So the other night around 2 am or so, I woke up when Jeff got out of bed and walked around to my bedside table and unplugged my cell phone. "What are you doing?" I asked him, mostly still asleep.
"There are snakes in the bed."
Um... really? But knowing that my husband is a semi-regular sleep talker, I felt confident that there weren't actually snakes in the bed.
Using my cell phone as a flashlight, he threw back the covers on his side of the bed.
"They're gone," he said. But his middle-of-the-night subtext was much richer: Ah, yes. Those tricky snakes are gone; I was expecting this... You've foiled me tonight, snakes, but next time, next time, you won't be so lucky...
9.03.2009
6.30.2009
More practice required
I just returned from France where I was the guest flute instructor at the Limonest Conversatoire. In preparation for my trip, I practiced my French using Rosetta Stone software and made decent progress. Upon reaching France, though, I soon discovered (as I feared/knew, really) that I was sorely lacking the right kind of vocabulary for flute teaching.
I quickly started a list of the most commonly need phrases:
Start here.
Try it.
Like this.
That's better!
That's too fast.
That's too slow.
You're a little late here.
I heard ______
I like your sound!
Over the time I was there, I felt like I improved dramatically and by the end did not need to reference my sheet at all. I saw several students more than once while I was there and they confirmed that indeed I had made progress. I tried very hard to speak French (referencing my dictionary quite a bit) especially with the youngest students who were only 8 and didn't speak any English.
Of course, you know there had to be at least one case of lost in translation-ness and here it is...
I was meeting with an adult student whom I was told was quite advanced. (He was playing the Poulenc Sonata for all you flute-folk out there.) He also spoke English quite well. But, I was dedicated to my project of speaking French and so persisted with due diligence. Our conversation is recorded below, translated to English.
Me: Hello! My name is Jessica.
Mark: Hello! My name is Mark.
Me: Pleased to meet you!
Mark: Me too.
Me: Start at the beginning? (things like "would you like to" and other niceties were beyond me, but I said everything in a pleasant way hoping it would be communicated)
Mark plays the first movement very well. I am impressed and would like to communicate that I really like his sound. I'm thinking of how to say this as he finishes playing.
Me: (stated in my pleasant and most earnest Do-you-understand-what-I'm-saying? manner) I love you!
Mark: quite startled and now in English Wow! You love me? We've only known each other for 10 minutes! That's great!
Me: also now in English Oh, no! I meant I like your sound. I don't think my husband would be happy that I'm telling strangers I love them. So sorry!
So, the rest of Mark's lesson was in English...
I quickly started a list of the most commonly need phrases:
Start here.
Try it.
Like this.
That's better!
That's too fast.
That's too slow.
You're a little late here.
I heard ______
I like your sound!
Over the time I was there, I felt like I improved dramatically and by the end did not need to reference my sheet at all. I saw several students more than once while I was there and they confirmed that indeed I had made progress. I tried very hard to speak French (referencing my dictionary quite a bit) especially with the youngest students who were only 8 and didn't speak any English.
Of course, you know there had to be at least one case of lost in translation-ness and here it is...
I was meeting with an adult student whom I was told was quite advanced. (He was playing the Poulenc Sonata for all you flute-folk out there.) He also spoke English quite well. But, I was dedicated to my project of speaking French and so persisted with due diligence. Our conversation is recorded below, translated to English.
Me: Hello! My name is Jessica.
Mark: Hello! My name is Mark.
Me: Pleased to meet you!
Mark: Me too.
Me: Start at the beginning? (things like "would you like to" and other niceties were beyond me, but I said everything in a pleasant way hoping it would be communicated)
Mark plays the first movement very well. I am impressed and would like to communicate that I really like his sound. I'm thinking of how to say this as he finishes playing.
Me: (stated in my pleasant and most earnest Do-you-understand-what-I'm-saying? manner) I love you!
Mark: quite startled and now in English Wow! You love me? We've only known each other for 10 minutes! That's great!
Me: also now in English Oh, no! I meant I like your sound. I don't think my husband would be happy that I'm telling strangers I love them. So sorry!
