Seeking Home for 2 Family Dogs

Attention readers in the greater Boston/New England area: This was passed along from a friend - please forward to anyone you know who might be interested!

Two gorgeous labs - trained - Seeking Home for Family Dogs Cookie and Coco

We are moving overseas in just 2 weeks. Unfortunately, I have still not been able to find a good home for Cookie and Coco . We're not able to take our beloved doggies with us and I've been desperately trying to find a home for both of them 'together'. They were raised together and pine without each other. The Lab rescue have already said that they would probably separate them, so this is my last resort. Recently I tried to take Coco out in my car alone and she TOTALLY refused to even get into the car without Cookie.....!!!! She absolutely pulled back on her haunches until Cookie was by her side. Both doggies are in great health, have been spayed and have ID chips implanted under the skin. Cookie turned 3 December 10th and Coco turned 3 April 1st. Cookie is my mellow-yellow, and just loves her tummy rubbed. Coco is adorably funny and lives for her "ball." She also loves the water...... Cookie loves lots of attention. Both doggies are loyal and love to walk. They have been raised with my 3 kids running around all over the place, and have survived Sammy's constant hugging and love of 'dress-up', so they are fantastic family dogs.T his is by far one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make,but under the circumstances I have no choice. Please, please forward these pics to all your friends. I want to find a great home for these fabulous doggies. They are just adorable and it's heartbreaking to let them go. In a perfect world, I hope that we could find someone local so that we can still keep in touch and visit them. *I pray that someone, somewhere can help us keep Cookie and Coco together, and love them just as much as we do.* Even if you can’t take them, please pass this around!

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Contact: Katherineat:kjmorris74[at]yahoo[dot]com

like daughter, like mother?

Kayley's been going through quite a growth spurt lately, both physically and developmentally. Apparently she's been quite the little stunt woman lately. She fell at daycare and bumped her head on a window sill. She took a digger in the driveway and scraped both her knees and her arm. Steph said she was standing on the couch (not allowed) when her dad came home, and K got so excited she just stepped off the couch.

Now, in my head I'm thinking 'like mother, like daughter,' but I didn't want to say it. Fortunately, Steph beat me to it: "Not only does the apple not fall far from the tree, the apple is still part of the tree."

Seriously, it's genetic. We come from a family of fallers. I'm not talking little stumbles, I'm talking careening down the stairs of the Bunker Hill monument, shattering knee caps (multiple times), breaking toes, backs, heels off shoes, cutting open faces. My sister's nick name in high school was "step funny." Clearly, Kayley takes after her mother.

But apparently she takes after her auntie, too. K's really coming in to her terrible two's. Last week she got mad at Steph so she left the room, got her blocks, and came back in the room to throw them. She didn't just grab what was available and chuck it, she chose her weapon. (Fortunately for Steph, she didn't choose one of her wood block puzzles!) "She has you in her!" Steph told me. Me? "Yes, you. She just gets this look, and I'm like, 'I know that look. That's Amy. I already grew up with this!'" My aunt confirmed.

The other day, Steph asked her, "Do you channel Auntie Amy?"

K's response? "No, mommy, you channel Auntie Amy." She has no idea what that means, but she knows how to say it with attitude.

Apparently my niece's inner bitch is Auntie Amy.

shoe-pinion

I popped into DSW this morning to buy a hat for my triathlon and, of course, walked out with a pair of shoes.

I bought the Franco Sarto Label in black. I like the brown better, but they didn't have my size, so when I got to my office I searched for them online. Apparently I got quite a deal this morning, because I paid $36, and the cheapest I can find them online is $50.


So here's my quandary: Do I buy the brown for $50? Do I stick with the black or return it? I'm not in love with this shoe, but I've been searching high and low for something more "professional" and this really fits the bill. I'd love a black peep-toe with a slight wedge, but I feel like Goldilocks searching for a four-leaf clover (how's that for a mixed metaphor?!). In other words, I thing the one that's "just right" is going to be next to impossible to find.


Help!

guerrilla girls

I'm teaching a course in the fall called Gender & Communication. In prepping my first lecture on the waves of feminism, I came across this, and had to share.

Take that, art snobs! Grrr.

insult + injury

Remember back in February when I announced I'd made the asinine decision to do a triathlon on my birthday? Well the time has almost come; the race is on Sunday. Honestly, it can't come soon enough; I want this mo-fo over and done with.

Yesterday I finally took the bike out for a 10.5 mile ride around Prospect Park, accompanied by my friend, colleague, gym buddy and life coach, Ruthie. Thank god for her, because if I'd been on my own I would have quit after about 20 min.

I was exhausted afterwards. I tried to take a nap but couldn't fall asleep. I slept awful last night. I've been going to occupational therapy for nerve entrapment in my right arm (I was losing feeling in my last 2 fingers while typing and decided that wasn't a good sign), so I have to sleep with this big blue soft brace on my right arm to keep me from bending it. I look like I'm going to do falconry or something; fortunately no one sees me sleeping! Anyways, it was bothering me last night, and I kept waking up with my left arm numb. (I clearly used to sleep with my right arm bent under my pillow, which was part of the problem, so now I'm just abusing the left side instead).

While waiting for the subway I caught sight of some one's iced coffee and remembered, a little too late, the one I'd left sitting on the kitchen counter. I had the forethought to brew a full pot of coffee last night, put it in the fridge, and make myself an icy caffeinated treat in a travel mug. I just forgot to take it with me.

When I walked into OT the first thing my therapist said was, "You look exhausted." "Great," I thought, "I do look as bad as I feel." Well I only felt worse when I saw how hot her other patient was. He was gorgeous and not wearing a wedding ring! If that wasn't bad enough, she made me do these exercises that I've decided are not actually therapeutic and are just designed to make me look like an ass. I pinch my thumb and first finger together, making an "OK" sign. Then I put my other fingers on my chin/cheek and rotate my hand upward so the thumb comes up to my eyebrow. Last week when doing them she told me I looked like Dame Edna.

