phyllis, were in school, they knew a little boy named Johnny, whose last name escapes me now. When he was little, Johnny mispronounced his words, never learning to say his "K", "G", "F", or any other sound that required him to move his tongue from the ridge behind his teeth. So he used the "T" and "D" sound a lot when he spoke, calling my mom "Tyllis" instead of Phyllis. He never had the opportunity to go to speech therapy, but he could make himself understood and besides - he was so darn cute when he was in elementary school, so Johnny never learned the correct way to pronounce most of his words.
Time passed, and everyone grew up and tried to be cool, even little Johnny Whatsisname (gads, I wish I could remember his name!). The girls were wearing their hair in tall bouffant 'dos and wearing red lipstick and black mascara, and the boys were rolling cigarette boxes in their t-shirt sleeves and rolling their pant legs up so their white socks would show. Johnny's parents got him a 1941 Ford coupe to drive around, so cool. So very cool...until he opened his mouth.
Johnny never did learn to pronounce any sounds that required him to use different points of articulation in his mouth, aside from his old stand-by, the ridge behind his teeth. He wanted to be cool though, and boasted about his "Torty-un-Tord" (Forty-one Ford.) Everyone, even my mom, thought he was funny. Plus, he had the hots for my mom. So one day, he pulled up beside her with the '41 Ford and offered her and her friends a ride in his car. They all piled in, with my mom in the front seat, my dad as one of the pals in the back. Johnny leaned over to my mom and put his arm around her shoulders, puckered up, and (being the suave, smooth-talker that he was) said, "Div us a tiss, Tyllis!" While the pals in the backseat laughed so hard they couldn't sit up and gasped for breath, my mom gave him a look that said "Drop dead, jerk", exited the car and ran, mortified. You know the look I'm talking about.
Funny how after these more than 60 years, old Johnny is still remembered, but not as a cute little kid with a speech impediment, nor as a cool teenager in a hot car. We all remember him as either the moron, or the poor unfortunate, who never learned to pronounce his words correctly.
I've recently been asked to teach a pronunciation course. To prepare for this, I've been attending some workshops with a very fine teacher of pronunciation here at the institute. We teach American English here, and in examining the way words in English are pronounced, I find myself turning words and their pronunciation over in my mind...over and over. I disagree with some of the ways she says words are pronounced, a very small point really, because English pronunciation in the US is so influenced by the region and prevalent cultural group of the local area. She says that A, as in RAN is pronounced with almost 2 syllables, like RAY-AN, where as I (being from the High Plains area) say it with just one syllable, as A. Just AAAA. No AY-A. Just AAA. And the -ing in bring, something, thing, wing, and ring...I pronounce that almost like EEEENG, long E and NG. She says it's pronounced with a very short i, similar to THIS, IN, LIFT. She learned her pronunciation in the Deep South, and I grew up in Colorado. With all this regional difference, I wonder if the students will be confused.
Along with that, as I think about pronunciation, I have in my mind the story that my parents used to tell us when we were all kids. How it kept coming up, I can't remember, but we heard it numerous times. We always laughed uproariously each and every time we heard it...here it is, in a nutshell:
When my parents, Tommy and Phyllis, were in school, they knew a little boy named Johnny, whose last name escapes me now. When he was little, Johnny mispronounced his words, never learning to say his "K", "G", "F", or any other sound that required him to move his tongue from the ridge behind his teeth. So he used the "T" and "D" sound a lot when he spoke, calling my mom "Tyllis" instead of Phyllis. He never had the opportunity to go to speech therapy, but he could make himself understood and besides - he was so darn cute when he was in elementary school, so Johnny never learned the correct way to pronounce most of his words.
Time passed, and everyone grew up and tried to be cool, even little Johnny Whatsisname (gads, I wish I could remember his name!). The girls were wearing their hair in tall bouffant 'dos and wearing red lipstick and black mascara, and the boys were rolling cigarette boxes in their t-shirt sleeves and rolling their pant legs up so their white socks would show. Johnny's parents got him a 1941 Ford coupe to drive around, so cool. So very cool...until he opened his mouth.
Johnny never did learn to pronounce any sounds that required him to use different points of articulation in his mouth, aside from his old stand-by, the ridge behind his teeth. He wanted to be cool though, and boasted about his "Torty-un-Tord" (Forty-one Ford.) Everyone, even my mom, thought he was funny. Plus, he had the hots for my mom. So one day, he pulled up beside her with the '41 Ford and offered her and her friends a ride in his car. They all piled in, with my mom in the front seat, my dad as one of the pals in the back. Johnny leaned over to my mom and put his arm around her shoulders, puckered up, and (being the suave, smooth-talker that he was) said, "Div us a tiss, Tyllis!" While the pals in the backseat laughed so hard they couldn't sit up and gasped for breath, my mom gave him a look that said "Drop dead, jerk", exited the car and ran, mortified. You know the look I'm talking about.
Funny how after these more than 60 years, old Johnny is still remembered, but not as a cute little kid with a speech impediment, nor as a cool teenager in a hot car. We all remember him as either the moron, or the poor unfortunate, who never learned to pronounce his words correctly.
Feb 7, 2010
Lion Brand's Knitted Menagerie
You've heard of "The Glass Menagerie", right? Well...
Lion Brand made a wonderful display of large knitted and crocheted animals at the Craft and Hobby Association convention in Anaheim, California last week. Pictures of some of them can be seen here. They even had knitted plants!
I can't imagine the amount of work that went into this project, but I love the results, especially the peacock.
Lion Brand made a wonderful display of large knitted and crocheted animals at the Craft and Hobby Association convention in Anaheim, California last week. Pictures of some of them can be seen here. They even had knitted plants!
I can't imagine the amount of work that went into this project, but I love the results, especially the peacock.
Feb 1, 2010
Safe - For the Moment
I have a confession to make...
When I was a child, a monster hid under the bed, only on MY side of the bed. My older sister may have had her own monster on her side, but I can't be sure. She never spoke of it. I don't know if it is common knowledge, but monsters often live under the beds of children. As I grew up, the monster stayed, but made itself less obvious, probably because of the increased activities of 4 adolescent girls. Still, at night, I had to stand back from the side of the bed and LEAP, from a distance of about 3 feet, into bed to keep the monster from grabbing me by the feet and dragging me under there so he could feast on little kid meat. And of course, COVERS were the only thing that actually kept me safe through the night. I was so thankful that I had my magic covers to stand between me and certain death at the hands of the monster under the bed. Without covers, it could have reached up and snatched me away in my dreams.
When I grew up, I got married and moved away, escaping the monster for a few years. But eventually, the monster tracked me down and once again crawled under my bed. I didn't see it, but one evening after a particularly stressful day, I felt its presence and had to leap into bed again. Imagine my chagrine. Twenty-something years old, and I had to leap 3 feet into my bed. I lived with that monster under the bed until getting divorced several years later. I managed to give it the slip again when I moved out and moved around for a few months. I moved into my own house in Cheyenne, and still manged to elude the under-the-bed monster.
PHEW!
And then I moved to Peru and got married to O, confident that the monster under the bed would never, ever be able to follow me across North, Central, and South Americas. And, until last night, I was sure that the monster hadn't figured out where I was, and maybe had even forgotten about me.
...end of confession...
I didn't feel that monster's presence, but last night in the middle of the night, when Celeste crept under the bed to her usual cool summertime sleeping spot, a struggle ensued with what I could only conclude was indeed the monster. She must have caught the monster unaware, and was about to catch him off-guard. For a few intense moments, there was a short battle that included some little barks and growls, and whimpers, some kicking, and then Celeste launched her most lethal attack yet - THE DEADLY GREEN GAS. There was a final kick to the mattress and the bed frame, a vicious growl, and then a soft sigh. Mercifully, a breeze came through the window and carried the remnants of the gas out...or maybe it was the monster, finally vanquished, that created the breeze when it leaped out the bedroom window to escape the deadly fumes.
A short time later, Celeste emerged from under the bed, rumpled and bearing a few dust bunnies (a sure sign that the monster had been there) on her coat, and crawled up onto the foot of the bed to sleep the deep sleep of a triumphant warrior. Luckily, she hadn't been suffocated by her own gas attack, which is always a danger to the novice monster hunter. Mission accomplished. The monster under the bed is gone - until next time.
When I was a child, a monster hid under the bed, only on MY side of the bed. My older sister may have had her own monster on her side, but I can't be sure. She never spoke of it. I don't know if it is common knowledge, but monsters often live under the beds of children. As I grew up, the monster stayed, but made itself less obvious, probably because of the increased activities of 4 adolescent girls. Still, at night, I had to stand back from the side of the bed and LEAP, from a distance of about 3 feet, into bed to keep the monster from grabbing me by the feet and dragging me under there so he could feast on little kid meat. And of course, COVERS were the only thing that actually kept me safe through the night. I was so thankful that I had my magic covers to stand between me and certain death at the hands of the monster under the bed. Without covers, it could have reached up and snatched me away in my dreams.
When I grew up, I got married and moved away, escaping the monster for a few years. But eventually, the monster tracked me down and once again crawled under my bed. I didn't see it, but one evening after a particularly stressful day, I felt its presence and had to leap into bed again. Imagine my chagrine. Twenty-something years old, and I had to leap 3 feet into my bed. I lived with that monster under the bed until getting divorced several years later. I managed to give it the slip again when I moved out and moved around for a few months. I moved into my own house in Cheyenne, and still manged to elude the under-the-bed monster.
PHEW!
And then I moved to Peru and got married to O, confident that the monster under the bed would never, ever be able to follow me across North, Central, and South Americas. And, until last night, I was sure that the monster hadn't figured out where I was, and maybe had even forgotten about me.
...end of confession...
I didn't feel that monster's presence, but last night in the middle of the night, when Celeste crept under the bed to her usual cool summertime sleeping spot, a struggle ensued with what I could only conclude was indeed the monster. She must have caught the monster unaware, and was about to catch him off-guard. For a few intense moments, there was a short battle that included some little barks and growls, and whimpers, some kicking, and then Celeste launched her most lethal attack yet - THE DEADLY GREEN GAS. There was a final kick to the mattress and the bed frame, a vicious growl, and then a soft sigh. Mercifully, a breeze came through the window and carried the remnants of the gas out...or maybe it was the monster, finally vanquished, that created the breeze when it leaped out the bedroom window to escape the deadly fumes.
A short time later, Celeste emerged from under the bed, rumpled and bearing a few dust bunnies (a sure sign that the monster had been there) on her coat, and crawled up onto the foot of the bed to sleep the deep sleep of a triumphant warrior. Luckily, she hadn't been suffocated by her own gas attack, which is always a danger to the novice monster hunter. Mission accomplished. The monster under the bed is gone - until next time.
Jan 30, 2010
A picture of Kaiser
Here is Kaiser, with his hair growing back, although still quite short. Here's the link to Donna's blog post about him.