So, the rest of Mark's lesson was in English...
5.15.2009
Sweet dreams are made of these
Last night Jeff went to bed much earlier than I did. He's a pretty light sleeper, so when I came to bed I started to have a little conversation with him. He was keeping up pretty well, especially for having been asleep for about 1 1/2 hours. I was starting to think maybe he hadn't really fallen asleep yet (it's hard to tell sometimes because his eyes are closed), and then in the middle of a sentence he said,
"I wish chocolate sauce was made in the US."
And I said, "Oh. They don't make it here?"
so sadly "No."
"Oh. That's sad. Do you like chocolate sauce?"
happier "Yes."
"What do you like to eat it with?"
a pause for thought "Cake."
"Cake? What about ice cream? I thought your favorite food was ice cream?"
"No... I don't really like ice cream anymore."
"Oh."
"I have to go to bed now. Good night wife."
"I wish chocolate sauce was made in the US."
And I said, "Oh. They don't make it here?"
so sadly "No."
"Oh. That's sad. Do you like chocolate sauce?"
happier "Yes."
"What do you like to eat it with?"
a pause for thought "Cake."
"Cake? What about ice cream? I thought your favorite food was ice cream?"
"No... I don't really like ice cream anymore."
"Oh."
"I have to go to bed now. Good night wife."
5.10.2009
When vanity and lack of sleep collide
On Friday night Jeff and I got home from the bon voyage party for our French friends around 3:30 am. We needed to be up at 6:00 am to make it to Ohio for Jeff's brother's wedding. So after 2.5 hours of sleep, we were off right on time.
Later that afternoon, I pulled up to the church feeling pretty good about the outfit and thought that people might not even know how tired I was. I walked into the church and the first thing my husband says, surrounded by his fellow groomsmen, was "Wow, wife. You look hot."
The second thing: "Do you know you're wearing 2 different shoes?"
Immediate panic. I looked down and had a flashback to earlier that afternoon... while I was getting dressed, I pulled the desk chair over to the mirror in the room so I could stand on it so I could see my feet and choose whether the peep-toe or the pointy shoe was better. I clearly remember choosing the pointy. Apparently I stopped thinking about it right then.
I quickly ran to the doors, but then just as quickly came back in. While it was going to damage my pride, I was just going to have to be the daughter-in-law wearing 2 different shoes in the pictures. It was already 1:52 and I was told to be there by 2:00. There was not enough time to go back to the hotel and get back in time. I would just have to suck it up.
I explained this to Jeff and my brother-in-law, who had finally stopped laughing, and he clarified that actually it was just the music that started at 2:00. The actual ceremony didn't start until 2:30. Man, I can run fast in heels, even 2 of varying heights.
As I reached the car, a man was wiping some mud off his trousers. I made of sound of despair at my own idiocy, but he took as a recognition of his predicament. He said, "I can't believe I got mud on my pants." I replied in a sort of hysterical panic as I was climbing into the car, "Well at least you're not wearing 2 different f@$&% shoes...," and then just before closing the door, "Oh, I'm sorry I swore, I don't even know you." And then I was off.
I got back to the hotel, grabbed the appropriate shoe and got back to the church with time to spare. My husband escorted me to my pew. A few seconds later the photographer came over, glanced down at my feet and said, "My son told me what happened in the parking lot. I was just coming over to check if you were wearing 2 matching shoes now or if we'd have to be creative with the pictures and cover your feet with her dress or something." sigh
It's the stuff family legends are made of and I suppose I will become accustomed to the fact that I will hear this story at every family function for the rest of my life.
Later that afternoon, I pulled up to the church feeling pretty good about the outfit and thought that people might not even know how tired I was. I walked into the church and the first thing my husband says, surrounded by his fellow groomsmen, was "Wow, wife. You look hot."
The second thing: "Do you know you're wearing 2 different shoes?"
Immediate panic. I looked down and had a flashback to earlier that afternoon... while I was getting dressed, I pulled the desk chair over to the mirror in the room so I could stand on it so I could see my feet and choose whether the peep-toe or the pointy shoe was better. I clearly remember choosing the pointy. Apparently I stopped thinking about it right then.