After OT I went to the gym to give my tri-suit a try in the pool. I saw not one but two of my former students at the pool. They're both girls I like and have a good rapport with, but I prefer to see them when I'm not dressed like an elephant seal on its way to a luau. I felt the need to explain to the one student who was life guarding that I didn't always dress like this when doing laps. And then my cap ripped. For anyone that swims, you understand how frickin' annoying it is when you're about to get in the pool, and your cap rips. Fortunately my hair is short now so I could swim without one, but it also meant that I swallowed a lot of water because my hair kept getting in my mouth when I tried to breathe.

This day has got to get better.

Stoop Sale = Success!

Sunday my roommate Anne and I held a stoop sale. This is what you do when you live in an urban environment and don't have a yard, but need to say all your old crap. We got our stuff downstairs around 10 AM. I thought we'd be done around 1 PM. Not so. 8 hrs later, we both had sunburns, we've met some very interesting people, and we'd made about $300. Exhausting, but totally worth it, mainly because we got so much stuff out of our apartment!

I saw two pairs of my shoes find new homes (I only put out 2 pairs!), unlike this summer when I had a yard sale at my parents' house. Clearly there weren't enough suburban fashionistas around to appreciate my collection - I think I only sold 1 pair out of the whole lot!

I miss you all and hope you're happy where ever you walk.

locusts in the forecast?

Within 30 minutes, I witnessed the following events:

1. A woman crying and praying in the locker room at the gym*
2. A line at the ATM like a Black Friday run on the bank
3. A car backing up in Union Square because it was going the wrong way down a 1 way street**
4. An S train running on the B, D line.***

Is there an impending apocalypse I haven't heard about?

Notes:
* I walked by this woman when I was coming out of the shower, so I knew she had seen me. I was in the next row of lockers getting changed when I thought I heard her crying. Then she was mumbling, "I really need you now, I really need you now." I wasn't sure if she was praying until I heard her say, "I praise your name, Lord Jesus, I praise you." Being the godless bitch that I am, I immediately started mentally blogging about this incident. The only time anything religious comes up for me at the gym is when I think, "God, I am out of shape," or "Sweet Jesus, I can barely get my fat ass up these stairs." When I went to leave she was half-way into her gym clothes, but she was still crying, and I just felt like I would be a giant asshole if I left without saying something (we were the only 2 in the locker room). I just poked my head around the corner and asked if she was ok. She nodded her head. I asked if she was just having a bad day and if she wanted to talk or just be left alone. She said she was fine but appreciated me asking. I told her I hoped her workout was cathartic. I totally understand having such a bad day that you're crying in public, which only makes it worse. And while I'm not big on prayer, more power to her for going to the gym - my sad ass would have been home, in bed, with some ice cream.
** You don't back up in Union Sq.
*** It took me a minute to even figure out where an "S" train normally runs. It's the shuttle between Grand Central Station and Times Square. How it would even get onto a B,D line is beyond me. To give a Boston reference, this would be like seeing an orange line car on the C/green line.

it's not that bad

Sorry, I know I've been missing in action a bit. I don't think I've gone this long without posting since I started blogging. Not that you were holding your breath, but things have just been hectic, and I've been lame. No major updates, but lots of little ones hopefully coming your way in the near future.

In the mean time, I was going through some old pictures and thought I'd share. Our apartment is a bit of a mess at the moment - in the last 2 weeks one roommate left, a new one joined, there are a gazillion boxes in the living room, and we're having a stoop sale tomorrow so there's even more junk than usual hanging around. Fortunately, it's not as bad as this:

These are pictures from the week after my road trip, when I had landed back at my parents' house and was trying to get my stuff organized before I moved in with Lisa. This is what happens when you move as much as I do (I've stopped counting, but last time I checked I think it was about 9 times in 7 yrs). Not advised. I'm very happy that I have no plans to move in the next 6-12 months and even happier that I'm happy right where I am!

And that my room doesn't look like that.

help my friends get a free wedding cake!

Huge favor to ask!!! Cakes For Occasions is doing a contest for best proposal story for a free cake. My friend Stacey is getting married this fall, and she has one of the most amazing proposal stories I've ever heard. No matter how cynical I get about dating and relationships, this is one of the stories that keeps me going. Also, Stacey and I have known each other since we met doing drama years and years ago. We're not always super in touch, but she is an amazing friend and has always been there for me when I've needed her. She's a wonderful person and really deserves to get this cake!!!

Please vote for Stacey and Dave here... http://www.cakes4occasions.com/

If you don't know Stacey or her story, here it is:

My boyfriend (Dave) emailed my friend from college (Kyle) in order to make a plan to get me to New York City. My friend Kyle decided to take advantage of my obsession with John Stamos. I received a phone call from Kyle saying that his friend was producing a new musical on Broadway and that they were trying to secure John Stamos for the lead. A business dinner was planned, and Kyle asked his friend if I could come because of my love for Uncle Jesse. I was told as long as I behaved I could join. I spent the next two weeks getting ready for the dinner of my lifetime. My boyfriend dropped me off at South Station and I took the train to New York City one Saturday morning in May. I met Kyle at his apartment, watched a few YOUTUBE videos of John Stamos, and proceeded to get gussied up for this special dinner. We get to this posh restaurant in Tribeca, check in at the hostess stand, and the hostess whispers something to the other host. Kyle says "See, they said we are with the John Stamos party!” I smiled with excitement. We walk up to the table and there are eight people with menus in front of their faces. One menu falls down and it's my boyfriend's sister. I said, "What are you doing here?" I'm still clueless. All the menus come down and my parents, my sister, Dave's parents, Dave's brother, brother's fiance, and sister are all there. Dave comes out from the side and makes a beautiful speech, then gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him. All I could do was nod through my tears of joy. Everyone in the restaurant started cheering and clapping. After I put the gorgeous ring on my finger, kissed my fiancé, I turned to our table and said, "Does this mean I'm not meeting John Stamos??" Everyone laughed. I was so touched that our families came all the way to New York City to make this occasion one I will never forget.

French football hottie hits Houston St.

I came out of class tonight, and as I was crossing the street to the subway I walked passed 3 men in tee-shirts and gym shorts. I did a double-take - it was Thierry Henry! In case you don't know who he is, he's arguably one of the world's best soccer (football) players. He also happens to be one of my ex's favorite celebrities - he used to play for Arsenal, the ex's club. If the ex could meet one famous person, it would probably be monsieur Henry.