Jan 23, 2010
Update on Kaiser
Today, Donna sent me an e-mail about Kaiser:
Asunto: RE: Kaiser
Enviados: 20 enero 12:53
Hi Kathleen, kaiser is actually beautiful! I was starting to think I would never see him as a well dog again. He loves to take walks with his team of "walkers" who cater to his his whims. First walk of the day is at 6 30 a.m. to the lake and back! Will be posting fotos on my blog soon!
D.
This makes me soooo happy! Thanks to everyone who donated on Kaiser's behalf! When I see the pictures of Kaiser, I'll post a link so you can go see them!
Asunto: RE: Kaiser
Enviados: 20 enero 12:53
Hi Kathleen, kaiser is actually beautiful! I was starting to think I would never see him as a well dog again. He loves to take walks with his team of "walkers" who cater to his his whims. First walk of the day is at 6 30 a.m. to the lake and back! Will be posting fotos on my blog soon!
D.
This makes me soooo happy! Thanks to everyone who donated on Kaiser's behalf! When I see the pictures of Kaiser, I'll post a link so you can go see them!
Jan 14, 2010
Jan 13, 2010
Scam stuff
I got this in by e-mail today:
£1,500,000 BRITISH POUNDS WINNER!!!.
From: Liverwood Promotion (brookss@bellnet.ca)
You may not know this sender.Mark as safe|Mark as junk
Sent: Tue 1/12/10 7:32 AM
To:
Dear Prize Winner, £1,500,000.00 British Pounds Winner in 'January' New Year 2010 Promo Draws: This prize was AWARDED to your E-mail Address by Liverwood Promo. CLAIMS Reference Number: LIUK/5020/0261/20 Reply to ( extolfinance5@aol.co.uk ) Extol Finance, For Enquiry: Telephone: 0044-70-3183-3488. United Kingdom. For claims,FILL THE FORM BELOW:YOUR NAME: ADDRESS: TELEPHONE/CELL: AGE:COUNTRY:NATIONALITY:OCCUPATION: You can also Fax this message with your E-mail to Fax Number: 0044-84-4774-2128 Thanks for your response for Claim.Liverwood PromotionLeicester, United Kingdom
Then I googled them and found this:
The e-mail here is just one type of the thousands of scam e-mail variants sent out each day by 419 scammers. If you've received an e-mail even remotely similar to the one on this page or if you have arrived at this page via an internet search resulting from an e-mail that you received, I can 100% guarantee that YOU HAVE RECEIVED A SCAM E-MAIL!
£1,500,000 BRITISH POUNDS WINNER!!!.
From: Liverwood Promotion (brookss@bellnet.ca)
You may not know this sender.Mark as safe|Mark as junk
Sent: Tue 1/12/10 7:32 AM
To:
Dear Prize Winner, £1,500,000.00 British Pounds Winner in 'January' New Year 2010 Promo Draws: This prize was AWARDED to your E-mail Address by Liverwood Promo. CLAIMS Reference Number: LIUK/5020/0261/20 Reply to ( extolfinance5@aol.co.uk ) Extol Finance, For Enquiry: Telephone: 0044-70-3183-3488. United Kingdom. For claims,FILL THE FORM BELOW:YOUR NAME: ADDRESS: TELEPHONE/CELL: AGE:COUNTRY:NATIONALITY:OCCUPATION: You can also Fax this message with your E-mail to Fax Number: 0044-84-4774-2128 Thanks for your response for Claim.Liverwood PromotionLeicester, United Kingdom
Then I googled them and found this:
The e-mail here is just one type of the thousands of scam e-mail variants sent out each day by 419 scammers. If you've received an e-mail even remotely similar to the one on this page or if you have arrived at this page via an internet search resulting from an e-mail that you received, I can 100% guarantee that YOU HAVE RECEIVED A SCAM E-MAIL!
Fiberwebs
I've been doing some spinning...
The read, blue, and black sparkly stuff is Vardo, from Farm Witch. The brown skein is handspun of wool from Maggie's Farm, Inc.
And a little bit of crocheting. The beret is of handspun Flickabunda wool that I got from Maggie's Farm.
Hmmmm...I thought this would be the underside of the beret, but...
The read, blue, and black sparkly stuff is Vardo, from Farm Witch. The brown skein is handspun of wool from Maggie's Farm, Inc.
And a little bit of crocheting. The beret is of handspun Flickabunda wool that I got from Maggie's Farm.
Hmmmm...I thought this would be the underside of the beret, but...
Jan 10, 2010
Sherlock Holmes, the movie - no spoilers here
Allow me to rave a little about "Sherlock Holmes":
I think this is probably THE BEST movie that Robert Downey Jr. has ever done. I don't usually like Robert Downey Jr, nor do I like Jude Law, but I have to say that in this movie, they were both brilliant! It's a fun movie, although set in dark and gloomy London, similar to the set of "Sweeney Todd, The Butcher of Fleet Street". The music is great, the story is great, and the acting is wonderful.
If you haven't seen it, RUN, don't walk, to the nearest theater showing it!
I think this is probably THE BEST movie that Robert Downey Jr. has ever done. I don't usually like Robert Downey Jr, nor do I like Jude Law, but I have to say that in this movie, they were both brilliant! It's a fun movie, although set in dark and gloomy London, similar to the set of "Sweeney Todd, The Butcher of Fleet Street". The music is great, the story is great, and the acting is wonderful.
If you haven't seen it, RUN, don't walk, to the nearest theater showing it!
Sorcery and Cecelia, or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot
I just finished reading "Sorcery and Cecelia, or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot", by Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer. I've been looking for a good book to read ever since I finished the last Septimus Heap book. This one wasn't too bad!
The story takes place in Victorian England, and is comprised of letters sent between two cousins, Kate and Cecelia. Kate is in London, "coming out" this Season, being 16 years old now, and Cecelia is at home at Rushton Manor in Essex. The two correspond throughout the Season, and disclose secrets about the strange goings on in their lives. Both are intrigued by magic, but both are forbidden to study it by their ever-watchful and extremely proper aunties, Elizabeth and Charlotte. Forbidden to study magic, they are unwittingly drawn into a subversively sorcerous plot to destroy Thomas, the Marquis of Schofield (who is a magician in his own right), and his friend James Tarleton (no wizard, but an extremely loyal friend of Thomas.)
The story line twists and turns, drawing the reader deeper into the recesses of the tale, revealing humor, intrigue, and two different plots. After readng the story, I read the afterword at the end of the book with the two different authors, and discovered that the entire story was indeed written in a series of letters. The two authors had entered into "The Letter Game", in which they collaborated on the development of the main characters and the setting and the timing (when the story would end), but each created their own plots and additional characters, and did not discuss them with each other. After the letter game ended, they got together and revised, refined and created a more readable and understandable story, then dashed off to an editor. It wasn't originally intended to be published - it was just for fun. The letters are long on fun and gossip, full of creativity and wit.
I enjoyed the book immensely. I think it would be fun to play the letter game, too! I wish I could find someone who was interested in playing. What fun it could be!
The story takes place in Victorian England, and is comprised of letters sent between two cousins, Kate and Cecelia. Kate is in London, "coming out" this Season, being 16 years old now, and Cecelia is at home at Rushton Manor in Essex. The two correspond throughout the Season, and disclose secrets about the strange goings on in their lives. Both are intrigued by magic, but both are forbidden to study it by their ever-watchful and extremely proper aunties, Elizabeth and Charlotte. Forbidden to study magic, they are unwittingly drawn into a subversively sorcerous plot to destroy Thomas, the Marquis of Schofield (who is a magician in his own right), and his friend James Tarleton (no wizard, but an extremely loyal friend of Thomas.)
The story line twists and turns, drawing the reader deeper into the recesses of the tale, revealing humor, intrigue, and two different plots. After readng the story, I read the afterword at the end of the book with the two different authors, and discovered that the entire story was indeed written in a series of letters. The two authors had entered into "The Letter Game", in which they collaborated on the development of the main characters and the setting and the timing (when the story would end), but each created their own plots and additional characters, and did not discuss them with each other. After the letter game ended, they got together and revised, refined and created a more readable and understandable story, then dashed off to an editor. It wasn't originally intended to be published - it was just for fun. The letters are long on fun and gossip, full of creativity and wit.
I enjoyed the book immensely. I think it would be fun to play the letter game, too! I wish I could find someone who was interested in playing. What fun it could be!
Jan 2, 2010
What were they thinking???
Every so often, I take a look at some of the links other people have on their blogs. Sometimes they give me pause, sometimes they make me gag, and sometimes they make me wonder just what on earth they were thinking. Here are a few:
People of Walmart
(this one made me go check my wardrobe and throw out those leopard print tights - so tacky! - that I wore with my pre-worn polkadot hotpants and plaid belly shirt.) Personally, I do shop at Walmart sometimes, but there's something about the place that encourages some to get creative with what they're wearing.
For Your Entertainment
(this one makes me grit my teeth)
Cake Wrecks (It takes a special talent to be a cake decorator, and some of us just don't have it.)
People of Walmart
(this one made me go check my wardrobe and throw out those leopard print tights - so tacky! - that I wore with my pre-worn polkadot hotpants and plaid belly shirt.) Personally, I do shop at Walmart sometimes, but there's something about the place that encourages some to get creative with what they're wearing.
For Your Entertainment
(this one makes me grit my teeth)
Cake Wrecks (It takes a special talent to be a cake decorator, and some of us just don't have it.)
Dec 30, 2009
Dec 29, 2009
Wow! Almost 3 years blogging!
So, yeah, my 3rd blogoversary is coming up in January, and I am busy thinking up things to do to celebrate:
a) I could have a give away
b) I could make a resolution to blog more often and have a giveway
c) I could have a contest and have a giveaway.
I think I'll probably have a giveaway no matter what. Just need to come up with something cool to give away. Fiber? Handspun yarn? Something hand knit or crocheted? Or maybe some commercial yarn (be warned - it's all synthetic) or a creation from that?
While I'm thinking, why don't you think about it and tell me what you think? Then i'll compile the ideas and see what I can come up with!
a) I could have a give away
b) I could make a resolution to blog more often and have a giveway
c) I could have a contest and have a giveaway.
I think I'll probably have a giveaway no matter what. Just need to come up with something cool to give away. Fiber? Handspun yarn? Something hand knit or crocheted? Or maybe some commercial yarn (be warned - it's all synthetic) or a creation from that?
While I'm thinking, why don't you think about it and tell me what you think? Then i'll compile the ideas and see what I can come up with!
Dec 24, 2009
Merry Christmas!
I wish I knew Bailey! I have visions of Celeste in the same snowy bliss next winter!
Dec 22, 2009
Hmmm...