I quickly ran to the doors, but then just as quickly came back in. While it was going to damage my pride, I was just going to have to be the daughter-in-law wearing 2 different shoes in the pictures. It was already 1:52 and I was told to be there by 2:00. There was not enough time to go back to the hotel and get back in time. I would just have to suck it up.
I explained this to Jeff and my brother-in-law, who had finally stopped laughing, and he clarified that actually it was just the music that started at 2:00. The actual ceremony didn't start until 2:30. Man, I can run fast in heels, even 2 of varying heights.
As I reached the car, a man was wiping some mud off his trousers. I made of sound of despair at my own idiocy, but he took as a recognition of his predicament. He said, "I can't believe I got mud on my pants." I replied in a sort of hysterical panic as I was climbing into the car, "Well at least you're not wearing 2 different f@$&% shoes...," and then just before closing the door, "Oh, I'm sorry I swore, I don't even know you." And then I was off.
I got back to the hotel, grabbed the appropriate shoe and got back to the church with time to spare. My husband escorted me to my pew. A few seconds later the photographer came over, glanced down at my feet and said, "My son told me what happened in the parking lot. I was just coming over to check if you were wearing 2 matching shoes now or if we'd have to be creative with the pictures and cover your feet with her dress or something." sigh
It's the stuff family legends are made of and I suppose I will become accustomed to the fact that I will hear this story at every family function for the rest of my life.
5.08.2009
So, so fast
I don't have many words today, just this picture of my French friend whom I love and the tremendous heartbreak of having to say goodbye tonight.
5.01.2009
Who says history is boring?
Today one of my students got done playing her short piece and said, "I like that one. I'd like to know who wrote that song." She looked it up and found the composer's name: R. Schumann.
Being the history aficionado that I am, I asked "Would you like to know something about Robert Schumann?" She said she would, in fact. I told her I was going to tell her two things. First, that while Robert Schumann is widely recognized now, during his lifetime it was actually Robert's wife, Clara, who was the really famous one. I told her she was like the Hannah Montana of pianists. My student nodded knowingly, taking this in stride. I explained how history sometimes changes people's perspectives and it wasn't until much, much later that people started to rediscover Clara's prominence in music.
Then her mom, who had been reading a magazine, piped up. "Oh, wasn't she that woman who changed her name so that people would think she was a man? Something Sand?..." I said, "Oh George Sand. No, that wasn't her." "Oh -- but then didn't Clara take up with another man?" "Well, she was good friends with Brahms, but..." "'Friends' my foot...," she mumbled. "Well, then who on earth was George Sand with?" she asked. "Chopin." "Ohhh, Chopin. Now there's a man I wish I'd known..."
The second thing I told her was that Robert Schumann actually went insane during his short life and tried to commit suicide by drowning himself in the river. "Whoa," replied my student. Then she wondered how a person would become insane. I replied, "Syphilis." "What's th-" Another interjection from her mom: "It's like the flu, honey. People can catch it." She paused, looked up and shook her head. "hmph. Musicians."
Being the history aficionado that I am, I asked "Would you like to know something about Robert Schumann?" She said she would, in fact. I told her I was going to tell her two things. First, that while Robert Schumann is widely recognized now, during his lifetime it was actually Robert's wife, Clara, who was the really famous one. I told her she was like the Hannah Montana of pianists. My student nodded knowingly, taking this in stride. I explained how history sometimes changes people's perspectives and it wasn't until much, much later that people started to rediscover Clara's prominence in music.
Then her mom, who had been reading a magazine, piped up. "Oh, wasn't she that woman who changed her name so that people would think she was a man? Something Sand?..." I said, "Oh George Sand. No, that wasn't her." "Oh -- but then didn't Clara take up with another man?" "Well, she was good friends with Brahms, but..." "'Friends' my foot...," she mumbled. "Well, then who on earth was George Sand with?" she asked. "Chopin." "Ohhh, Chopin. Now there's a man I wish I'd known..."