The taste of karma is so, so sweet. Thierry's pretty easy on the eyes, too.

guest blogger: li'l Z

Word. Li'l Z here, a.k.a. Amy's nephew Zachary. Auntie Aims' shizzle is all dizzled from the weekend, so I volunteered to hop in and update on the festivities. I'd like to give a shout-out to my big sister Kayley, who turns 2 today fo' reals. We had her party Saturday, and here's the shit that went down.

Here I am with my Auntie Amy. I'm so excited I could eat my hand! I haven't seen her since I was 6 days old, and I wanted to show her all the muscle I've packed on. My neck's still a little floppy, and I don't really dig tummy time, but I got mad skills with smilin' and drooling and shit.


Here's K with her buddy James. They're mad tight. And this is James' little brother, Connor:

We call him "Tank." I can't wait to start eating solids so I can bulk up like my man here.

My moms made the cake. It was sick! I couldn't eat it, obviously, 'cause I'm still on the b-milk and all, but I heard it was magically delicious.

Here's the whole fam - put yo' hands in the air for the Spindlers, whoop whoop!

The guest of honor, Miss K-monster clapping on the one's and two's with pops:

It was a big day! I napped through a lot of it, cause, y'know, little man's got to get his Zzz's and all, but I think everyone had a good time, especially the birthday girl. She got some kick-ass prezzies, too! Auntie Amy hooked her up with this play tent:




I cannot wait to get my crawl on so I can get some of that action.

Alright peeps, I need to do my business (a.k.a. eat, sleep and poop, not necessarily in that order). Happy b-day, sis!

love and naps,

li'l Z

kitchen tips

When multi-tasking in the kitchen, try not to use the pepper grinder in close proximity to your cup of coffee.

celeb baby brunch

Saturday morning I had a long over-due date with Peter, my best gay. We met for brunch at French Roast, a favorite cafe of ours on the edge of the West Village with a few outdoor tables that offer prime people-watching seats. French Roast with Peter has a special place in my heart. He took me there for the first time several years ago after we went to the Barney's sample sale (it was one of our first dates). As we were leaving Peter hooked his arm through mine and asked, "Do you think people look at us together and think, 'Poor girl, she doesn't realize her boyfriend is a flaming homosexual'?" I hope they do.

We snagged a seat outside, and within 5 minutes Peter had spotted Amanda Peet headed our way (he always sees celebrities - I think partially because he's always looking). She went into the restaurant and sat, with her daughter another celeb we couldn't identify, at the table on the other side of the window. I gawked momentarily and then returned my attention to Peter and my pomegranate mimosa. Towards the end of the meal Ms. Peet's daughter, who must be about 2 1/2, stood on the edge of the window sill and pressed herself against the glass. I waved; she giggled. Peter put his hands on the glass where hers were; she laughed as she pulled her hands away. We played this game on and off for the next 20 min or so. Amanda Peet must have thought we were either a) patient/sweet to be playing along or b) totally freaking nuts and thankful there was a pain of glass in between us and her child.

WTF week

Greetings!

It's WTF week over here. Let's review some of the weeks top WTF events:

1. 
   
   Baby daddy date - The (alleged) drug dealer and I had a date scheduled for Monday night. I really didn't want to go, but I didn't want to be mean. I spent all day thinking about how to get out of this; I implored my friends to put on their thinking caps and find me an excuse. Just as I was about to send some lame text about not feeling well, I got a Hail Mary: "Im not going to be able to make it tonight i have daughter till the morning, but i would like to see you soon ttyl!" Yes! but how did I get to the point in my life where I'm receiving text messages like this? WTF?


2. 
   
   Texted absence - Wednesday, 8:00 AM, my phone beeps. I wonder what Jane wants; I'm assuming it's Jane because I can't imagine who else could possibly be texting me at that hour, but no. It's a student telling me he's not going to be in class that morning. I gave my students my cell phone # last week when we went to see a film, because I didn't know what the theater looked like, where the ticket booth was, etc. In no way did I intend for them to use my number for any other reason. WTF?


3. 
   
   Facebooked ex - Wednesday, 3:30 PM, (it was a big day) I got a friend request from my high school ex-boyfriend. We had lots of up's and down's, but reconciled in early 2004. We haven't really kept in touch since. He's now bald, married, and has 2 month old twins. Why are you Facebooking me? You have 2 infants to be caring for! WTF?


4. 
   
   Return of SBDP - I haven't heard from the philosopher in over a month. We hung out, we made bread (we actually baked a loaf of bread, that's not a euphemism for something sexual), and that was it. I texted him the day after - bupkis. He called today. He left a message (no way was I answering that call) apologizing for being out of touch - lots of family drama, apparently - and asking if I wanted to get coffee. Did I mention it's been a month? WTF?

That's it so far for WTF week. Stay tuned for more WTF updates!

how I learned to be an auntie

wonder which aunt was babysitting this weekend...

best. e-mail. ever.

live with Borat?

Our roommate Edgar is getting married in August, so Anne and I need to find a new roommate. My friend Brian matched me up with Anne and did a fabulous job. We're hoping for repeat good luck. Yesterday, we both sent out e-mails to our contacts looking for potential interest. Anne's friend sent this response:


HI –

MY NAME IS PINO, I WANT TO BE NEW ROOMATES!

I LIKE WOMENS – THEY ARE PRETTY AND I CAN HELP WITH THE CHORE AND THE MOUSES. ALSO, I FAVOR THE SEX. HOPEFULLY WE MAY HAVE IT?

PLEASE, CONTACT ME WITH YOUR FOTOGRAPHS SO WE CAN BE GOOD ROOMATES TOGETHER. I CAN COOK NICE THINGS LIKE STEW AND ALSO TOMATOS.

KISSES, PINO

PS I HAVE 3 CHILDRENS THEY COME TO VISIT ON SATURDAYS BUT ONLY WITH A CORT-POINTED SUPERVISE. ONCE I DESTROY SOME PROPERTY BUT IT WAS ACCIDENT.

And then, several hours later, followed up with:


HIIT IS PINO AGAIN – SO DISAPPOINT THAT I DIDN’T HEARD FROM YOU YET.