Okay, I'm all for cleaning up the environment, but let's do something about the exhaust from gasoline and diesel engine cars first and put everyone in a vehicle that uses clean energy. THEN I'll think about getting Celeste a job, but I can't really think about eating my pet for Christmas Dinner. Found on Yahoo right here.
Polluting pets: the devastating impact of man's best friend
by Isabelle Toussaint and Jurgen Hecker Isabelle Toussaint And Jurgen Hecker – Sun Dec 20, 3:23 pm ET
"PARIS (AFP) – Man's best friend could be one of the environment's worst enemies, according to a new study which says the carbon pawprint of a pet dog is more than double that of a gas-guzzling sports utility vehicle.
But the revelation in the book "Time to Eat the Dog: The Real Guide to Sustainable Living" by New Zealanders Robert and Brenda Vale has angered pet owners who feel they are being singled out as troublemakers.
The Vales, specialists in sustainable living at Victoria University of Wellington, analysed popular brands of pet food and calculated that a medium-sized dog eats around 164 kilos (360 pounds) of meat and 95 kilos of cereal a year.
Combine the land required to generate its food and a "medium" sized dog has an annual footprint of 0.84 hectares (2.07 acres) -- around twice the 0.41 hectares required by a 4x4 driving 10,000 kilometres (6,200 miles) a year, including energy to build the car.
To confirm the results, the New Scientist magazine asked John Barrett at the Stockholm Environment Institute in York, Britain, to calculate eco-pawprints based on his own data. The results were essentially the same.
"Owning a dog really is quite an extravagance, mainly because of the carbon footprint of meat," Barrett said.
Other animals aren't much better for the environment, the Vales say.
Cats have an eco-footprint of about 0.15 hectares, slightly less than driving a Volkswagen Golf for a year, while two hamsters equates to a plasma television and even the humble goldfish burns energy equivalent to two mobile telephones.
But Reha Huttin, president of France's 30 Million Friends animal rights foundation says the human impact of eliminating pets would be equally devastating.
"Pets are anti-depressants, they help us cope with stress, they are good for the elderly," Huttin told AFP.
"Everyone should work out their own environmental impact. I should be allowed to say that I walk instead of using my car and that I don't eat meat, so why shouldn't I be allowed to have a little cat to alleviate my loneliness?"
Sylvie Comont, proud owner of seven cats and two dogs -- the environmental equivalent of a small fleet of cars -- says defiantly, "Our animals give us so much that I don't feel like a polluter at all.
"I think the love we have for our animals and what they contribute to our lives outweighs the environmental considerations.
"I don't want a life without animals," she told AFP.
And pets' environmental impact is not limited to their carbon footprint, as cats and dogs devastate wildlife, spread disease and pollute waterways, the Vales say.
With a total 7.7 million cats in Britain, more than 188 million wild animals are hunted, killed and eaten by feline predators per year, or an average 25 birds, mammals and frogs per cat, according to figures in the New Scientist.
Likewise, dogs decrease biodiversity in areas they are walked, while their faeces cause high bacterial levels in rivers and streams, making the water unsafe to drink, starving waterways of oxygen and killing aquatic life.
And cat poo can be even more toxic than doggy doo -- owners who flush their litter down the toilet ultimately infect sea otters and other animals with toxoplasma gondii, which causes a killer brain disease.
But despite the apocalyptic visions of domesticated animals' environmental impact, solutions exist, including reducing pets' protein-rich meat intake.
"If pussy is scoffing 'Fancy Feast' -- or some other food made from choice cuts of meat -- then the relative impact is likely to be high," said Robert Vale.
"If, on the other hand, the cat is fed on fish heads and other leftovers from the fishmonger, the impact will be lower."
Other potential positive steps include avoiding walking your dog in wildlife-rich areas and keeping your cat indoors at night when it has a particular thirst for other, smaller animals' blood.
As with buying a car, humans are also encouraged to take the environmental impact of their future possession/companion into account.
But the best way of compensating for that paw or clawprint is to make sure your animal is dual purpose, the Vales urge. Get a hen, which offsets its impact by laying edible eggs, or a rabbit, prepared to make the ultimate environmental sacrifice by ending up on the dinner table.
"Rabbits are good, provided you eat them," said Robert Vale."
Polluting pets: the devastating impact of man's best friend
by Isabelle Toussaint and Jurgen Hecker Isabelle Toussaint And Jurgen Hecker – Sun Dec 20, 3:23 pm ET
"PARIS (AFP) – Man's best friend could be one of the environment's worst enemies, according to a new study which says the carbon pawprint of a pet dog is more than double that of a gas-guzzling sports utility vehicle.
But the revelation in the book "Time to Eat the Dog: The Real Guide to Sustainable Living" by New Zealanders Robert and Brenda Vale has angered pet owners who feel they are being singled out as troublemakers.
The Vales, specialists in sustainable living at Victoria University of Wellington, analysed popular brands of pet food and calculated that a medium-sized dog eats around 164 kilos (360 pounds) of meat and 95 kilos of cereal a year.
Combine the land required to generate its food and a "medium" sized dog has an annual footprint of 0.84 hectares (2.07 acres) -- around twice the 0.41 hectares required by a 4x4 driving 10,000 kilometres (6,200 miles) a year, including energy to build the car.
To confirm the results, the New Scientist magazine asked John Barrett at the Stockholm Environment Institute in York, Britain, to calculate eco-pawprints based on his own data. The results were essentially the same.
"Owning a dog really is quite an extravagance, mainly because of the carbon footprint of meat," Barrett said.
Other animals aren't much better for the environment, the Vales say.
Cats have an eco-footprint of about 0.15 hectares, slightly less than driving a Volkswagen Golf for a year, while two hamsters equates to a plasma television and even the humble goldfish burns energy equivalent to two mobile telephones.
But Reha Huttin, president of France's 30 Million Friends animal rights foundation says the human impact of eliminating pets would be equally devastating.
"Pets are anti-depressants, they help us cope with stress, they are good for the elderly," Huttin told AFP.
"Everyone should work out their own environmental impact. I should be allowed to say that I walk instead of using my car and that I don't eat meat, so why shouldn't I be allowed to have a little cat to alleviate my loneliness?"
Sylvie Comont, proud owner of seven cats and two dogs -- the environmental equivalent of a small fleet of cars -- says defiantly, "Our animals give us so much that I don't feel like a polluter at all.
"I think the love we have for our animals and what they contribute to our lives outweighs the environmental considerations.
"I don't want a life without animals," she told AFP.
And pets' environmental impact is not limited to their carbon footprint, as cats and dogs devastate wildlife, spread disease and pollute waterways, the Vales say.
With a total 7.7 million cats in Britain, more than 188 million wild animals are hunted, killed and eaten by feline predators per year, or an average 25 birds, mammals and frogs per cat, according to figures in the New Scientist.
Likewise, dogs decrease biodiversity in areas they are walked, while their faeces cause high bacterial levels in rivers and streams, making the water unsafe to drink, starving waterways of oxygen and killing aquatic life.
And cat poo can be even more toxic than doggy doo -- owners who flush their litter down the toilet ultimately infect sea otters and other animals with toxoplasma gondii, which causes a killer brain disease.
But despite the apocalyptic visions of domesticated animals' environmental impact, solutions exist, including reducing pets' protein-rich meat intake.
"If pussy is scoffing 'Fancy Feast' -- or some other food made from choice cuts of meat -- then the relative impact is likely to be high," said Robert Vale.
"If, on the other hand, the cat is fed on fish heads and other leftovers from the fishmonger, the impact will be lower."
Other potential positive steps include avoiding walking your dog in wildlife-rich areas and keeping your cat indoors at night when it has a particular thirst for other, smaller animals' blood.
As with buying a car, humans are also encouraged to take the environmental impact of their future possession/companion into account.
But the best way of compensating for that paw or clawprint is to make sure your animal is dual purpose, the Vales urge. Get a hen, which offsets its impact by laying edible eggs, or a rabbit, prepared to make the ultimate environmental sacrifice by ending up on the dinner table.
"Rabbits are good, provided you eat them," said Robert Vale."
Dec 18, 2009
Celeste's own web page
Take a little peek! It's still under construction, but Celeste's working on it!
About Kaiser...
I wrote to Donna, the project manager of Building New Hope in Nicaragua, About Kaiser's funds, and what to do to specify that a donation is only for Kaiser,and she wrote me back:
“To answer your question about donating to Kaiser, Kathleen, this can be done by going to our website....www.buildingnewhope.org...and using PayPal or by sending a check to Building New hHope. Either way, just write in that it's for Kaiser. And ony Kaiser will get it. We are very good about this...donations go where they are intended. Always.
Thanks so much for your moral support and excellent info about your Husky!
Donna”
And then I asked for an update on Kaiser. And here it is:
“Sadly, the govt agency that must sign off on allowing animals to leave the country will not do this for Kaiser. He's too sick. He's condemned to this place...to the limited knowledge and resources to make him the beautiful dog that he was just months ago.
But today we may have made a little breakthrough. We shaved off all of his thick fur (he lost much of it to his disase, whatever it is) and we soaked him in chlorohexine, an antiseptic shampoo that is also soothing. We're hoping that this will stop whatever is eating his skin, and if we're lucky, cure it. We have plied this poor dog with all kinds of drug combos and applied all kinds of lotions and creams. We are working without a net. There is no lab available that could exam a biopsy....even a skin scraping. It is not a good situation.
But Kaiser has people here who love him and will not give up on him. Thank you for your concern. We'll keep you posted, Kathleen.
Donna
“To answer your question about donating to Kaiser, Kathleen, this can be done by going to our website....www.buildingnewhope.org...and using PayPal or by sending a check to Building New hHope. Either way, just write in that it's for Kaiser. And ony Kaiser will get it. We are very good about this...donations go where they are intended. Always.
Thanks so much for your moral support and excellent info about your Husky!
Donna”
And then I asked for an update on Kaiser. And here it is:
“Sadly, the govt agency that must sign off on allowing animals to leave the country will not do this for Kaiser. He's too sick. He's condemned to this place...to the limited knowledge and resources to make him the beautiful dog that he was just months ago.
But today we may have made a little breakthrough. We shaved off all of his thick fur (he lost much of it to his disase, whatever it is) and we soaked him in chlorohexine, an antiseptic shampoo that is also soothing. We're hoping that this will stop whatever is eating his skin, and if we're lucky, cure it. We have plied this poor dog with all kinds of drug combos and applied all kinds of lotions and creams. We are working without a net. There is no lab available that could exam a biopsy....even a skin scraping. It is not a good situation.
But Kaiser has people here who love him and will not give up on him. Thank you for your concern. We'll keep you posted, Kathleen.
Donna
Dec 16, 2009
Please Help Kaiser
This is Kaiser, a Siberian Husky in Nicaragua, Central America, where Donna Incitti Tabor is trying to treat him for an inexplicable skin disease. Whatever it is, it's taking him down little by little every day. The thought of euthanisizing this sweet and beautiful animal is painful, but the people at the kennel in Casa Lupita realize that it soon could be their only humane option for a dog that they all have come to love..