The second thing I told her was that Robert Schumann actually went insane during his short life and tried to commit suicide by drowning himself in the river. "Whoa," replied my student. Then she wondered how a person would become insane. I replied, "Syphilis." "What's th-" Another interjection from her mom: "It's like the flu, honey. People can catch it." She paused, looked up and shook her head. "hmph. Musicians."
In sickness and in health
I might need to review my marriage vows...
Both Jeff and I hate to clean. We enjoy living in a tidy environment, but the actual process of cleaning is one that we both avoid. Here's our conversation from this morning, just after coffee.
Jeff: Hey, do you have bug bites on you?
Me: No.
Jeff: I do. On my stomach and ankles and they're really itchy. I wonder if there was a bug that got me during the night.
Me: No, I've got nothing. Say, can we come up with a division of labor for the cleaning today?
Jeff: skeptically Okay...
Me: Okay, you do the entire kitchen and our bathroom and I'll do the 2 guest rooms, the guest bathrooms, the living room and vacuum. But I don't want anything to do with the kitchen.
Jeff: (without hesitation) Deal.
Time passes peacefully as we both work on our tasks. About 45 minutes later, I hear:
Jeff: Hey, I think I'm having an allergic reaction...
Me: To cleaning?
Jeff: No, to this medicine. He lifted his shirt to reveal 3765 tiny red hives all over him. I think I'm going to have to take Benadryl (a tiny hint of a smile started to form as he continued) and that's going to make me sleepy... (no attempt to mask his smile)
Me: huge sigh Oh, crap. If you think this is getting you out of cleaning the kitchen...
Jeff: You kind of suck.
Both Jeff and I hate to clean. We enjoy living in a tidy environment, but the actual process of cleaning is one that we both avoid. Here's our conversation from this morning, just after coffee.
Jeff: Hey, do you have bug bites on you?
Me: No.
Jeff: I do. On my stomach and ankles and they're really itchy. I wonder if there was a bug that got me during the night.
Me: No, I've got nothing. Say, can we come up with a division of labor for the cleaning today?
Jeff: skeptically Okay...
Me: Okay, you do the entire kitchen and our bathroom and I'll do the 2 guest rooms, the guest bathrooms, the living room and vacuum. But I don't want anything to do with the kitchen.
Jeff: (without hesitation) Deal.
Time passes peacefully as we both work on our tasks. About 45 minutes later, I hear:
Jeff: Hey, I think I'm having an allergic reaction...
Me: To cleaning?
Jeff: No, to this medicine. He lifted his shirt to reveal 3765 tiny red hives all over him. I think I'm going to have to take Benadryl (a tiny hint of a smile started to form as he continued) and that's going to make me sleepy... (no attempt to mask his smile)
Me: huge sigh Oh, crap. If you think this is getting you out of cleaning the kitchen...
Jeff: You kind of suck.
3.17.2009
St. Patrick's Day at the gym
I've recently added a Pilates class to my workout routine. Tonight was my third class, and I'm starting to notice some things.
"I just thought I should tell you, I had corned beef and cabbage today for dinner."
- I am decidedly not flexible. There are many moves where one is supposed to point their toe directly at the ceiling while laying on one's back. Um, yeah right.
- I really like rolling like a ball. It's super fun.
- The type of breathing used in Pilates is quite relaxing.
- A move only needs 4 or 5 repetitions to be effective. So, there is a great deal of variety.
- People fart. A lot.
"I just thought I should tell you, I had corned beef and cabbage today for dinner."
2.22.2009
A funny shopping trip
I just got back from a quick trip to Target. I would like to report on two episodes...
Episode 1:
While walking through the clothing section of the store, I passed a mom who was my age and her son who was probably around 4 by the looks of him. As I was looking through a rack, I heard him shout:
"MOM! ARE YOU AN 'XL'????"
A much quieter reply came back, "(sigh) Yes, honey...,"
"MOM! I FOUND AN XL OVER HERE!"
"MOM! HERE'S ANOTHER XL!"
"MOM! THIS ONE HAS 2 X'S! DO YOU NEED ONE WITH 2 X'S???"