PLEASE LET MY KNOW AT HER EARLIEST CONVENYENCE, THANK U, I AM READY FOR THE MOVING DATES.

Sadly, he doesn't really want to live with us, but it's probably for the best - I'd be wetting myself laughing all the time.

equal opportunity dater

I have a date for Monday night.

The last guy I dated had a master's in international relations and a research job at an Ivy League university. He might (but might not) be writing a book on the politics of sugar.

This new guy has an ex-wife and a 9-year-old daughter. He might (but might not) be a drug dealer.

Clearly, I don't discriminate when it comes to "types". Maybe I should start.

the perfect day

I had a rather amazing day. I woke up during the 9 o'clock hour thirsty, but without a hangover, despite my best efforts last night. I went for a 5.5 mile walk/run (emphasis on the walking) in Prospect Park and got a little sun on my arms. I promised myself that if I ran the whole time in the park - the last bit of which is cruelly uphill - I could get a massage, which I did. My back and shoulder have been killing me, plus me thinks there might be some carpal tunnel issues arising because I keep getting numbness and tingling in my right forearm and hand - occupational hazard of academia, right up there with paper cuts. The massage was fantastic.

Afterwards I went for a little walk in my 'hood. There's a store that I keep wanting to go into but it's always closed when I go by. I ran by it's sister store this morning and saw a really cute pair of sandals, I've been on the hunt for new sandals, so I decide to try the one closer by. Jackpot! I love this store. They have super-cute stuff, totally my style, and reasonable prices. I got a tank top, a sundress, and a pair of sandals.

On my way home I got an iced coffee to round out the day. Now I'm going to pretend to do some work for a few hours until Anne gets home. She went home this weekend, and I've been going through withdrawal. She texted saying she was going to need to unwind, so we have a hot couch date planned for tonight with homemade sangria and guacamole.

I've been alone most of the day, but I was at a BBQ with my sociology peeps last night (that resulted in not 1 but 2 more facebook friends - score!), so it was fine chillin' on my own. And with Anne coming back tonight, it just might be a perfect day.

Hope everyone had a great long weekend, maybe even a perfect day!

no comment

No comments on that text message? Really? No one has anything to say about that? I forwarded it to a few friends and all pretty much responded the same way: "Ewwwww" or "Ew ew ew." It is also one of the funniest text messages I've ever gotten.

Jane and I were thinking up hypothetical replies, because, really, how does one reply to that?

I had, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Jane had, "How calories for faking it?" which I think is really good.

Any other thoughts? I promise I'll credit you in the book I write someday when this academic thing doesn't work out.

not-so-HBT update

After not responding to the "urgent" voicemail that HBT left a week ago Wednesday, I thought I was done with him. Alas, HBT must think otherwise, because yesterday I got this text message*:

Fun fact: orgasms burn 200 calories a pop!

Fascinating. I'll be sure to log them into the exercise journal I just signed up for at Fit Day,

*Note: Now, I've been known to send an inappropriate text message or two, usually after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, but just in case you had an urge to give HBT the benefit of the doubt, know that a) he sent this text message at 7:30 PM, and b) he doesn't drink.

not hot, not cool

A few weeks ago I went to a Kentucky Derby party. I'm sad that I've yet to find another place to wear the hat, but I'm confident that something will crop up.

The party was 5-7, open bar. Needless to say, by the time we were leaving, my whistle was sufficiently wet. We ran into some guys on the way out, and the hat apparently impressed one of them because we started chatting. The details of the conversation are fuzzy, but we exchanged numbers. He was entered into my phone has "Hot Brown Tom", because, well, he was hot, he was brown, and his name was Tom. Creative, I know.

We texted back and forth. Sunday night he called. He's 25 - strike one. I don't know why I've been meeting so many toddlers lately. Gotta stop wading in the kiddie pool. When I asked what he did, he said he majored in computer science but was now "taking classes" in biology, psychology, etc. at LaGuardia Community College. Um, that sounds like finishing you bachelor's to me - strike two. He lives in Queens - strike three. I'm not crossing boroughs for this kid. And just in case I had any thoughts about giving him a chance:

HBT: I can read minds.
Me: Oh yeah?
HBT: Yeah, I know what you're thinking about right now.
Me: Oh really, what's that?
HBT: You're picturing me naked.
Me: Wrong. I'm playing online solitaire.

While we were on the phone I still said I'd let him take me out, but I was busy all week, and he was away for the weekend. I was hoping all was forgotten, but the following Wednesday he left a voicemail. It was marked urgent - I didn't even know you could do that. I thought maybe the red exclamation point meant my voicemail was full. Nope, HBT had to tell me immediately:

Hey, someone randomly told me there was a super hot girl at this number, so you should call me. It's Tom. Lay-tah.

Yes, Tom, later. Later than never.

classroom diversity

Yesterday was the first day of class for my summer Sex & Gender course. Up until Friday around 4 PM I wasn't sure if it was going to be canceled because of low enrollment. I'm really suprised at the amount of diversity in my classroom.

I have students who have and have not taken other sociology courses.

I have an economics major and a film major.

I have a student from Israel and a student from Venezula.

I have a man and a woman.

I have two students.

There are 4 still technically enrolled, so hopefully the other 2 will show up tomorrow, or it's going to be an intense 6-week independent study.

sponge bob douche pants

Remember the philosopher? My roommate insists on calling him "spongey" after the microwave incident, and that nickname has morphed into Sponge Bob Douche pants. And not because he lives in a pineapple under the sea. Let me explain.

We met on the Saturday, he called on the Monday, and we had our first date on the Wednesday. To be totally honest, I thought it was going to be a train wreck. Instead, it was great. We talked non-stop, no awkward silences. Since then we've hung out a few times, including sober dates. Last Tuesday we were supposed to go see a taping of the Daily Show. Unfortunately we got cut - we were the last people to not make it in. The good news is we got bumped to a VIP list for another date. I joked that if he didn't want to see me again he could find a better date with the VIP seats. At least I thought I was joking.

We had some drinks, had some dinner, and came back to my place and hung out. He left around 11PM. I was disappointed, and he saw that, but assured me that he'd be "all mine" at the weekend. He also asked when I was going to make him dinner. And then....