Kaiser arrived through less than pleasant circumstances. Apparently he was purchased by a young man who wanted a tough-looking dog, and Kaiser fit the bill. But things changed when the thick fur on his legs and underside of Kaiser's body fell out. Then as his bare skin became infected and inflamed, he stopped being a pet and became a liability, and no medical care or attention was given to him.
If there's a positive aspect to this pathetic situation, Kaiser's owner is a neighbor of Jasson Fuguera, a newly-graduated veterinarian who volunteers at the Casa Lupita animal clinic.
When one of Kaiser's family members threatened to kill him if he couldn't be cured, Jasson brought him to Casa Lupita to care for him every day and to keep him safe from a disappointed family. Different treatments and remedies are tested on Kaiser, But it's all second-guessing since no one can say exactly what the dog's illness is.
They are about to include a more experienced veterinarian in Managua in a treament plan. Dr. Diaz Fonseca feels this may be the same skin affliction present in another dog that he once treated successfully. He is willing to try to save Kaiser.
Though Dr. Diaz is giving a most generous discount for treatment, it will be a long process.... not days or weeks, but months. It will include a skin biopsy, lab work, expensive medication, and daily bathing. And it will eventually mean daily trips from Granada to Managua with Kaiser.
They are now putting out the word to all of you fantastic readers and animal lovers, who may be able to help save Kaiser. He is already fortunate to have reached the heart of Valarie Findlay, a Canadian who has made a start-up donation that will allow treatment to begin. She also intends to adopt Kaiser and have him flown to Canada to join her and her family of four rescue dogs. But first, he must be substantially cured to pass the muster at customs. The full treatment will require the help of many...not just Valarie.
The following is a photo of Kaiser as he was a few days ago. Please help change this to a happy, healthy dog who can one day romp freely in a Canadian snowfall. If at all possible, please donate to Building New Hope through PayPal or by mailing a check to our Pittsburgh office at:
BUILDING NEW HOPE
106 Overton Lane
Pittsburgh, PA 15217
Dec 13, 2009
Merry Christmas to me!
In anticipation of the coming hot, snowless, and mostly un-celebrated Christmas holiday, I treated myself to a couple of drug-and-alcohol free indulgences for the holidays with this:
and this:
The Gypsy batts are still kicking my behind, too. This is almost 500 yards of fingering weight Gypsy, with about 2 more ounces to go...
I think I'll have to find a nice project to make with it, but CRAP! I think I must be the slowest spindler in the world. Maybe I'll be done with Gyspy by the New Year...
and this:
The Gypsy batts are still kicking my behind, too. This is almost 500 yards of fingering weight Gypsy, with about 2 more ounces to go...
I think I'll have to find a nice project to make with it, but CRAP! I think I must be the slowest spindler in the world. Maybe I'll be done with Gyspy by the New Year...
Dec 9, 2009
Navajo plying video
I've always wondered about navajo plying. I've heard about it, read about it, and wondered about it, but never have seen anyone actually do it. I knew the principles but not the mechanics. Here, finally, is a pretty clear illustration of nevajo plying on a spinning wheel:
Since I don't have my wheel with me, I'll have to fiddle around with a spindle to see what I can figure out. I watched other videos that show navajo plying with a drop spindle, and all of them seemed very tedious and labor intensive. So much stopping the spindle, sticking it in an armpit, hooking it and putting the strand around the shaft...in short, nothing easy or smooth about it. If it's really that difficult, I think I'll just stick to my regular plying technique and bypass the navajo method.
Since I don't have my wheel with me, I'll have to fiddle around with a spindle to see what I can figure out. I watched other videos that show navajo plying with a drop spindle, and all of them seemed very tedious and labor intensive. So much stopping the spindle, sticking it in an armpit, hooking it and putting the strand around the shaft...in short, nothing easy or smooth about it. If it's really that difficult, I think I'll just stick to my regular plying technique and bypass the navajo method.
Dec 8, 2009
Reading list for 2010
Thinking ahead, and dreaming about going back to the land of less traffic, accessable libraries and books, open spaces and places to explore with Celeste and O, I am building my "Must Read" list for 2010:
1. The Sable Queen(From the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques)
2. Doomwyte (From the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques)
3. All the Redwall series. (I bought some for my daughter and neices, who seemed to enjoy them.)
4. Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood
5. The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown
6. Pirate Latitudes, by Michael Crichton
7. Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel
8. The Sookie Stackhouse Series, by Charlaine Harris
9. Witch And Wizard, by James Patterson and Gabrielle Charbonnet
10. New York, by Edward Rutherford
That's it, so far. I'll be adding to the list after the first of the year, I'm sure. What's on your list?
1. The Sable Queen(From the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques)
2. Doomwyte (From the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques)
3. All the Redwall series. (I bought some for my daughter and neices, who seemed to enjoy them.)
4. Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood
5. The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown
6. Pirate Latitudes, by Michael Crichton
7. Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel
8. The Sookie Stackhouse Series, by Charlaine Harris
9. Witch And Wizard, by James Patterson and Gabrielle Charbonnet
10. New York, by Edward Rutherford
That's it, so far. I'll be adding to the list after the first of the year, I'm sure. What's on your list?
Dec 2, 2009
A very pleasant surprise
This week has been very good for me so far. First, I have 4 really happy, enthusiastic classes to teach! The language levels range from beginner to higher intermediate, but - maybe because it's close to Christmas, I don't know - they are all great, so far. I can walk into class and see smiles on faces, ready to participate and seemingly happy to be there. Amazing! It could be that I finally have managed to put together interesting classes, or maybe these are just exceptional students. Whatever it is, I hope it continues!
Second, I've been visited right here on this blog by none other than Randolph, the super sleuth Labrador Retriever of the canine mystery, A Dog About Town. What a wonderful surprise to read his politely Labradorian comment, and receive a subsequent e-mail from him! Wow! I read A Dog About Town a couple of years ago. It was a fun and fast-paced read, and (I am happy to say) was one that I could pass on to my nieces without getting the hairy eyeball from their mother.
If you are in the mood for a short, fun read, check out A Dog About Town, written by J. F. Englert, and Randolph. I think you'll like it!
Second, I've been visited right here on this blog by none other than Randolph, the super sleuth Labrador Retriever of the canine mystery, A Dog About Town. What a wonderful surprise to read his politely Labradorian comment, and receive a subsequent e-mail from him! Wow! I read A Dog About Town a couple of years ago. It was a fun and fast-paced read, and (I am happy to say) was one that I could pass on to my nieces without getting the hairy eyeball from their mother.
If you are in the mood for a short, fun read, check out A Dog About Town, written by J. F. Englert, and Randolph. I think you'll like it!
Nov 30, 2009
A rose is a rose...
I put on my favorite perfume today, before I went to work - Anais Anais. It smells of roses, but not like my grandmother's rose scent. This is a decidedly different rose. All the same, after riding through the city and exiting the bus between others, I arrived at work smelling like what I was - an exhausted rose. Make that vehicle exhaust. My Anais Anais is still with me, but so is a little exhaust. Hmm. It's almost impossible to escape the exhaust and exhaustion in this city. One seems to go hand in hand with the other.
I've been spinning, also. I've finished 4 ounces of Gypsy (superwash merino/sari silk/sparkles) and it's looking pretty good! I have about 400 yards of fingering weight, and still have another 4 ounces to go. It's moving pretty fast, and I should be finished plying the last of the latest spindle-full tomorrow. I managed to spill a glug of Coke on one spindle, so the soaking will be a welcome part of the processing and finishing. Sheesh! How clutzy can I be???
(Note to self: Coke is off-limits while using the computer AND while spindling.)
Celeste has sensed a change in attitude towards her since she's almost finished shedding her winter duds. She's now clean and pretty, and was actually invited to take a nap on the bed with O this weekend. It helped her little prima donna attitude bounce back, and when she had to vacate the bed so I could lie down, she made a face at me and retired to her own plushy-but-hairy bed.
I spent Thanksgiving in a funk for a couple of reasons. One - I had to work. Two - nobody celebrates Thankgiving here, so that was kind of bumsville for me. Three - Christmas will most likely be the same for me. Christmas here is so commercial it's ridiculous. You thought it was bad in the US, didn't you? Well, multiply that by 5 and add all your friends and relatives, godchildren, neighbors, and every Tom, Dick, & Harry who gets on the bus begging, and you've got the makings of a depressing holiday. And there's not even the remotest chance of a white Christmas here. Hmmmm....
On Friday, I got on the bus, and a young man followed me on. He gave us God's blessings, and began to talk about how he had just 5 hours earlier been released from prison. In order to prevent him from returning to his criminal ways, everyone on the bus was to pay him for his performance...and he took out a long handled tablespoon, which he pushed up his nose. I guess that trick is too common here in Lima, because he left the bus without much more than 50 centimos. He laid a curse on us all before he left. Luckily we all know Moises, from the previous post, who can break the curse and we'll all come out smelling like roses...exhausted roses, but roses all the same.
I've been spinning, also. I've finished 4 ounces of Gypsy (superwash merino/sari silk/sparkles) and it's looking pretty good! I have about 400 yards of fingering weight, and still have another 4 ounces to go. It's moving pretty fast, and I should be finished plying the last of the latest spindle-full tomorrow. I managed to spill a glug of Coke on one spindle, so the soaking will be a welcome part of the processing and finishing. Sheesh! How clutzy can I be???
(Note to self: Coke is off-limits while using the computer AND while spindling.)
Celeste has sensed a change in attitude towards her since she's almost finished shedding her winter duds. She's now clean and pretty, and was actually invited to take a nap on the bed with O this weekend. It helped her little prima donna attitude bounce back, and when she had to vacate the bed so I could lie down, she made a face at me and retired to her own plushy-but-hairy bed.
I spent Thanksgiving in a funk for a couple of reasons. One - I had to work. Two - nobody celebrates Thankgiving here, so that was kind of bumsville for me. Three - Christmas will most likely be the same for me. Christmas here is so commercial it's ridiculous. You thought it was bad in the US, didn't you? Well, multiply that by 5 and add all your friends and relatives, godchildren, neighbors, and every Tom, Dick, & Harry who gets on the bus begging, and you've got the makings of a depressing holiday. And there's not even the remotest chance of a white Christmas here. Hmmmm....
On Friday, I got on the bus, and a young man followed me on. He gave us God's blessings, and began to talk about how he had just 5 hours earlier been released from prison. In order to prevent him from returning to his criminal ways, everyone on the bus was to pay him for his performance...and he took out a long handled tablespoon, which he pushed up his nose. I guess that trick is too common here in Lima, because he left the bus without much more than 50 centimos. He laid a curse on us all before he left. Luckily we all know Moises, from the previous post, who can break the curse and we'll all come out smelling like roses...exhausted roses, but roses all the same.