Finally, in a quiet, exasperated tone she responded "Okay, honey, thank you. Try not to shout anymore, okay? (sigh)"
Episode 2:
I was making my way toward the body soap aisle and was following a mom pushing her son, who looked to be about 2 or 3, in a cart.
He was making farting sounds with his mouth.
"Mom," he giggled and then made the sound, "I'm pooping." Fart, fart.
"Shh, honey, don't do that!" She glanced around her. She saw me.
Fart, fart, fart. "Mom! I'm still pooping!" Fart, fart, fart.
She glanced around again. I was studiously not making eye contact and was looking at everything we were passing with great interest. But I had to keep following her because she was turning into the very aisle I needed as well.
She paused in front of the body soap. Fart, fart, fart. She watched me as I stopped there, too. She left the aisle, without any soap.
"Honey, you shouldn't make those kinds of sounds in the store," she whispered to him.
"Mom, I wasn't really pooping..." I heard him say as they turned the corner.
Episode 1:
While walking through the clothing section of the store, I passed a mom who was my age and her son who was probably around 4 by the looks of him. As I was looking through a rack, I heard him shout:
"MOM! ARE YOU AN 'XL'????"
A much quieter reply came back, "(sigh) Yes, honey...,"
"MOM! I FOUND AN XL OVER HERE!"
"MOM! HERE'S ANOTHER XL!"
"MOM! THIS ONE HAS 2 X'S! DO YOU NEED ONE WITH 2 X'S???"
Finally, in a quiet, exasperated tone she responded "Okay, honey, thank you. Try not to shout anymore, okay? (sigh)"
Episode 2:
I was making my way toward the body soap aisle and was following a mom pushing her son, who looked to be about 2 or 3, in a cart.
He was making farting sounds with his mouth.
"Mom," he giggled and then made the sound, "I'm pooping." Fart, fart.
"Shh, honey, don't do that!" She glanced around her. She saw me.
Fart, fart, fart. "Mom! I'm still pooping!" Fart, fart, fart.
She glanced around again. I was studiously not making eye contact and was looking at everything we were passing with great interest. But I had to keep following her because she was turning into the very aisle I needed as well.
She paused in front of the body soap. Fart, fart, fart. She watched me as I stopped there, too. She left the aisle, without any soap.
"Honey, you shouldn't make those kinds of sounds in the store," she whispered to him.
"Mom, I wasn't really pooping..." I heard him say as they turned the corner.
2.20.2009
I made 'em sweat alright
Well, it was awesome.
And, there's something to be said for people's low expectations...
I got to the gym last night, changed as fast as I could, grabbed my CD, handwritten sheet of moves and tape (to hang it on the mirror, of course) and went out. A couple of my friends from class were up at the front. A few other ladies that I recognized from class were hanging out by the machines that border the aerobics space chatting and looking skeptical. One of these ladies walked over to us.
"I just want to tell you that they say they're going to bail," she said.
"Oh...," I said. "Well, it's going to be really good! They should stay!"
"I told them we should give it a try, but I don't know..."
So I took my sheet of handwritten moves and walked over to the lady that looked most skeptical.
I showed her my sheet. "Look, it's going to be good, I promise. I practiced really hard. You should stay." And then I went and taped my sheet to the mirror.
The group of ladies on the verge of bailing out made their way to the middle of the space. I smiled.
I was nervous for about 8 jabs at the beginning and then every time a new block of moves was about to start (the transitions can be kind of tricky), but I think it was really good. They all clapped when it was over and many of them made it a point to come talk to me afterward, which was cool. They were impressed that I had made my own moves. They liked my sheet.
I'm glad I joined this gym. I've found more than I was hoping for.
And, there's something to be said for people's low expectations...
I got to the gym last night, changed as fast as I could, grabbed my CD, handwritten sheet of moves and tape (to hang it on the mirror, of course) and went out. A couple of my friends from class were up at the front. A few other ladies that I recognized from class were hanging out by the machines that border the aerobics space chatting and looking skeptical. One of these ladies walked over to us.
"I just want to tell you that they say they're going to bail," she said.
"Oh...," I said. "Well, it's going to be really good! They should stay!"
"I told them we should give it a try, but I don't know..."