...Nothing. I don't hear a word. All week.

Sunday - 3 in the afternoon - I get a text:

SBDP: How's life?

I respond 1.5 hrs later (I went for a run, then needed to shower, etc. I didn't want to text when I didn't have time to talk, because, you know, like a jackass I thought we might have a conversation.)

Me: Hello there. Good. What've you been up to?
SBDP: Getting caught in family/work crossfire, forgetting mother's day, etc. Now being happy that subway's screwy so I have an excuse not to leave my apartment. You? Finished w your other class?
Me: Sounds like fun. Finished class just need to finish grading. Not much else. Baking. Subbed mashed avocado for oil & it seems to have worked.
SBDP: Yum

That's it. That's all I get, so after about 30 min I decided to throw out some bait and see if he nibbled.

Me: So do we get to make bread or hummus or something any time soon or are you still holding out for a better Daily Show date?
SBDP: Yes, let's make bread! That sounds like fun. Gave to be during the week - important pub trivia tonight
Me: Well let me know when you can squeeze me in
SBDP: Tuesday
Me: sounds good. Good luck tonight
SBDP: Thanks

Okay, so let's recap. You didn't text me for 5 days, and then I got a "how's life?" That's the best you could do? Really? And when you finally decided to text me, you did it on a day you knew you couldn't hang out. Then I had to ask you if you wanted to do something. Awesome. I love scheduling my life around guys who can't be bothered to make time for me.

I know I sound psycho, and I hate it. If I overheard my own conversation, I'd make fun of me relentlessly. I hate that I finally start to have feelings for someone, and he pulls a total dick move. I've read He's Just Not that into You. I've seen the movie. I get it, and my self-esteem isn't so crippled that I'm going to throw myself at someone just because he's got a master's and can bake.

So we're hanging out tomorrow. We're making the stupid fucking bread. I know I have to leave my attitude at the door or it's not worth it, so this is me getting my bitch on and getting it all out.

Oh, and don't worry, there are other dudes in my boy-toy box. Updates on the horizon.

caution: avacado hazard

I have 2 ripe avocados at home, and I've been trying to think of what to do with them (besides guacamole - what, do you think I'm a culinary moron?). Totally not thinking about my soon-to-expire avocados, I was reading the NYT and clicked on the health section, where I saw this:

This is the way to cut and pit an avocado. I saw it on a cooking show years ago, and have tried it several times. It's not as easy as it looks. Last summer I was trying to do this. Because there's part of my brain that's not clinically retarded, I put the avocado on the counter. You don't want to slam a knife into something that you're holding! But I wasn't succeeding, and so I picked the avocado up. This is clearly where the other part of my brain that is defective took over. It was a bad move. I tried to stab the pit with the tip of the knife. Failing to do this, the knife slipped off the side of the pit, passed through the soft, ripe fruit, and sliced 2 of my fingers. It was categorically not good.

So let this be a warning. I'm thinking I should write the NYT and tell them they should edit that picture, or at least give a warning! (C'mon, coffee cups have to warn that the beverages they contain may be hot.) I'm also thinking I might puree the avocado and substitute it for oil when I make chocolate zucchini bread tonight. And I'm thinking I'll use a butter knife to cut the avocado.

say it with cupcakes

Inspired by my previous work combining statistics and baking, I made another cupcake mosaic* for my friend's dissertation proposal defense last week:

Unfortunately his advisor had the flu, so he didn't actually get to defend, but rescheduled for today. So as not to ruin the moment, I made him lick the check mark off the box next to ABD**. Someone suggested we freeze the PhD cupcake and save it for his dissertation defense, kind of like the top layer of a wedding cake. I've never really understood that tradition - if I want cake on my one year wedding anniversary, I'll just buy cake. Similarly, one's dissertation defense can be anti-climactic enough without adding a freezer-burned cupcake to the mix.

* Okay, calling it a "cupcake mosaic" may be a bit of an overstatement. It's no Lincoln/Obama, but you've got to start somewhere.

**For definitions of made up acronyms, see here.

mint julep anyone?

I am so working this hat into my weekly wardrobe.

star student

It's the end of the semester (thank Buddah, Christ, Allah, L. Ton Hubbard - whoever's listening). My undergrad stats lab is over, and last night was the second-to-last (penultimate if you will, I just don't get to use that word often enough) class for adult students. These last two weeks students are doing presentations of the research projects they've spent the semester designing.

Last night, one of my students off-handedly remarked during her presentation that she's from a very political family. (This was relevant because she wanted to study the efficacy of laws ennacted against human trafficking in Ghana - you know, like most of my students.) How political? This is her aunt!!!

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What the hell is this woman doing in my Social Science Research Methods class?!?

my happy place

I think I'm usually a pretty positive person, but sometimes it's hard to stay "up." The reality of the state of the academic job market has become all to clear lately, with commentator types saying things like, "Graduate education is the Detroit of higher learning." (Can we get a bailout?!?) NYU's up to its union busting shenanigans again, so the state of my funding for next year is highly uncertain. Then there's the fact that the last fellowship I applied for got canceled - yup, budget cuts turned 2 assistantships into 0, glad I spent the time and effort to complete that application - and one of the classes I'm scheduled to teach this summer (a.k.a. 1/2 my income for the next 3 months) is on the chopping block because there's not enough enrollment. If the swine flu doesn't get me, poverty just might.

Luckily, my sister's kids are SO frickin' cute, no matter how pissy I'm feeling, looking at these always melts my cold, bitchy heart:

philosophy lesson

Saturday night I went to a party at a friend's place and spent most of my night courting a philosopher. His bio is fairly impressive: His dad was an astrophysicist at Princeton. He majored in philosophy at Tufts, then got a master's in philosophy and international relations at the London School of Economics. After a few years in Australia as a research assistant, he moved to NYC. He has a post-doc at Yale. He has a post-doc - that's short for post-doctorate - but no doc. Jane (NYU pal) and I wondered how you could do that - we clearly got it all wrong going through the doctoral process. So how'd he do it? It basically fell into his lap. He seems to have a pretty charmed life.



Example? I was talking about my career plans, or lack there of, and said I could see myself as the director of a non-profit but realized that "director" isn't really an entry level position. "Well," he said, "funny you should say that, because I just ended up becoming the CFO of this non-profit." Ended up.