Nov 22, 2009
..and as if that weren't enough...
Folowing up on my last post about curanderos, there's this.
According to the article, there are 3 types of curanderos. Reading the definitions, it would appear that most of the people practicing around where I live are of the second type, those who are taught their skill, e.i. "These usually read coca leaves, and perform other rituals such as “pasar cuy” and “pasar huevo,” where the guinea pig, or egg, is gently rubbed over the person’s body in order to remove negative energy. The guinea pig is then killed, or the egg cracked open, to see what illness the person was suffering from. There are many of these all over Peru, and while some practice their trade well, others don’t."
I went back to Moisés, who's business card appears in the first photo of my last post. He claims to practice black magic, so I asked him what exactly that meant. He let me know that, for a modest fee, he will cast a spell on someone for the client. The spell usually involves causing some kind of illness to the target. This spell is performed there in his booth at the feria, then a "spirit helper", one of his messengers, delivers the notice of the spell casting to both the client and the target. Depending upon the strength of the beliefs of the target and the client, one will feel satisfied that vengence has been dealt, and the other may fall into the sick bed until payment has been made to another curandero to undo the spell and stop the illness.
This kind of thing seems to go against the stuff I've heard in talking to the witches in the US, but I don't know anyone who actually practices black magic, except now for Moisés.
And then there's this, which almost put me off eating at Doña Maria's AnticucharÃa a few blocks away. Hmm...not my idea of the best type of seasoning.
It seems like a lot of people in Lima believe in brujerÃa, or there wouldn't be a curandero on every street corner. But belief in black magic and voodoo is strongest in the provinces of the north and the jungle. O told me that his mother is big believer in voodoo and the black arts, and she is scared to death of it. When she was younger, she heard through the grapevine that her cousin, who was called a witch by people in her neighborhood, had put a spell on her. O's mother was sick with headaches, vomiting, and general anxiety and weakness for weeks, until her husband finally called another witch doctor to break the spell by rubbing her forehead with a black guinea pig, then killing it and burning the entrails. Within a few hours she had completely recovered. Another Hmmmm...
What do YOU think?
According to the article, there are 3 types of curanderos. Reading the definitions, it would appear that most of the people practicing around where I live are of the second type, those who are taught their skill, e.i. "These usually read coca leaves, and perform other rituals such as “pasar cuy” and “pasar huevo,” where the guinea pig, or egg, is gently rubbed over the person’s body in order to remove negative energy. The guinea pig is then killed, or the egg cracked open, to see what illness the person was suffering from. There are many of these all over Peru, and while some practice their trade well, others don’t."
I went back to Moisés, who's business card appears in the first photo of my last post. He claims to practice black magic, so I asked him what exactly that meant. He let me know that, for a modest fee, he will cast a spell on someone for the client. The spell usually involves causing some kind of illness to the target. This spell is performed there in his booth at the feria, then a "spirit helper", one of his messengers, delivers the notice of the spell casting to both the client and the target. Depending upon the strength of the beliefs of the target and the client, one will feel satisfied that vengence has been dealt, and the other may fall into the sick bed until payment has been made to another curandero to undo the spell and stop the illness.
This kind of thing seems to go against the stuff I've heard in talking to the witches in the US, but I don't know anyone who actually practices black magic, except now for Moisés.
And then there's this, which almost put me off eating at Doña Maria's AnticucharÃa a few blocks away. Hmm...not my idea of the best type of seasoning.
It seems like a lot of people in Lima believe in brujerÃa, or there wouldn't be a curandero on every street corner. But belief in black magic and voodoo is strongest in the provinces of the north and the jungle. O told me that his mother is big believer in voodoo and the black arts, and she is scared to death of it. When she was younger, she heard through the grapevine that her cousin, who was called a witch by people in her neighborhood, had put a spell on her. O's mother was sick with headaches, vomiting, and general anxiety and weakness for weeks, until her husband finally called another witch doctor to break the spell by rubbing her forehead with a black guinea pig, then killing it and burning the entrails. Within a few hours she had completely recovered. Another Hmmmm...
What do YOU think?
Nov 19, 2009
Curandero...healer or quack?
(click to enlarge)Several years ago, I got into Lynn V. Andrews's books (the Medicine Woman series.) I still enjoy them, but the author claims that all these stories are true. Maybe they are, amazing as they seem, but as I've been traveling around Latin America lately, I've come across some of the kinds of people she mentions in her books. Not all of them seem to be as genuine as she claims.
"Curandero" is one of the terms she uses often in her stories. In Spanish, the definition of curandero" is healer or quack. Quack is further clarified with the phrase false doctor. And you know what? There are many curanderos and curanderas who practice their trade right around where I live. In the downtown area, curanderos are a dime a dozen. They advertise a number of practices that make me go HMMMMM... For example:
(Click to enlarge)"Read your luck with coca leaves, playing cards, plumb bob (I think this must be like a pendulum), candle, and magnet...cure fear, diagnosis of illnesses with black guinea pig, and cure unknown diseases. All is not lost. Find the solution to your problems right here."
You can see some of the things that are used if you enlarge the photo.
(click to biggify)
Here's another shot of a curandera's booth. She wouldn't let me photograph her, but the booth itself was fine. La Señora Agusta cures fear with an egg, detects disease with a guinea pig, cleans away the bad vibes, and makes payment to the Sacred earth on your behalf for success in work, health, money, and love. And she has lots of goodies for sale there in her booth for do-it-yourselfers.
Nov 16, 2009
Talk to the Hand, Baby
Celeste did a very doggish thing yesterday. O took her to the park to run, and she ran right into some really disgusting, stinky, scummy stuff that just thrilled the living daylights out of her. So she did what every self-respecting dog would do.
She rolled in it, from head to tail. I believe it is called "sidewalk paté" Today, she doesn't understand why she can't just up to kiss me, why she doesn't get invited to play, why she isn't welcomed onto my lap. Whenever she comes near, she gets the "talk to the hand, baby" gesture. How well she knows it. About every time she shed her coat, she gets to "talk to the hand."
Please, Celeste, don't come close. Especially not under the desk while I'm using the computer. The aroma of your perfume is overpowering and makes me gag. Especially not near the bed, where I might accidentally roll over and my nose might find the spot you rubbed on. Especially NOT IN MY CAR SEAT, so I don't have to wear your dog cologne to work.
Celeste, sweet Celeste, I promise that before I get my shower, you'll get yours. In the meantime...Talk to the hand, baby.
She rolled in it, from head to tail. I believe it is called "sidewalk paté" Today, she doesn't understand why she can't just up to kiss me, why she doesn't get invited to play, why she isn't welcomed onto my lap. Whenever she comes near, she gets the "talk to the hand, baby" gesture. How well she knows it. About every time she shed her coat, she gets to "talk to the hand."
Please, Celeste, don't come close. Especially not under the desk while I'm using the computer. The aroma of your perfume is overpowering and makes me gag. Especially not near the bed, where I might accidentally roll over and my nose might find the spot you rubbed on. Especially NOT IN MY CAR SEAT, so I don't have to wear your dog cologne to work.
Celeste, sweet Celeste, I promise that before I get my shower, you'll get yours. In the meantime...Talk to the hand, baby.
Nov 15, 2009
Rambling on Sunday Afternoon
Holy cow! It's been a while since I posted...I didn't realize so much time had passed. I've been spinning on 8 ounces of Farm Witch's beautiful fiber, Gypsy - a gorgeous plum, turquoise, gold, and blue combination, with sparkles and sari silk strands carded in. I've got almost 4 ounces spun now, with half of that plied and skeined. Where are the pictures you ask? Pictures are not taken because O has the camera stashed in his backpack somewhere. It makes me go GRRRrrr when I can't grab the camera and snap some photos of my work, but these days, it's because he's snapping photos of HIS work. Fair is fair, I suppose, so I can't get too growly about it.
I've been reading a little bit about this phenomenon called NaNoWriMo, or some such thing...National Novel Writing Month? It's everywhere! Are that many people really trying their hand at writing a novel? Holy crap! Where do they find their inspiration? One such writer is Michelle, over at The Spiral Path. Phenomenal! Check out her blog! Writing so many words every day would become a serious CHORE for me, unless I was incredibly inspired. I congratulate each one of the writers, because even though the month is only half over, most of them are still writing! I would have thrown my pen down a week ago, I'm afraid. My inspiration comes in spurts - and very SPARCE spurts at that. Go novel writers! I hope you get published!
I've been reading a little bit about this phenomenon called NaNoWriMo, or some such thing...National Novel Writing Month? It's everywhere! Are that many people really trying their hand at writing a novel? Holy crap! Where do they find their inspiration? One such writer is Michelle, over at The Spiral Path. Phenomenal! Check out her blog! Writing so many words every day would become a serious CHORE for me, unless I was incredibly inspired. I congratulate each one of the writers, because even though the month is only half over, most of them are still writing! I would have thrown my pen down a week ago, I'm afraid. My inspiration comes in spurts - and very SPARCE spurts at that. Go novel writers! I hope you get published!
Nov 3, 2009
An Offering to the House Goddess
Celeste was feeling kind of bad while I was on vacation. She got a boo-boo from playing with some street dogs. The vet said there was fungus amung us (heh, couldn't resist...) so he gave her a funky new 'do and a paint job.
but now she's all better, and her 'do isn't as funky-looking as before.
The dark spot next to her ear is all that's left of her owie.
To make sure that she doesn't get another boo-boo in the future,
Celeste makes regular offerings of her very own dog food to the house goddess. Or maybe these are bread crumbs left on the path to the kitchen, so nobody gets lost on the way to the fridge.
but now she's all better, and her 'do isn't as funky-looking as before.
The dark spot next to her ear is all that's left of her owie.
To make sure that she doesn't get another boo-boo in the future,
Celeste makes regular offerings of her very own dog food to the house goddess. Or maybe these are bread crumbs left on the path to the kitchen, so nobody gets lost on the way to the fridge.
Nov 1, 2009
The plan is coming together...slowly.
A week's gone by and I still have this head cold. It's in it's final phase, but what a pain in the rear - ...err... - head it's been. Classes have started once again and I have 6 full days of classes, from the very beginning in Basic 1 to Intermediate 3. Almost all of my students this time seem to be good ones. There are a few that will make me tired, but most of them seem to be enthusiastic and ready to participate and learn. At least for now.
I've been spinning, yes, and finally finished the Ginger & Plum fiber, plus two skeinlettes of complimenting orange yarn and purple yarn. Just enough of each to do toes and heels in socks, or a border of mostly solid color. So, I'm happy with that. I also started another set of batts in Enchanted Knoll Farm's "Gypsy". This yarn will be more along the worsted weight (I hope), but I have no real project in mind for it right now. I thought I did when I started spinning, but I've already got one spindle filled and all my great ideas have evaporated. Now, I guess I'll just see what it wants to become.
