Me, my brothers, and our mail box. Must have been 1968 or 1969, living in a new doublewide trailer home, which we thought was pretty elegant living, in the High Sierra desert. I think I was six, the youngest was just a year or so, and the middle would have been 4ish? That was a good life, filled with beautiful mountain scapes, great road trips all over the mountains and desert, playing with our cousins, who were my age and a little older, visiting with grandparents, lots of camping trips. Snakes, turtles, dogs, coyotes, the fear of scorpions (I never actually saw one). The search for arrowheads and other treasures. Visiting ghost towns and abandoned mines. Snow in the winter, egg-frying contests on the sidewalk in the summer. Living for the county fair. Small town life beats city life hands down.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Growing Up
Me, my brothers, and our mail box. Must have been 1968 or 1969, living in a new doublewide trailer home, which we thought was pretty elegant living, in the High Sierra desert. I think I was six, the youngest was just a year or so, and the middle would have been 4ish? That was a good life, filled with beautiful mountain scapes, great road trips all over the mountains and desert, playing with our cousins, who were my age and a little older, visiting with grandparents, lots of camping trips. Snakes, turtles, dogs, coyotes, the fear of scorpions (I never actually saw one). The search for arrowheads and other treasures. Visiting ghost towns and abandoned mines. Snow in the winter, egg-frying contests on the sidewalk in the summer. Living for the county fair. Small town life beats city life hands down.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Test + Final + Essay this week
Did I mention that along with being early 40's and working more than 40 hours each week, I'm also finishing my ding-blasted gorsh-darned degree?
Yep, it's true.
I'll be done in DECEMBER!!!!!!!!!!!! (Yes, I was shouting.)
Had to take an intro to Philosophy class, required, no way around it, despite the logic, ethics, philosophy of religion, and other philosophy classes I've taken through the years. If you're not a major, and don't plan to teach in this, there's only so much Simile of the Forms or The Republic or Karl Marx one can read and retain sanity. I'm sure I'm a better person for it.
In any event, it's complete (!!!) this week -- five week online version of the 18-week community college class. Two, sometimes three, online tests (they call them "quizzes" ha) a week. One last test and then the two hour online final this Thursday.
I complain, but when I get into the zone, I do enjoy philosophy. I just highly resent being forced to take the general ed course despite finishing my degree almost two years ago except for this course. Karma?
I'm also taking a required 1-unit "humanities" course. Two weeks, three meetings, time that I'll never get back. I get to write an essay based on any article that I like from The New Yorker. I chose something by Atual Watanda (hope I spelled that right), a surgeon who's an excellent writer. Our instructor chose the New Yorker because of all publications available to us, this magazine is the only one that will give use TRUTH in media. Then she proceeded to read out loud (yep, she certainly did) an article that was so incredibly left-biased that my own moderately liberal or liberally conservative values felt the need for a long shower. Mind you, she chose this "article" from the "commentary" section, so impressed by their quality of investigative journalism. I wonder if I can get away with faxing in my essay and never coming back? How about (a) actual journalism vs. someone's column, (b) balanced journalism, and/or (c) humanities rather than politics? She went on and on about the Glorious Ariana Huffington (which would make my best friend very happy), another source of TRUTH rather than the lies that she cannot trust from the media.
Paranoid much?
Fanaticism in a Jesuit University. Who knew.
It's much more fun to rant about her than to write my essay. If bold, I'll do both. It's just one unit, though.
Yep, it's true.
I'll be done in DECEMBER!!!!!!!!!!!! (Yes, I was shouting.)
Had to take an intro to Philosophy class, required, no way around it, despite the logic, ethics, philosophy of religion, and other philosophy classes I've taken through the years. If you're not a major, and don't plan to teach in this, there's only so much Simile of the Forms or The Republic or Karl Marx one can read and retain sanity. I'm sure I'm a better person for it.
In any event, it's complete (!!!) this week -- five week online version of the 18-week community college class. Two, sometimes three, online tests (they call them "quizzes" ha) a week. One last test and then the two hour online final this Thursday.
I complain, but when I get into the zone, I do enjoy philosophy. I just highly resent being forced to take the general ed course despite finishing my degree almost two years ago except for this course. Karma?