Uh-huh.



We were all standing around talking, and on the topic of what I can't remember, someone said, "No one really likes cooking or cleaning." Philosopher piped up - "I do." My ears perked up. What type of cooking? Baking. What do you like to bake? Pies. Do you make your own crust? That's the best part. What type of pies? Strawberry rhubarb. Witnesses say my eyes lit up. Strawberry rhubarb is my favorite, but I've never made it because A) pie crusts are a bitch, especially when you don't exactly have the counter space to be rolling out dough, and B) I'm intimidated by rhubarb. It's one of those things I'd get into the the kitchen and then have no idea what to do with. This has happened to me before - with kale, with leeks, with a celery root. I have to call more epicurious friends or look online. Well, this is going to be my year.

I then turned the conversation to cleaning. He likes doing the dishes. (Perfect or gay? such a fine line...) I asked what he did when the sponge started to get a little ripe and left your hands with that funny smell. He microwaves them frequently so doesn't have that probably. How frequently? Once a week - no, more than that. For how long? Well, it depends, but for a really good steam 4 minutes. (Remember this, it'll come up again shortly.)



I can't say this guy was flirting with me, because I was making serious effort with the conversation, but he continued talking to me. I'm not sure that this is someone I'm actually interested in, he might be too boring, but maybe we can have brunch and talk pastry cutters and lattice crusts. At the time, however, I was intrigued (or maybe just drunk) and basically forced my number into his phone. The end of the night went something like this:

Me: Maybe I'll see you around the institute.
Him: Do you go there frequently?
Me: No, not at all actually. Alternatively, we could just go for coffee or a drink.
Him (slightly awkwardly): Sure.
Me: Why don't you take my number?
[pulls out iPhone]
End scene.

Fast forward to Sunday night. I've spent all day on the couch with my roommate (literally - we didn't even get out of our pajamas). I've watched a YouTube video on how to fold a fitted sheet. (The philosopher said he could and referenced said video. Apparently he had a lot of free time for perfecting domestic skills while in Australia.) I had just finished a sink full of dishes and figured, Why not nuke the sponge?

[4 minutes later]

"Anne, do you smell something burning?" Apparently 4 minutes is way too much time for disinfecting a sponge in the microwave. 30 seconds probably would have sufficed.

Lesson learned.

Helen LeClair (née Aneila Procop) 1913-2009

I’d spent a lot of time with my grandmother in the past few months, but I was saying to a friend how I wished I’d seen her one last time. My friend said sometimes it’s easier to handle loss if you can focus on what you’re grateful for, rather than what you regret, so I’d like to share some of the things I’m grateful for.

I’m grateful for my Grammy. In many ways she was the quiet matriarch of the family. I’m so fortunate – we all are – that we had Grammy in our lives for so long. Most of my friends lost their grand parents 10 even 20 years ago. I am so lucky that I had so much time with her. I was constantly seeing my grandmother in new ways, getting to know different aspects of her life, her personality, her love. I know a large part of my changing perspective on her was an artifact of me growing up, but I also believe that in many ways my grandmother became more alive before she passed.

We all know Helen had a special spunk. She was what one might call “a hot ticket.” If I had called her that she might have playfully slapped me and told me I was being fresh. But, after a brief pause, she would lean over, put her hand on my arm, and in a secretive whisper say, “I like it when you’re fresh.”

My grandfather often told me the story of the night he and Grammy met at a USO dance. One part of the story I didn’t hear until very recently was their first conversation. When Grampy finally got up the courage to go over and speak to Grammy, he said he’d been watching her all night. Helen’s reply. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Well, I’m grateful he didn’t, because the beginning of that love story is the beginning of Helen for all of us. The way my grandparents spoke of one another, treated one another, loved one another, is not something entirely of this world. They have given me a model for love, friendship and partnership that I’m not sure I can ever achieve, but for which I will always strive. Grammy always talked to me about her love for Bob and her children. Being a wife and a mother brought joy to her life. I am so grateful for having been able to bask and grow and share in that joy.

Another favorite story of mine was one she told of Mrs. Zartarian next door. They were friendly for many years, and one day she told Grammy she had a favor to ask. Mrs. Zartarian had lost her sister, and Grammy had lost her brother, and Mrs. Z said she would be very honored if she could call Helen her sister. And so it was that a Polish woman and an Armenian woman became their own type of family. Grammy taught me the many meanings and shapes of love, friendship and family.

One of the things I am most grateful for is my Grammy’s sense of humor. One her 95th birthday last summer she expressed to me the importance of humor. She said she had to laugh – if you couldn’t laugh, you should just dig a hole and crawl in it. A few months later when things were getting a little tougher, I reminded her of what she had said. “I said that?” she asked me. And when I assured her she did, she said my grandfather must have been slipping her some of that Polish vodka.

Grammy really was the quiet matriarch. She held on for a long, LONG time. She stayed on this Earth to make sure everyone she loved was okay, and when she finally felt she had done all that she could, she let go. She’s still watching us. She’s still with us. A little piece of Helen lives on inside each one of us. And if we can all be a little more like her in our own lives, we’ll all be better people for it.

Grammy worked for 95 years, and it’s her time to rest. So please, Grammy, sleep. Sleep deep. Rest. You did so much work, and we are your product. For that we are all grateful; I hope we make you proud and do justice to your memory.

Of all things, I am most grateful that I had to opportunity to get to know her, not just as my grandmother, but as a person. Not just as Grammy, but as Helen.

I love you.

1 hot ticket!

Couple of things about this photo:

1. Grammy is 50 in this picture. She was a looker!
2. Check out the size of that Cosmo! It's like 2'x3'. And is that Issue #1?
3. On the back of this picture is the caption: "Mommy's reading!" Apparently that's what my dad and Uncle John said because they'd never seen her sitting and reading before. She had four kids - 15, 13, 11 & 9 - she didn't have time!
   

hello, good-bye

There was clearly some sort of cosmic connection between little Zachary and his great-grandmother Helen. Helen held off until after Zachary was born to pass, and Zachary came to us a week early because it was Helen's time, and he knew we would need some extra love to help us through it. Just like Kayley waited until I got home (over a week late) to make her appearance, Grammy waited until I was home to leave us.