The most exciting news for me is that we've got a buyer for the apartment next spring. He's already made his offer, and we've accepted it. He'll give us our asking price and make a substantial down payment, then take over the remaining payments. He'll take possession of the apartment in May next year, so that will give me time to send things home to the farm, and repaint, and replace things as needed. Yeay! Maybe by that time, I'll have all of Celeste's fuzz trapped and under control. But, anyway, things do seem to be going according to plan.
O is off to see about a scholarship for a post grad program at the University of Northern Colorado - possibly. You never really know about things down here in Peru. They seem to go great guns, and then somebody stops for a beer, and things go off track for a few...well, ummm...months. We'll see how it all goes. Here's O (the tallest tree in this little orchard) and his compañeros, having left the track already, chowing down. Beer to come.
I've been spinning, yes, and finally finished the Ginger & Plum fiber, plus two skeinlettes of complimenting orange yarn and purple yarn. Just enough of each to do toes and heels in socks, or a border of mostly solid color. So, I'm happy with that. I also started another set of batts in Enchanted Knoll Farm's "Gypsy". This yarn will be more along the worsted weight (I hope), but I have no real project in mind for it right now. I thought I did when I started spinning, but I've already got one spindle filled and all my great ideas have evaporated. Now, I guess I'll just see what it wants to become.
The most exciting news for me is that we've got a buyer for the apartment next spring. He's already made his offer, and we've accepted it. He'll give us our asking price and make a substantial down payment, then take over the remaining payments. He'll take possession of the apartment in May next year, so that will give me time to send things home to the farm, and repaint, and replace things as needed. Yeay! Maybe by that time, I'll have all of Celeste's fuzz trapped and under control. But, anyway, things do seem to be going according to plan.
O is off to see about a scholarship for a post grad program at the University of Northern Colorado - possibly. You never really know about things down here in Peru. They seem to go great guns, and then somebody stops for a beer, and things go off track for a few...well, ummm...months. We'll see how it all goes. Here's O (the tallest tree in this little orchard) and his compañeros, having left the track already, chowing down. Beer to come.
Oct 22, 2009
The Wild One-Oh-Four
A ride to work on the city bus is always a unique experience, but a ride on the 104 is a whole different ball game. I usually ride the Linea 48, a safe and more comfortable bus...but the 48 stops for 15 seconds and waits for no latecomer. So yesterday, I ended up taking the 104.
The 104 runs older buses; usually old Bluebird school buses that may or may not have the seats nailed down, rattle like mad, and the drivers seem to be convinced that with open windows and tremendous speed, even the oldest heavily-loaded vehicle might be coaxed into sprouting wings. There are times when not only the passengers and seat bottoms are launched from their usual places inside the bus, but the bus may also go airborne at various times of the day.
There are no shock absorbers on these buses and, I think because of that, you can always tell when the 104 is approaching from the racket of the rattling body, doors and windows. Step aboard and let your hair down...it'll be standing on end in just a few moments! Don't forget to get a good grip on something before take-off.
Linea 48 attracts a higher paid clientele, and due to that, it also attracts salespeople and performers of a higher caliber...or at least with higher expectations. The 48 often has traveling musicians who perform and sell their cds on the bus. The salespeople don't limit themselves to selling candies - they have 30 cent pens, sewing kits, and books. The real talent - the guys who push the screwdrivers up their noses - also finds itself on board the Linea 48.
ON the other hand, the 104 gets the candy sellers, the kids who sing through their mom's comb and a Kleenex tissue, the guy who can't play a guitar so he beats out a rhythm on a seat back with a coin or his wedding ring while singing off key, and the woman who rented her neighbor's baby to beg for money. The good thing is that they don't stay long - it's very hard for an off-key singer to be heard over the rattle of the 104 body panels, no matter how hard he pounds on the seat or the door frame. And women carrying rented babies have a hard time staying upright while the bus is airborne. So usually the beggars and the performers jump on, take a quick turn up and down the aisle, and jump back off. Knitting on board is almost impossible because of the bone-jarring, stitch scattering ride, but most people don't notice. They're usually totally occupied with hanging onto the OMG bars in front of them or over head.
This morning, while on my way home after my morning class, a man got on the bus to beg for money. As he started his speech, the driver said, "Hazlo en breve, amigo. No tendres mucho tiempo de hablar." (Make it brief, buddy. You won't have much time to talk.) No sooner did he get those words out of his mouth, when the bus lurched forward and we launched, rattling off down Abancay Avenue. The beggar seemed to be putting a lot of effort into his speech, but nobody could hear a word he said. Once we were airborne, he had no choice but to cut it short and get off at the nearest landing pad...errr...bus stop.
Small blessings in disguise.
The 104 runs older buses; usually old Bluebird school buses that may or may not have the seats nailed down, rattle like mad, and the drivers seem to be convinced that with open windows and tremendous speed, even the oldest heavily-loaded vehicle might be coaxed into sprouting wings. There are times when not only the passengers and seat bottoms are launched from their usual places inside the bus, but the bus may also go airborne at various times of the day.
There are no shock absorbers on these buses and, I think because of that, you can always tell when the 104 is approaching from the racket of the rattling body, doors and windows. Step aboard and let your hair down...it'll be standing on end in just a few moments! Don't forget to get a good grip on something before take-off.
Linea 48 attracts a higher paid clientele, and due to that, it also attracts salespeople and performers of a higher caliber...or at least with higher expectations. The 48 often has traveling musicians who perform and sell their cds on the bus. The salespeople don't limit themselves to selling candies - they have 30 cent pens, sewing kits, and books. The real talent - the guys who push the screwdrivers up their noses - also finds itself on board the Linea 48.
ON the other hand, the 104 gets the candy sellers, the kids who sing through their mom's comb and a Kleenex tissue, the guy who can't play a guitar so he beats out a rhythm on a seat back with a coin or his wedding ring while singing off key, and the woman who rented her neighbor's baby to beg for money. The good thing is that they don't stay long - it's very hard for an off-key singer to be heard over the rattle of the 104 body panels, no matter how hard he pounds on the seat or the door frame. And women carrying rented babies have a hard time staying upright while the bus is airborne. So usually the beggars and the performers jump on, take a quick turn up and down the aisle, and jump back off. Knitting on board is almost impossible because of the bone-jarring, stitch scattering ride, but most people don't notice. They're usually totally occupied with hanging onto the OMG bars in front of them or over head.
This morning, while on my way home after my morning class, a man got on the bus to beg for money. As he started his speech, the driver said, "Hazlo en breve, amigo. No tendres mucho tiempo de hablar." (Make it brief, buddy. You won't have much time to talk.) No sooner did he get those words out of his mouth, when the bus lurched forward and we launched, rattling off down Abancay Avenue. The beggar seemed to be putting a lot of effort into his speech, but nobody could hear a word he said. Once we were airborne, he had no choice but to cut it short and get off at the nearest landing pad...errr...bus stop.
Small blessings in disguise.
Oct 18, 2009
The Men's Room
Public bathrooms here in Peru are not desirable places. Practically all of them reek of bodily waste. It's expected to be so here, but honestly, it disgusts me. I assumed (erroneously) that it was from the fact that the Peruvian sewer system is not set up to handle toilet paper, so the used paper is dropped into a trash can next to the toilet. Most of the time, it is dropped into the trash can...sometimes the aim is bad, and it lands on the floor...also a disgusting fact about Peruvian public bathrooms.
So when my own bathroom began to reek of urine, I freaked out. I'm not one of those people who just assume that the bathroom will stink no matter what. And after a little investigation and sniffing things out (literally) I discovered that not everyone has the same bathroom habits and expectations that I do - and that someone is a man that lives in this apartment. I'll leave it to you to figure out what man I'm talking about, but his first initial is O. And worse, after his friends and family members come over, the bathroom absolutely smells like a ketchpen after branding.
We've had several discussions about the choice of taking aim at the toilet, and actually having a good sit-down, and each time, he assured me that it wasn't HIM who missed the toilet. Well, guess what - there are only two of us living in this apartment, and I don't depend on my ability to make a good shot at the toilet. We talked about it today, again, and no headway was made. I just cleaned it at 11 am, and it already smells like somebody missed and shot the floor instead. Which he did. The fact is that "real" men are expectd to take aim on foot, and not shoot from close-up.
He has a need to be a "real" man. Hmm...smells like the men's room in here.
So when my own bathroom began to reek of urine, I freaked out. I'm not one of those people who just assume that the bathroom will stink no matter what. And after a little investigation and sniffing things out (literally) I discovered that not everyone has the same bathroom habits and expectations that I do - and that someone is a man that lives in this apartment. I'll leave it to you to figure out what man I'm talking about, but his first initial is O. And worse, after his friends and family members come over, the bathroom absolutely smells like a ketchpen after branding.
We've had several discussions about the choice of taking aim at the toilet, and actually having a good sit-down, and each time, he assured me that it wasn't HIM who missed the toilet. Well, guess what - there are only two of us living in this apartment, and I don't depend on my ability to make a good shot at the toilet. We talked about it today, again, and no headway was made. I just cleaned it at 11 am, and it already smells like somebody missed and shot the floor instead. Which he did. The fact is that "real" men are expectd to take aim on foot, and not shoot from close-up.
He has a need to be a "real" man. Hmm...smells like the men's room in here.
of eye glasses and fiber...
The inevitable happened yesterday: I got glasses...again. Yes, I admit it - I have the over 40 eye syndrome. When I last went to the eye doctor, I had just turned 44, and he told me that "everybody goes through this after they turn 40." So I got glasses. And almost never wore them. Then I came to Peru, went camping, and lost my glasses, but didn't realize it till several weeks later. I talked to O about it, but he was no help. So I squinted along, fumbling through things, until July, when I really couldn't see something that O was trying to point out to me. He apparently thought I was joking way back there 3 years ago when I told him that I lost my specs in Canta. We talked about going to the eye doctor (one of his friends is an optometrist), then he promptly put it off until I came back from vacation. I returned and fell over his bag that he left in the middle of the living room. (I'm not really THAT blind, it was dark, though, and I wasn't expecting him to drop his briefcase right there.) He noticed then, and decided that MAYBE I really did need glasses. Then other things happened and my eyes were put on the back burner until this weekend, when I THREW THE FIT FROM HELL and we went to the eye doctor and then to the optical district in Lima Centro.
As it turns out, the vendadora de lentes has a contract with the optometrist around the corner, and the eye exam was free. Then the salesgal did her best to sell me frames that were de moda (in style). She managed to do that, but not before O did some squabbling with her about price. We finally left there with a pair of fashionable glasses, complete with proper prescription lenses, for 80 nuevos soles, about $30 US. Not bad! (wish I'd have had them about 3 years earlier.)