I'm also taking a required 1-unit "humanities" course. Two weeks, three meetings, time that I'll never get back. I get to write an essay based on any article that I like from The New Yorker. I chose something by Atual Watanda (hope I spelled that right), a surgeon who's an excellent writer. Our instructor chose the New Yorker because of all publications available to us, this magazine is the only one that will give use TRUTH in media. Then she proceeded to read out loud (yep, she certainly did) an article that was so incredibly left-biased that my own moderately liberal or liberally conservative values felt the need for a long shower. Mind you, she chose this "article" from the "commentary" section, so impressed by their quality of investigative journalism. I wonder if I can get away with faxing in my essay and never coming back? How about (a) actual journalism vs. someone's column, (b) balanced journalism, and/or (c) humanities rather than politics? She went on and on about the Glorious Ariana Huffington (which would make my best friend very happy), another source of TRUTH rather than the lies that she cannot trust from the media.
Paranoid much?
Fanaticism in a Jesuit University. Who knew.
It's much more fun to rant about her than to write my essay. If bold, I'll do both. It's just one unit, though.
A California Morning Lo These Many Years Ago
Big sis (me) and my bros, enjoying the sunny Southern California rays. Mom likely used her Polaroid, and one of us got to shake out the slightly damp and mucousy photo before she peeled off the photo to reveal . . . us! Her own innocent angels.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
My innocent girls
Molly (tortoiseshell) and Fiona (tabby) are My Girls, both of whom adopted me at the Silicon Valley Humane Society in Summer 2004. My Girls aren't always monsters; in fact, I often catch them curled up in an affectionate knot. Fiona is a very sweet, but introverted, brown tabby with stubby legs and glowing green eyes. She never stops talking. Molly is fiesty and independent, very long legs and speckled gold/green eyes. She often looks sad in her pictures, yet she might be the happiest cat I know. Neither suffers, both know my job is to serve them, and both know their places in the world: superior to me!
Me, just a few years ago
I'm not particularly photogenic, which may explain my fondness for my baby picture (I was darn cute!).
August, Lupus, Cats
I love Fall, but hate Summer, so August is a little bittersweet. On one hand, the heat is killing me, on the other hand, Fall evenings are just around the corner. Thank heavens for A/C.
My closest friend just started a blog, after several impassioned emails to me to start MY own blog. Shame is a useful tool. Here I go . . .
One of the reasons I hate Summer is because I can't take heat and I can't be in the sun. Why can't I be in the sun? I have an autoimmune disorder, "lupus," which is exacerbated (made worse) by sunlight. Crazy, huh? Maybe vampires have lupus. I like garlic! Haven't tried holy water, but churches don't bother me at all. Having lupus means that my immune system attacks my connective tissue. Some folks have very serious cases of lupus, usually involving organ failure and death. I am lucky, and just have "mild" lupus, which means that I have to avoid the sun, heat makes me extremely ill, I enjoy pain in my joints and chest, I am often extremely fatigued, and I have the occasional odd other problem. Oh yes, and I have a little something called "peripheral neuropathy," probably induced by the lupus, which basically means the nerves in my feet and legs, as well as hands, are starting to wonk out on me. When I'm unlucky, all of these things occur at once, and when I'm lucky, nothing bothers me at all.
My cats are also not fond of August. They're both puddle kitties somewhere in the house right now. They don't much like me petting them this time of year. Once the nights become chilly again, I'll once again be relegated to my six square inches of bed so that my cats can assume their rightful place as Owners of the Bed.
There you go! A reason to love August! The bed is mine!
My closest friend just started a blog, after several impassioned emails to me to start MY own blog. Shame is a useful tool. Here I go . . .
One of the reasons I hate Summer is because I can't take heat and I can't be in the sun. Why can't I be in the sun? I have an autoimmune disorder, "lupus," which is exacerbated (made worse) by sunlight. Crazy, huh? Maybe vampires have lupus. I like garlic! Haven't tried holy water, but churches don't bother me at all. Having lupus means that my immune system attacks my connective tissue. Some folks have very serious cases of lupus, usually involving organ failure and death. I am lucky, and just have "mild" lupus, which means that I have to avoid the sun, heat makes me extremely ill, I enjoy pain in my joints and chest, I am often extremely fatigued, and I have the occasional odd other problem. Oh yes, and I have a little something called "peripheral neuropathy," probably induced by the lupus, which basically means the nerves in my feet and legs, as well as hands, are starting to wonk out on me. When I'm unlucky, all of these things occur at once, and when I'm lucky, nothing bothers me at all.
My cats are also not fond of August. They're both puddle kitties somewhere in the house right now. They don't much like me petting them this time of year. Once the nights become chilly again, I'll once again be relegated to my six square inches of bed so that my cats can assume their rightful place as Owners of the Bed.
There you go! A reason to love August! The bed is mine!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