Many of you knew (or knew of) and loved Grammy. She passed away quietly Friday morning. The family is having a small private service tomorrow morning. It will include a ginger ale toast to Helen (it was her favorite beverage). She will be buried with her purse, which she carried with her literally til the day she died. She was like the Queen with that purse; it never left her side. Even at holidays she carried it with her at all times, no matter how much we tried to reassure her that none of us would steal it. It was a handy accessory, good for holding using tissues and storing extra dessert wrapped in a napkin (who needs Tupperware?!). To guide her body to rest, her purse will be stocked with the essentials - toothpicks, a plastic rain bonnet, a flash light, and love notes from best friend and husband of 65 years. A few tissues will be tucked up her sleeve, just in case.

For a brief look at some of Helen's best moments, look back with me at her and Bob, Grammy on the phone, her amazing marriage, her 95th birthday, old photos, and her the amazing humor she kept right up until the end.

He's here!!!

My nephew, Zachary Scott Spindler, arrived yesterday at 2:43 PM. He's 8lbs, 2oz, all healthy. Mom and Dad are really enjoying him, and I'm going home to meet him tomorrow.

Those Spindler babies are born with dark hair (so was my sister). I love the slightly annoyed look new babies have, like they're thinking, "Put me back!" How much does he look like his big sister?

Only she had more hair.

covariance cupcakes

My stats class had their lab test today, and last week I thought of a way to combine two of my greatest loves - geeking out & baking - into one sweet treat for my students. Behold:

Their extra credit was to correctly identify the formula represented in this cupcake mosaic.

Can anyone identify the formula on the middle cupcake?

I'm a decent baker and geek, but I think I'll leave the cake decorating to my sister.

sequence of events

Bad decisions are can really sneak up on you, especially when there's alcohol involved.

One minute you're playing wiffleball, vanquishing your middle school gym class demons with not 1 but 2 home runs and the catch of a fly ball.

Next thing you know you're celebrating your 16-4 victory with your teammates at a cowboy-themed bar, playing flip-cup, and reuniting with a girl that you worked with 8-10 yrs ago at a swim club.

And before the night ends you have plans for a date with a 23-year-old paralegal from Moldova whose name you can't remember but whom you're pretty sure lives with his mom.

The next morning you wake up with an unhappy stomach and a flimsy hope that you incorrectly entered your number into his phone.

Oh, bad decisions, you get me every time!

retail rant

Why do some people seem so put out when you ask them to do their job? I was at Sephora yesterday and the sales woman was positively gobsmacked that I was asking for assistance with makeup. You would have thought I'd asked her to sell me lamb chops and a carburetor. Do me a favor, sweetie - when you leave work, look at the name of the store where you're employed. Before going into work the next day, google your workplace so you're not caught off guard when someone tells you she's chronically dissatisfied with her eyeliner.

everyone should have a LBD

Me: I realized when I was doing laundry yesterday that I'm 2 for 2 on the little black cotton dress I bought for New Year's.

Peter: Whadaya mean?

Me: I've gotten lucky both times I've worn it. I'm going to have to save it for special occasions!

Peter: Can I borrow it?

what happened to the good 'ol flu?

Saturday I woke up not feeling so well, and by Monday I was sick enough to decide I needed to see a doctor. She said it was probably the flu, but if I didn't get better or got worse I should come back.

Well, I got worse - a lot worse. Tuesday I was too sick to watch t.v. (yeah, try and wrap you're head around that one). Wednesday is was back to the doctors. She gave me a bag of saline to start getting me rehydrated and was going to send me packing with some antibiotics, but felt some more tests were needed. Jane, a real hospital vet, was nice enough to come with me to the ER, where I spent 5 1/2 hrs getting 2 more litres of saline, IV antibiotics, a CT scan, and ended up leaving with the exact same drugs the first doctor was going to prescribe. Those saline bags are liquid magic! (And I'm sure my insurance company will reflect that in their billing.)

The final diagnosis I was handed down? Colitis. Totally non-specific, just a general inflammation of the large intestine, probably caused by something I picked up in my travels (although no one else got anything and I was eating and drinking the exact same things, so I'm a little confused). So after feeling like shit since Saturday, I'm finally on the mend. The symptoms aren't disappearing quite as quickly as I'd hope, but I just need to be a little more patient.

Here's a list of foods I should avoid:

• alcohol
• caffeine
• carbonated beverages
• dairy products, if lactose intolerant
• dried beans, peas, and legumes
• dried fruits, berries, fruits with pulp or seeds
• foods containing sulfur or sulfate
• foods high in fiber, including whole-grain products
• hot sauce, pepper
• meats
• nuts, crunchy nut butters
• popcorn
• products containing sorbitol (sugar-free gum and candies)
• raw vegetables
• refined sugar
• seeds
• spicy foods, sauces

Wouldn't it be easier to just list what I can eat? It's the BRAT diet - bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. I remember it well from my childhood. Although I think it's weird that greasy foods aren't mentioned. Going by this list, you'd think french fries were perfectly okay. It's all the healthy stuff that'll shred your intestines, which made me think that maybe all those morbidly obese people I saw on Oprah today just have colitis.

Today's menu has been pretty exciting:

breakfast - 1 piece of toast, 1/2 a Vitamin Water
snack - water
lunch - unsweetened applesauce with cinnamon
snack - water
dinner - white rice made with chicken broth, ginger ale
snack - 1/2 a banana, water

I know, I know, I got a little gourmet with dinner. I couldn't help myself. Honestly, I'm just so surprised at feeling something akin to hunger for the first time in 5 days. Bring on the rice.

'cui bono'

Been a tad under the weather this week (all those exciting travels catching up with me), so Monday night I sent out an e-mail to my students canceling class Tuesday morning. I got this response, and it put such a smile on my face. Keep in mind that I teach a statistics lab.

Amy,

Thank you so much! I hope that everything is alright with you, and want you to know that I love hanging out with you every Tuesday morning, but I want to thank you for canceling lab tomorrow. I turn 21 today, and now I can celebrate guilt-free.

You've made my day, Amy.