In other news, I've finished spinning 550 yards of fingering weight yarn of Plum & Ginger merino/silk/sparkly fiber, and it's hanging out the laundry room window. Pictures when it's totally dry...maybe tomorrow!
As it turns out, the vendadora de lentes has a contract with the optometrist around the corner, and the eye exam was free. Then the salesgal did her best to sell me frames that were de moda (in style). She managed to do that, but not before O did some squabbling with her about price. We finally left there with a pair of fashionable glasses, complete with proper prescription lenses, for 80 nuevos soles, about $30 US. Not bad! (wish I'd have had them about 3 years earlier.)
In other news, I've finished spinning 550 yards of fingering weight yarn of Plum & Ginger merino/silk/sparkly fiber, and it's hanging out the laundry room window. Pictures when it's totally dry...maybe tomorrow!
Oct 14, 2009
I Owe My Life to My Shoes
Huh. Well, I haven't had much to write in the last little while. There's not too much going on here, now that I'm back from vacation. It's always a little tough to accept the fact that my free time is gone and I'm back to the grindstone. This month I've got 2 regular classes that are 2 hours long, and a third that is 4 hours long. So far, things are going along pretty well!
One thing that I was able to do while I was in the States was to get clothes that fit me. Thank goodness! Here in Peru, the average woman is about 5 inches shorter than I am, so legs and sleeves on clothes are always way to short. Anyway, I got some slacks that fit, some blouses that fit, and some shoes that fit. YEAY! Amazingly, it was the shoe purchase that turned out to make the biggest difference in everything I've done so far.
The shoes are just black lace-up oxfords. Flats. O laughed when he saw them, and everyone at work has looked at them with a smirk or a grimace on their faces. But I love them. Wearing these shoes has resulted in no more leg and foot pain, a lot less swelling in my legs and feet, and a totally happier me! I contribute the fact that my classes are going so well to the fact that I have a better outlook on life, since I have no more pain. Thanks to plain old black leather oxford shoes. No, they're not stylish, but they support my feet and are totally comfortable. I can climb up to the 8th floor and back down without crying. I also got a brown pair of Maryjanes with a thick rubber sole and wide toe - no heel to speak of, either. Yes, they look like little girl shoes in a large size, but I can wear them all day without tears!
I look at the shoes that the women around me are wearing and wonder who thought up such creative torture devices. Watching women totter around on impossible thin and high stiletto heels makes my legs ache. And those sharp-pointed toes...I can imagine my own toes squashed into a shoe like that - brings a tear to my eyes! The cruelest thing about this form of torture is that women have been brain-washed into thinking that these are desireable things to wear and will consciously force themselves to wear them - all in the name of fashion. Old women struggle along painfully in dangerously high-heeled shoes, mincing along unsteadily beside their younger daughters, nieces, and friends who are also tippy-toeing down the sidewalk in similar toe-mashing, leg cramping, ankle twisting foot killers. Never again will I wear anything like that (fingers crossed.)
My last shoe purchase was in Trujillo last weekend. Lily invited me to go shoe shopping, since Trujillo is the shoe capital of Peru. She bought stiletto heeled sandals, open-toed high heels, and a pair of platform tennis shoes. I bought myself one pair of men's high-topped leather hiking boots.
Lily sighed and rolled her eyes. She's always considered me to be a complete loss when it comes to following fashion trends. I say thank God for black leather oxfords with no heel.
One thing that I was able to do while I was in the States was to get clothes that fit me. Thank goodness! Here in Peru, the average woman is about 5 inches shorter than I am, so legs and sleeves on clothes are always way to short. Anyway, I got some slacks that fit, some blouses that fit, and some shoes that fit. YEAY! Amazingly, it was the shoe purchase that turned out to make the biggest difference in everything I've done so far.
The shoes are just black lace-up oxfords. Flats. O laughed when he saw them, and everyone at work has looked at them with a smirk or a grimace on their faces. But I love them. Wearing these shoes has resulted in no more leg and foot pain, a lot less swelling in my legs and feet, and a totally happier me! I contribute the fact that my classes are going so well to the fact that I have a better outlook on life, since I have no more pain. Thanks to plain old black leather oxford shoes. No, they're not stylish, but they support my feet and are totally comfortable. I can climb up to the 8th floor and back down without crying. I also got a brown pair of Maryjanes with a thick rubber sole and wide toe - no heel to speak of, either. Yes, they look like little girl shoes in a large size, but I can wear them all day without tears!
I look at the shoes that the women around me are wearing and wonder who thought up such creative torture devices. Watching women totter around on impossible thin and high stiletto heels makes my legs ache. And those sharp-pointed toes...I can imagine my own toes squashed into a shoe like that - brings a tear to my eyes! The cruelest thing about this form of torture is that women have been brain-washed into thinking that these are desireable things to wear and will consciously force themselves to wear them - all in the name of fashion. Old women struggle along painfully in dangerously high-heeled shoes, mincing along unsteadily beside their younger daughters, nieces, and friends who are also tippy-toeing down the sidewalk in similar toe-mashing, leg cramping, ankle twisting foot killers. Never again will I wear anything like that (fingers crossed.)
My last shoe purchase was in Trujillo last weekend. Lily invited me to go shoe shopping, since Trujillo is the shoe capital of Peru. She bought stiletto heeled sandals, open-toed high heels, and a pair of platform tennis shoes. I bought myself one pair of men's high-topped leather hiking boots.
Lily sighed and rolled her eyes. She's always considered me to be a complete loss when it comes to following fashion trends. I say thank God for black leather oxfords with no heel.
Oct 5, 2009
Peeee-uuuuuuuuu!
Not much happening here, except some spinning and Celeste's eau d'rot. She rolled in something dead or rotten. She reeks and doesn't get what the big deal is. O had her at the park when she discovered whatever it was, and took a nosedive into it. Then, heh, he put her in the car and brought her home. It's just a short ride, but the smell was nearly overwhelming for him. He came into the house a little cranky and disillusioned with his dog, once again. This time wasn't as bad as the time that she ate poop, but it still made him gag.
It's days like this when I wish we had a backyard so Celeste could spend her days outside, letting the aroma fade away.
It's days like this when I wish we had a backyard so Celeste could spend her days outside, letting the aroma fade away.
Sep 30, 2009
Sep 28, 2009
from fresh air and open range...
...to car exhaust and exhaustive traffic.
I'm back from vacation. It was kind of a working vacation. After the renters left my house (after they stopped paying rent and water and trash pick-up and I evicted them), I found out that I had to repair the back yard and have sod laid, and clean up what seemed like a year's worth of trash in the house, and wash and paint the walls and ceilings to get the odor out of the house. The little Chinese Elm tree in the back is struggling after a dog took all the bark off it. I wonder if it will survive. The landscaping & sod guys said that if I trim out the dead stuff and cut back the live branches some, it would probably make it, so I did. I hope it makes it. And the majority of my roses survived, too, inspite of a dog digging them up and chewing them up. That makes me very happy. I hope the sod has a chance to form a root system before it freezes. I have the impression that the dog's people just threw him out in the backyard and forgot about him, so he began to chew up everything he found. Celeste tells me that dogs do that when they feel abandoned and lonely.
After working on it a bit, I went to talk to a property manager about renting it again, and after speaking with that gentleman, I decided against renting at all. It seems that there are MANY renters that totally trash a home just because they can. So no more renters for me. I was totally dissillusioned and I felt violated when I saw the state of my home after those people were through with it. My house will just be closed up until I return next year. I had a huge rant all typed out about these particular people, but thought better of it just now and deleted it.
Anyway.
Poor Celeste has a boo-boo. O found a couple of hot spots on her head while I was gone, freaked out (luckily), and took her to the vet. The vet said it was fungus, shaved her head and applied some meds. She looks like a punk rocker, with pink and purple colors on her reverse mohawk haircut.
And my little Sunny left us, too. He was my basset hound that stayed on the farm. I'd tried to take him with me 2 or 3 times to Peru, but each time, the weather was too cold or too hot, and the airline wouldn't let him travel. So he waited for me on the farm. This month he traveled with me every day from the farm to the house in Cheyenne and back, supervising and playing and having a good time. I noticed that he wasn't dancing anymore, and he didn't seem to be the same happy little guy he had always been before, but still, every morning he charged to the house and waited at the car till it was time to go up to Cheyenne and work. Until he began to decline to eat. I took him to the vet and she found a mass in his stomach that had closed off the intestines. She also said he had "messy lungs", and thought that it might be cancer, from whatever caused it in his stomach, that was spreading to the lungs. So the decision was to put him down before he had much more difficulty or pain. It was the right thing to do, but it hurt to do it.
Sunny touched so many lives in his 8 years. The neighbors in Cheyenne knew him and loved him. He worked periodically at Triangle Cross Ranch with disabled people, who loved him, too. He taught us to love forever and forgive quickly and to let go of grudges. He even loved someone who didn't particularly care for him, ignored him, and called him ugly names.
I'm glad he waited for me to come home before he had to go. I'm thankful that we had some good times together this month, too. I'm glad that I was able to notice that something was really wrong and make that decision before he was in too much pain. I still cry when I think about him being gone.
After I'm done being sad about Sunny, I'll write a little more about my vacation. Just now, though, I need to go deal with my tears.
I'm back from vacation. It was kind of a working vacation. After the renters left my house (after they stopped paying rent and water and trash pick-up and I evicted them), I found out that I had to repair the back yard and have sod laid, and clean up what seemed like a year's worth of trash in the house, and wash and paint the walls and ceilings to get the odor out of the house. The little Chinese Elm tree in the back is struggling after a dog took all the bark off it. I wonder if it will survive. The landscaping & sod guys said that if I trim out the dead stuff and cut back the live branches some, it would probably make it, so I did. I hope it makes it. And the majority of my roses survived, too, inspite of a dog digging them up and chewing them up. That makes me very happy. I hope the sod has a chance to form a root system before it freezes. I have the impression that the dog's people just threw him out in the backyard and forgot about him, so he began to chew up everything he found. Celeste tells me that dogs do that when they feel abandoned and lonely.
After working on it a bit, I went to talk to a property manager about renting it again, and after speaking with that gentleman, I decided against renting at all. It seems that there are MANY renters that totally trash a home just because they can. So no more renters for me. I was totally dissillusioned and I felt violated when I saw the state of my home after those people were through with it. My house will just be closed up until I return next year. I had a huge rant all typed out about these particular people, but thought better of it just now and deleted it.
Anyway.
Poor Celeste has a boo-boo. O found a couple of hot spots on her head while I was gone, freaked out (luckily), and took her to the vet. The vet said it was fungus, shaved her head and applied some meds. She looks like a punk rocker, with pink and purple colors on her reverse mohawk haircut.