So I took my sheet of handwritten moves and walked over to the lady that looked most skeptical.
I showed her my sheet. "Look, it's going to be good, I promise. I practiced really hard. You should stay." And then I went and taped my sheet to the mirror.
The group of ladies on the verge of bailing out made their way to the middle of the space. I smiled.
I was nervous for about 8 jabs at the beginning and then every time a new block of moves was about to start (the transitions can be kind of tricky), but I think it was really good. They all clapped when it was over and many of them made it a point to come talk to me afterward, which was cool. They were impressed that I had made my own moves. They liked my sheet.
I'm glad I joined this gym. I've found more than I was hoping for.
2.18.2009
My big break
Well, tomorrow something very exciting will happen.
I will get to cross another job off my top 5.
(On my list:
1. Farmer
2. Bartender
3. D.J.
4. Mailman
5. Aerobics instructor)
As most of you know, tomorrow night I get to sub for my kickboxing instructor.
I have my very own copy of my favorite CD from class (it both opens and closes with Rihanna's S.O.S -- great for punching and kicking) and my instructor even wrote down some moves. I tried to use her combinations as I was practicing, but found that it seemed a little easier to use the moves that occurred naturally to me with each track. However it took awhile to get the combinations to work out properly with the music the way I thought they should, so I probably worked through each track 3 or 4 times. And when you add that time all together, well, that's a lot of kickboxing.
So, I'll head off to bed now and probably dream of kickboxing. Jeff better watch out for any errant kicking... hehe.
I will get to cross another job off my top 5.
(On my list:
1. Farmer
2. Bartender
3. D.J.
4. Mailman
5. Aerobics instructor)
As most of you know, tomorrow night I get to sub for my kickboxing instructor.
I have my very own copy of my favorite CD from class (it both opens and closes with Rihanna's S.O.S -- great for punching and kicking) and my instructor even wrote down some moves. I tried to use her combinations as I was practicing, but found that it seemed a little easier to use the moves that occurred naturally to me with each track. However it took awhile to get the combinations to work out properly with the music the way I thought they should, so I probably worked through each track 3 or 4 times. And when you add that time all together, well, that's a lot of kickboxing.
So, I'll head off to bed now and probably dream of kickboxing. Jeff better watch out for any errant kicking... hehe.
2.03.2009
All's fair...
You know how Jesus walked on water?
Well, we might be dealing with some seriously holy squirrels.
Our squirrel war has intensified pretty significantly over the last few months. When I think back to our first feeble attempts to capture the squirrels (the sticky glue paper), I can only shake my head with a sigh at our naiveté. After the squirrels used the papers as play things (they covered them with the loose cellulose insulation from the attic) we knew something had to change.
So we bought 2 live traps. Squirrels make a lot of racket when they get trapped in one of those, let me tell you. Jeff took the first two squirrels that were captured to a park near our bank, which is about 8 miles from our house. As soon as he opened the trap, they were out like a shot. Straight back to our house! That's right friends. You could trade in your fancy navigation system for a run of the mill squirrel. Turns out they have a natural GPS system of their own, so even when taken away from home, they can still find their way back. Okay, okay, so I don't know for certain that the squirrels we captured 2 days later were the same squirrels, but they looked suspiciously similar.
We were having trouble with the idea of actually killing captured squirrels until the other day when it became abundantly clear that not only were the squirrels still very much in this battle, but that we were in serious danger of losing. Our defenses had been compromised. Jeff was taking his laundry to the basement when much to his surprise, he saw a squirrel. In the basement. That's right, out in the clear light of day. Having witnessed such a brazen move, we knew we had to strike back.
We put the traps back up and when we heard that we had captured one, we waited. And waited. And after a day, we didn't hear anything anymore. Sad, I know, but this is war.
Well, we've been feeling pretty good about the repairs Jeff made in the attic because we haven't heard anything for a couple of days. There's been no more sightings in the basement and we were starting to breathe a little easier. That is until this morning.
I was sitting in the office drinking my coffee when I heard Jeff say "So that's why I haven't seen any squirrel tracks."