S

Glad I could make someone's birthday dreams come true, just by feeling like crap.

Barcelona is...

Barcelona is amazing. It's sunny and open. Barcelona feels much less hectic than, say, London or New York. It's a sangria and tapas wonderland.

Barcelona is also under construction.

Luckily the fountain was still pretty.

I think the drape in the front showing what the cathedral is supposed to look like is a nice touch.

La Sagrada Familia has been under construction for over 100 years. It's not like they're redoing it, it's never been finished. I'm all for splendor, but at what point do you just say "screw it" and move on to something else. Gaudi wanted this to be a tribute a Jesus - a dude that hung out in sandals. Don't you think he'd rather the money be used to build a community center or couple hundred soup kitchens? Tapas kitchens?

international eats

I'm back, I'm jet-lagged, and I'm wondering how long I can milk that excuse. I haven't left my apartment in 2 days, but I did manage to shower today and even have some dinner on the stove. Anything I eat, however, is a fantastic disappointment from Barcelona. Once my brain solidifies again I hope to have something witty, or at the very least intelligible, to say but until then, I present you with some Spanish food porn.

jet setting academic?

Disclaimer: Please accept that my current travel plans are not statistically representative of a) my life or b) grad students more generally (in the humanities and social sciences at least, I've no idea what goes on in those buildings with lab coats and latex gloves and safety goggles).

I'm barely back from Mexico - I've stopped peeling, but I still have "tan lines" (a.k.a. extra freckles) - and we clearly went at a good time. The State Department has issued a travel advisory for south of the border. Apparently the war on drugs isn't going so well down there. Fortunately there were no shoot-outs in sight during my trip, just postcard vistas:

I've barely mentioned Mexico, I know, but there's not much to say. It was gorgeous. I didn't check e-mail or turn on my cell phone for 5 days. Everyday my only responsibility was deciding whether I wanted a Miami Vice or Banana Monkey during happy hour (the latter consistently won out - it was a blended beverage that incorporated coconut, banana, chocolate, and rum - yum!). There was a lovely woman named Teddy in a nearby condo who would come by everyday around 2pm and ask if we needed an "attitude adjustment," by which she meant joining her to smoke a blunt. Speaking of which, on the cab ride home the guys were "fake" bargaining with the driver to see what they could get for selling the ladies on the black market, and drugs got mentioned, and he whipped out a small baggie and was like, "coca?!" Why thank you, Paco, but no. Even though Cancun is basically Florida with less old people and more Mexicans, and even if I was interested in drugs, I've seen Broke Down Palace - I don't even go near people that look like they're on drugs when I travel abroad (back home is a different story - they're my friends!). We stuck with the booze. Here I am with my darling Peter - our host for the trip - enjoying one last Corona (draft!) at the aeropuerto:

Peter's goal was to have his ethnicity challenged when he presented his passport on the way home. I think he achieved his goal.

Now I'm off again! I'm returning to my old stomping grounds of Cambridge, UK - home of many good times and an equal number of bad decisions (they're not mutually exclusive categories afterall). We've got a grad student conference over the weekend that's paid for by school, so my friends and I decided to take advantage of cheap European travel fares and hop over to the continent for 3 days in Barcelona, Spain.

I'm making grad school sounds way too good.

she's bAAAAAaaack

Who saw Idol last night? I think we can say with some certainty that Paula is officially off the wagon. Woo hoo!



And holy Botox batman - nothing above her nose was moving. She was looking awfully "taught" in the eye region.

annoying riddle

What's annoying?

A student who never comes to class

What's more annoying?

A student who never comes to class, and then e-mails you to say she's having trouble with the class

What's more annoying than that?

A student who never comes to class, and then e-mails you to say she's having trouble with the class, so you set up a meeting with her, and she's 25 minutes late, with no apology or anything.

And what's even more annoying than that?

A student who never comes to class, and then e-mails you to say she's having trouble with the class, so you set up a meeting with her, and she's 25 minutes late, with no apology or anything, and then when you go to tell your friend about it (because you'd been complaining to her earlier), she says, "Oh yeah, I met your student. She was hanging by the front desk and the admin wasn't there, so I asked her if she needed any help, and she said, 'Yeah, I'm looking for Amy Michel*.' And I said, 'Who?', and he said, 'The girl that teaches the stats lab.' So I said, 'oh, you mean Amy LeClair?' And she said, 'Yeah, her.'"

*There's a slight possibility that, because my middle name is Michelle, it gets chopped off on some forms and comes up as 'Amy Michel.' But not on my syllabus. Or the course website.

season 8 Idol chatter

Don't worry, no spoilers in this post b/c I found out last night my sister is still on Hollywood Week!! Catch up, yo!

So I've been silent on the Idol issue so far this season, but last night was too much. As a general comment on this season, I'm seriously underwhelmed. (Speaking of, when does the new season of Project Runway start? I need me a Michael Kors fix, and my one Marshall's shirt isn't cutting it.) These first few rounds have been more boring than last season's spring line at the Gap. Seriously, the contestants open their mouths to start signing, and I'm falling asleep before they hit a key change.

Then there are the judges. I love Simon - he can do no wrong (except, maybe, for the thinly veiled homophobic jokes). Randy, dawg, we've got to talk. Now Stacey and Clinton always tell us that patterns and accessories to should be proportional to the size of the women wearing them - big lady, big purse; small lady, small print. I try to remember this everyday. But I'm not sure this maxim holds true for men, Mr. Jackson, so just cause you're a bigger dude with a body-by-Grimace does not mean that you should or can wear over-sized accessories. You know exactly what I'm talking about - that watch is the size of the actual sun. It's ridiculous.

Paula should be congratulated on her sobriety - she's been remarkably unremarkable this season. Although last night she kept demonstrating her steal trap memory, which makes me think she might be snorting Ritalin. But even if she is, that's the least of the show's problems. She might also want a new make-up artist as last night I think her blush actually started inside her nostrils before creeping up her cheekbones.

And for the love of GOD we've got to get rid of this kid:

He looks like he got caught in the middle of a bitch fight at Forever 21. There's no other way to explain his "style".

Clearly I will be glued to the TV tonight for the results. Anyone know how they're running the wild card round?