My wonderful spouse packed his backpacking gear in his Vapor Trail last night, in preparation for his trip to the Rockies Ruck this weekend.
When I saw him in that backpack, I slowly turned green.
Because of some work commitments, I can't go to the Ruck this year, and that does not make me happy. However, when I think about it, I just repeat my mantra: "Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming."
It's odd that I've been having spring breaks as long as I can remember. Since I was 5 years old, I've been in school, either teaching or being taught, and spring break is a staple of the school experience. So much so, that when I first met Footslogger, who is not an educator, I cracked him up by asking "So what are you doing for spring break?"
I guess not everyone gets spring break. So sad for you guys!
I'm still waiting with bated breath to find out if any of my poetry gets published... will let you know when I find out.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Sick to my Stomach
When my younger brother was very small, he used to say "I've got a headache in my tummy."
That's what's going on with me now, except that the headache is in my tummy, my head, my bones, etc.
Got up at 5:15 this morning to take someone to the airport. Have eaten out almost every night this week, with candidates coming in. Stressing over the timing of the search and whether or not it will be successful and how to make everyone happy (I know, I can't) and how to get all my work done while still chairing the search committee.
Impossible, I know.
On the bright side, we have two (and hopefully, with the funding gods on our side, three) extremely qualified candidates coming in. Bright hopes all around. But it sure is a lot of work getting them here and getting them through their meetings, job talks, etc.
Longing for spring break . . . .
That's what's going on with me now, except that the headache is in my tummy, my head, my bones, etc.
Got up at 5:15 this morning to take someone to the airport. Have eaten out almost every night this week, with candidates coming in. Stressing over the timing of the search and whether or not it will be successful and how to make everyone happy (I know, I can't) and how to get all my work done while still chairing the search committee.
Impossible, I know.
On the bright side, we have two (and hopefully, with the funding gods on our side, three) extremely qualified candidates coming in. Bright hopes all around. But it sure is a lot of work getting them here and getting them through their meetings, job talks, etc.
Longing for spring break . . . .
Friday, February 10, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Melted Honey
I found this rough draft of a poem in last year's composition book.
Made of stone
Sheathed in silk
Atop stiletto heels.
Not a sign of feeling escapes
Nor a breath of joy or despair.
A picture of perfect elegance
Made hard by those feelings now bricked up:
Life's unfailing plagues
Of sorrow and triumph and pain and elation.
Some force within me longs
To ruffle the feathers,
To mar the silken surface.
To tap the hardened stone
And see the honey flow forth.
Made of stone
Sheathed in silk
Atop stiletto heels.
Not a sign of feeling escapes
Nor a breath of joy or despair.
A picture of perfect elegance
Made hard by those feelings now bricked up:
Life's unfailing plagues
Of sorrow and triumph and pain and elation.
Some force within me longs
To ruffle the feathers,
To mar the silken surface.
To tap the hardened stone
And see the honey flow forth.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Face Plant
Lest you think that I have some new kind of ivy or rhododendron growing from my visage, here's the gruesome story.
On Sunday last, I went with my caretaking spouse, a doctor from the clinic where said spouse works, and the wonderful young woman the doctor is currently dating for a day of skiing at Snowy Range Ski Area just outside of beautiful Laramie, Wyoming.
The powder was deep, it snowed all day long, the company was fantastic, the roads weren't too bad. We had a fantastic time. Except for me, on my first run down Ogalalla.
I'm not the greatest skiier, let me assure you up front. I'm decent, but I'm usually cautious. On Sunday, however, I had some kind of wildness boiling in my blood that prompted me to say, "Sure! Let's do Ogalalla first!" Ogalalla isn't bad, but it's steeper than I usually do on my first run of the day. Let's just say that I need that slow first run of the day in order to work out the kinks, remind my body of what it takes to keep control while sliding down a hill on wooden planks, etc.
Fiberglass, whatever.
I didn't quite get that slow first run. Instead, I went screaming down Ogalalla and ended up with my face planted firmly in a snow bank about half way down. That's after spending a few minutes careening down the hill, way out of control, a few seconds flailing wildly, and a few miliseconds spreading my gear across the mountainside in a yard sale, just missing a snowboarder by inches.
When I pulled my face out of the snow, I noticed the blood.
Noses bleed a lot when they've been slammed into the side of a mountain. Luckily, my compatriots came along (they were behind me -- was I trying to show off? Perhaps, but that is the story of another post) with advice and Kleenex. Lie back, shove this kleenex up your nose, don't worry about the blood streaming down the side of your face and onto your new skiing outfit....
I don't want you think that it ruined my day. It didn't. Just slowed me down. A lot.
On Sunday last, I went with my caretaking spouse, a doctor from the clinic where said spouse works, and the wonderful young woman the doctor is currently dating for a day of skiing at Snowy Range Ski Area just outside of beautiful Laramie, Wyoming.
The powder was deep, it snowed all day long, the company was fantastic, the roads weren't too bad. We had a fantastic time. Except for me, on my first run down Ogalalla.
I'm not the greatest skiier, let me assure you up front. I'm decent, but I'm usually cautious. On Sunday, however, I had some kind of wildness boiling in my blood that prompted me to say, "Sure! Let's do Ogalalla first!" Ogalalla isn't bad, but it's steeper than I usually do on my first run of the day. Let's just say that I need that slow first run of the day in order to work out the kinks, remind my body of what it takes to keep control while sliding down a hill on wooden planks, etc.
Fiberglass, whatever.
I didn't quite get that slow first run. Instead, I went screaming down Ogalalla and ended up with my face planted firmly in a snow bank about half way down. That's after spending a few minutes careening down the hill, way out of control, a few seconds flailing wildly, and a few miliseconds spreading my gear across the mountainside in a yard sale, just missing a snowboarder by inches.
When I pulled my face out of the snow, I noticed the blood.
Noses bleed a lot when they've been slammed into the side of a mountain. Luckily, my compatriots came along (they were behind me -- was I trying to show off? Perhaps, but that is the story of another post) with advice and Kleenex. Lie back, shove this kleenex up your nose, don't worry about the blood streaming down the side of your face and onto your new skiing outfit....
I don't want you think that it ruined my day. It didn't. Just slowed me down. A lot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