I looked out the window and to my surprise, I saw a squirrel walking ever so carefully on the snow and he wasn't making a single track. It was like Jesus himself had taught him.
Now how are we going to compete with that? With God on their side, I'm afraid we don't stand a chance.
Well, we might be dealing with some seriously holy squirrels.
Our squirrel war has intensified pretty significantly over the last few months. When I think back to our first feeble attempts to capture the squirrels (the sticky glue paper), I can only shake my head with a sigh at our naiveté. After the squirrels used the papers as play things (they covered them with the loose cellulose insulation from the attic) we knew something had to change.
So we bought 2 live traps. Squirrels make a lot of racket when they get trapped in one of those, let me tell you. Jeff took the first two squirrels that were captured to a park near our bank, which is about 8 miles from our house. As soon as he opened the trap, they were out like a shot. Straight back to our house! That's right friends. You could trade in your fancy navigation system for a run of the mill squirrel. Turns out they have a natural GPS system of their own, so even when taken away from home, they can still find their way back. Okay, okay, so I don't know for certain that the squirrels we captured 2 days later were the same squirrels, but they looked suspiciously similar.
We were having trouble with the idea of actually killing captured squirrels until the other day when it became abundantly clear that not only were the squirrels still very much in this battle, but that we were in serious danger of losing. Our defenses had been compromised. Jeff was taking his laundry to the basement when much to his surprise, he saw a squirrel. In the basement. That's right, out in the clear light of day. Having witnessed such a brazen move, we knew we had to strike back.
We put the traps back up and when we heard that we had captured one, we waited. And waited. And after a day, we didn't hear anything anymore. Sad, I know, but this is war.
Well, we've been feeling pretty good about the repairs Jeff made in the attic because we haven't heard anything for a couple of days. There's been no more sightings in the basement and we were starting to breathe a little easier. That is until this morning.
I was sitting in the office drinking my coffee when I heard Jeff say "So that's why I haven't seen any squirrel tracks."
I looked out the window and to my surprise, I saw a squirrel walking ever so carefully on the snow and he wasn't making a single track. It was like Jesus himself had taught him.
Now how are we going to compete with that? With God on their side, I'm afraid we don't stand a chance.
1.27.2009
Exercise: Good for the body and soul
You know what's a really great feeling? Being missed.
To be missed implies a history. 1) I know who you are, 2) I like seeing you, 3) I noticed that you were gone.
Ahhh....
I got to kickboxing tonight after not being able to go last week at all, and this is on top of a reduction in attendance overall the last couple months due to work commitments. So after class my instructor and a couple of girls from class came up to me and told me all of the new things they tried last week and said that we should really try them out next Tuesday because they knew I'd really like them. There was laughing, a casual touch on the arm to emphasize a point, and a general ease in conversation. Details that of themselves aren't really a big deal but one day could add together to be something great: friendship.
And that would be a big deal.
To be missed implies a history. 1) I know who you are, 2) I like seeing you, 3) I noticed that you were gone.
Ahhh....
I got to kickboxing tonight after not being able to go last week at all, and this is on top of a reduction in attendance overall the last couple months due to work commitments. So after class my instructor and a couple of girls from class came up to me and told me all of the new things they tried last week and said that we should really try them out next Tuesday because they knew I'd really like them. There was laughing, a casual touch on the arm to emphasize a point, and a general ease in conversation. Details that of themselves aren't really a big deal but one day could add together to be something great: friendship.
And that would be a big deal.
1.16.2009
In gratitude
(An open letter to the reference librarian at the University of Michigan-Flint.)
Dear Reference Librarian:
Please accept my sincere gratitude for your endless patience and unwavering dedication to the pursuit of reference materials.
I am in awe of your knowledge of the proper way to request a copy of an article from a journal that doesn't exist at our library. It worked far better than my method of throwing my hands up in the air and shouting "Why doesn't this stupid library own anything???"
And thank you for saving me from printing (and paying for) 384 pages of a dissertation called Tooters and Tutors. The 'email this' button will allow me to read first and print second (an axiom that might make a good reference librarian t-shirt slogan, don't you think?).