And my little Sunny left us, too. He was my basset hound that stayed on the farm. I'd tried to take him with me 2 or 3 times to Peru, but each time, the weather was too cold or too hot, and the airline wouldn't let him travel. So he waited for me on the farm. This month he traveled with me every day from the farm to the house in Cheyenne and back, supervising and playing and having a good time. I noticed that he wasn't dancing anymore, and he didn't seem to be the same happy little guy he had always been before, but still, every morning he charged to the house and waited at the car till it was time to go up to Cheyenne and work. Until he began to decline to eat. I took him to the vet and she found a mass in his stomach that had closed off the intestines. She also said he had "messy lungs", and thought that it might be cancer, from whatever caused it in his stomach, that was spreading to the lungs. So the decision was to put him down before he had much more difficulty or pain. It was the right thing to do, but it hurt to do it.
Sunny touched so many lives in his 8 years. The neighbors in Cheyenne knew him and loved him. He worked periodically at Triangle Cross Ranch with disabled people, who loved him, too. He taught us to love forever and forgive quickly and to let go of grudges. He even loved someone who didn't particularly care for him, ignored him, and called him ugly names.
I'm glad he waited for me to come home before he had to go. I'm thankful that we had some good times together this month, too. I'm glad that I was able to notice that something was really wrong and make that decision before he was in too much pain. I still cry when I think about him being gone.
After I'm done being sad about Sunny, I'll write a little more about my vacation. Just now, though, I need to go deal with my tears.
Aug 25, 2009
frustrations
Okay. I just spent the last month teaching 100 students pronunciation, grammar, vocabulary, and colloquialisms in the English language. Yesterday, I asked each of them if they had done their homework, and fully HALF of them said, "No teacha, I ause yeseday," (No teacher, I was absent yesterday.)
So, why go to all the trouble to present this stuff, if they are so willing to throw it aside when they have the opportunity to use it in a more authentic way than a contrived dialogue written in their textbooks? Never mind the fact that most of them WERE NOT absent - why NOT add what they learn to their repertoir, rather than stick with the "I ause yeseday"? What better way to personalize and make an authentic conversation than to talk about something real for them?
Today they have their final written exam, tomorrow they have to present a project in spoken and written form, and on Thursday, they have an oral exam in which they have to make use of all the language they have in their lessons. "I ause yeseday" gives me no confidence at all that they have learned or have tried to learn anything. I guess I'll see.
I've been told by the administration that I'm too demanding and that I expect way too much from my students. I wonder if that's bad. I expect them to be motivated and study. I expect them to come to class. I expect them to do their homework. I absolutely expect them to respond in some way, be it a correct answer, an "I don't know," or even "I don't really care." At the end of the cycle, many of them try to wheedle a better grade out of me by whining and tearing up or batting their eyes and flirting with me. Some try to intimidate me into raising their grades. Still others use guilt trips and head games, and one even resorted to the traditional Peruvian way - bribery.
I don't remember school or the few college classes I took being anything remotely like this. Maybe all those years working for the Air Force made my world too sheltered and structured. What ever happened to integrity, responsibility, and impeccability? Actually, I'm not that hard of a person. If I can see some TRY in a student, I'm willing to give him or her the benefit of the doubt. But to spend the cycle piddling around, talking about boyfriends, trying to sleep in class, or just not coming, and THEN try to squeeze extra points out of me? Sorry baby, I'm not that easy.
So, why go to all the trouble to present this stuff, if they are so willing to throw it aside when they have the opportunity to use it in a more authentic way than a contrived dialogue written in their textbooks? Never mind the fact that most of them WERE NOT absent - why NOT add what they learn to their repertoir, rather than stick with the "I ause yeseday"? What better way to personalize and make an authentic conversation than to talk about something real for them?
Today they have their final written exam, tomorrow they have to present a project in spoken and written form, and on Thursday, they have an oral exam in which they have to make use of all the language they have in their lessons. "I ause yeseday" gives me no confidence at all that they have learned or have tried to learn anything. I guess I'll see.
I've been told by the administration that I'm too demanding and that I expect way too much from my students. I wonder if that's bad. I expect them to be motivated and study. I expect them to come to class. I expect them to do their homework. I absolutely expect them to respond in some way, be it a correct answer, an "I don't know," or even "I don't really care." At the end of the cycle, many of them try to wheedle a better grade out of me by whining and tearing up or batting their eyes and flirting with me. Some try to intimidate me into raising their grades. Still others use guilt trips and head games, and one even resorted to the traditional Peruvian way - bribery.
I don't remember school or the few college classes I took being anything remotely like this. Maybe all those years working for the Air Force made my world too sheltered and structured. What ever happened to integrity, responsibility, and impeccability? Actually, I'm not that hard of a person. If I can see some TRY in a student, I'm willing to give him or her the benefit of the doubt. But to spend the cycle piddling around, talking about boyfriends, trying to sleep in class, or just not coming, and THEN try to squeeze extra points out of me? Sorry baby, I'm not that easy.
Aug 20, 2009
New spindle!
Here's my new spindle from ButterflyGirlDesigns. It's beautiful! Now I can get on with spinning the Plum and Ginger batts from ArtemisArtemis!
Aug 18, 2009
a bunch of random late night stuff
1. I'm still working on the knitted roving bag. I think it will felt very nicely, since it seems to be felting right here in my hands.
2. Still spinning Waltzing Matilda. Gads, lambkins can be spun for frickin' EVER and still have a pile of roving left in the bag.
3. Still spinning on Rough Cut Diamonds...less than 2 ounces of the original 6 to go. Hoping for enough to make some nice long socks.
4. Still spinning on ArtemisArtemis Ginger and Plum...kinda held up while waiting for my new Butterfly Girl spindle to come. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. WHERE IS IT??? I've got the mailman traps baited and set out, but haven't caught anything yet.
5. Have 8 ounces of beautifully rustic rambouillet roving from Fat Cat Knits to spin up into stockings, if I ever get finished with what I've got on the spindles already.
6. Celeste has a beautiful cushy new bed and where does she sleep whenever possible? (Hint: NOT in her own bed.)
7. No Bubys or Butsys in my classes this month. Only 7 Luises, 5 Maricruzes, 4 Jorges, a whopping 15 Joses, but just 1 Miguel. After calling on Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 3,4,5, and 6, I'd give my eye teeth for just one Livinton or Wasinton. I'd even settle for a Dooby or a Dohboy, just to break up the monotony. (They're one's in someone else's class. Such a pity.)
2. Still spinning Waltzing Matilda. Gads, lambkins can be spun for frickin' EVER and still have a pile of roving left in the bag.
3. Still spinning on Rough Cut Diamonds...less than 2 ounces of the original 6 to go. Hoping for enough to make some nice long socks.
4. Still spinning on ArtemisArtemis Ginger and Plum...kinda held up while waiting for my new Butterfly Girl spindle to come. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. WHERE IS IT??? I've got the mailman traps baited and set out, but haven't caught anything yet.
5. Have 8 ounces of beautifully rustic rambouillet roving from Fat Cat Knits to spin up into stockings, if I ever get finished with what I've got on the spindles already.
6. Celeste has a beautiful cushy new bed and where does she sleep whenever possible? (Hint: NOT in her own bed.)
7. No Bubys or Butsys in my classes this month. Only 7 Luises, 5 Maricruzes, 4 Jorges, a whopping 15 Joses, but just 1 Miguel. After calling on Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 3,4,5, and 6, I'd give my eye teeth for just one Livinton or Wasinton. I'd even settle for a Dooby or a Dohboy, just to break up the monotony. (They're one's in someone else's class. Such a pity.)
Aug 12, 2009
Just quickly...
Damn this day job! It interferes so much with my REAL life, my fiber life. Between a correspondence course on line, a presentation and class observation with another instructor, getting evaluated, and a full day of teaching, I'm not getting the proper quality time with my projects. Knitting with the mermaid blue/green/purple roving has become so addicting; just watching those gorgeous colors slip through my finger is mesmerizing. It's been quite an interesting experiment so far. I'm not advancing as fast as I'd like, partially due to a little vegetable matter (VM) that's cropping up as I split the roving and draft it out to the thickness that I want for knitting. And partially due to the fact that I spend a lot of time just staring at the colors and imagining that I'm in a clean, clear river in the mountains.
Septimus Heap is over for now. Wah. It was a fast and fun read, but now I have to wait to get the next volume until I go visiting Barnes & Noble when I go home next month. The SH series is a result of the Harry Potter craze, but these books are a little more gentle and less violent. Not that there's a lack of danger and adventure - there is plenty - but it's handled in a way that's more suited for a younger reader. So it focuses a little more on the fun aspect of the magical imagination than Harry Potter does. Things also take place outside of the walls of the castle, in the forest, in the Marsh, in the Badlands, and in the Ramblings, and things seem a little more verdant and fresh, and not so dark. Plus the characters are kind of different. The story is a little less sophisticated than Harry Potter, and so are the characters. I definitely recommend The Septimus Heap series if you want a fun, quick read! The good thing is that there doesn't seem to be an end to the series looming on the horizon.
And, speaking of going home, I really cannot wait to go! It's been 2 years since I've had a vacation, and I'm ready. It's been 2 years since I've spent much time at all out of the smog and car exhaust. I need a few lungfuls of clean country air, even if it's flavored with eau d' dairy cow, goat, or alpaca. Plus, I need some clothes. My work clothes are getting worn out and I seem to be too big to be able to find affordable clothing and footwear here. My tennis shoes have several holes in them now and the soles are so smooth that I get no traction at all with them.
*Sigh* It's time to get ready for work again. See you later.
Septimus Heap is over for now. Wah. It was a fast and fun read, but now I have to wait to get the next volume until I go visiting Barnes & Noble when I go home next month. The SH series is a result of the Harry Potter craze, but these books are a little more gentle and less violent. Not that there's a lack of danger and adventure - there is plenty - but it's handled in a way that's more suited for a younger reader. So it focuses a little more on the fun aspect of the magical imagination than Harry Potter does. Things also take place outside of the walls of the castle, in the forest, in the Marsh, in the Badlands, and in the Ramblings, and things seem a little more verdant and fresh, and not so dark. Plus the characters are kind of different. The story is a little less sophisticated than Harry Potter, and so are the characters. I definitely recommend The Septimus Heap series if you want a fun, quick read! The good thing is that there doesn't seem to be an end to the series looming on the horizon.
And, speaking of going home, I really cannot wait to go! It's been 2 years since I've had a vacation, and I'm ready. It's been 2 years since I've spent much time at all out of the smog and car exhaust. I need a few lungfuls of clean country air, even if it's flavored with eau d' dairy cow, goat, or alpaca. Plus, I need some clothes. My work clothes are getting worn out and I seem to be too big to be able to find affordable clothing and footwear here. My tennis shoes have several holes in them now and the soles are so smooth that I get no traction at all with them.
*Sigh* It's time to get ready for work again. See you later.
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