I appreciate the reminder that I shouldn't forget my library card/copy card in the copy machine. You're right, it did take me a week to obtain and it absolutely would be a shame to lose it on the first day.
Oh, and I didn't forget that you were the one who caught the fact that I had requested my seven books be sent to the Ann Arbor campus instead of ours. Good catch, Mr. Librarian!
So, thanks again and next week I will try to use my "library voice" when shouting at the computer/card catalog/New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, second edition.
Sincerely,
Jessica
Dear Reference Librarian:
Please accept my sincere gratitude for your endless patience and unwavering dedication to the pursuit of reference materials.
I am in awe of your knowledge of the proper way to request a copy of an article from a journal that doesn't exist at our library. It worked far better than my method of throwing my hands up in the air and shouting "Why doesn't this stupid library own anything???"
And thank you for saving me from printing (and paying for) 384 pages of a dissertation called Tooters and Tutors. The 'email this' button will allow me to read first and print second (an axiom that might make a good reference librarian t-shirt slogan, don't you think?).
I appreciate the reminder that I shouldn't forget my library card/copy card in the copy machine. You're right, it did take me a week to obtain and it absolutely would be a shame to lose it on the first day.
Oh, and I didn't forget that you were the one who caught the fact that I had requested my seven books be sent to the Ann Arbor campus instead of ours. Good catch, Mr. Librarian!
So, thanks again and next week I will try to use my "library voice" when shouting at the computer/card catalog/New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, second edition.
Sincerely,
Jessica
1.09.2009
'Too' funny
In a recent lesson, I've started talking to one of my younger students about tonguing, using one's tongue to provide definition to a note, like saying the word "too". This student's mother sits in on her lessons, so she was there too.
Me: (to the girl) Do you remember what tonguing is?
Her mother: (under her breath) Something I got grounded for in high school...
Me: (to the girl) Do you remember what tonguing is?
Her mother: (under her breath) Something I got grounded for in high school...
1.02.2009
A hefty resolution
This entry has been weighing on the back of my mind since I first started this blog on the last day of June. Actually, I've been thinking about it for the last couple years. Which is a long time to think about something and not do anything about it. So, I'm going to finally get it out in the open, which I believe must be the first step in doing something about it.
I'm going to write my paper.
Yes, THE paper. And then I can finally get my degree and become Dr. Price. (That looks kind of weird to me as I type it...)
For those that don't know, I currently hold ABD ('all but dissertation', usually, but in this case, 'document'. Document = way shorter than dissertation) status at MSU. That means I've taken all the required courses, played all the required recitals, passed the hardest test I've ever taken in my life (that the professors said "set the gold standard" for the history comp, please forgive that tiny indulgence of vanity) and the only thing that stands between me and getting my doctorate is this paper.
Here's my plan.
I recently left my job at Spring Arbor. It was time to go; the commute was too long and there were too few flute students to justify the time it took to be there. I used to teach there on Fridays. Now, my Fridays are completely open. Fridays will now become my research, and eventually, my writing days. I think that if I can contain the mess that this researching and writing will become, I can handle it and it won't completely disrupt my life.
Today is the first Friday of 2009.
I am going to do this, and it will be done by 2010.
I'm going to write my paper.
Yes, THE paper. And then I can finally get my degree and become Dr. Price. (That looks kind of weird to me as I type it...)
For those that don't know, I currently hold ABD ('all but dissertation', usually, but in this case, 'document'. Document = way shorter than dissertation) status at MSU. That means I've taken all the required courses, played all the required recitals, passed the hardest test I've ever taken in my life (that the professors said "set the gold standard" for the history comp, please forgive that tiny indulgence of vanity) and the only thing that stands between me and getting my doctorate is this paper.
Here's my plan.
I recently left my job at Spring Arbor. It was time to go; the commute was too long and there were too few flute students to justify the time it took to be there. I used to teach there on Fridays. Now, my Fridays are completely open. Fridays will now become my research, and eventually, my writing days. I think that if I can contain the mess that this researching and writing will become, I can handle it and it won't completely disrupt my life.
Today is the first Friday of 2009.
I am going to do this, and it will be done by 2010.
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