Spike Heels

The lazy days of winter term are over here at UD, and the town is now swelling once again with undergraduates, who have graciously returned to entertain those of us regular folks with their unbelievable fashion sense. The tights/Uggs ensemble is old news now; in with the new! On the way downtown last night, Superman and I got a good laugh from a girl running in leggings, very bright green shorts, a funky top, and a wild headband. It got better when I went to park the car on my way back from aerobics: A group of three girls, obviously headed out for the evening, walked by. In front of the pack was a young lady in a jacket, green skirt, leggings, and spike heels. Behind her were two girls who looked comfortable from head to ankle in jeans and regular top/jacket combos, but they were both wearing spike heels as well.

After cringing as I watched them struggle to cross the street gracefully, I had a sudden urge to open the window and yell, "Girls! No one is going to notice the shoes! Save your feet while you still can!"

I've tried this before, explaining to eighth grade girls whining about their heels that I have jogged across streets in San Francisco in four-inch-heeled platform boots and paid for it with plantar fascitis later (tough on a marathoning hobby). They just stared at me, not believing that there was any way I could ever have been remotely cool. It's true; giving advice wearing running shoes and jeans just doesn't inspire action.

Apparently, around the time I stopped being cool, I also became a hall monitor. Superman calls me the neighborhood busybody, and he's right. Once you teach, you become very comfortable with giving other people instructions for how to behave appropriately.

I'll try to contain myself. After all, I'm sure those undergrads could offer me a few fashion tips.

A Valentine's Post from the Super Science Teacher

My science teacher pal is at it again--check it out:

This week's Egan's script must have been written by the Coen Brothers and possibly Saint Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animal. I kid you not.
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We finished our first ever "Human Body Extravaganza" unit where we let the kids teach human body systems (jigsaw style--each table taught the other tables a system). My colleague and I thought the whole thing was "half baked" when we started...but eventually we found our way. The kids came on their daily cable news to say that the 7th Grade science teachers had hatched a "genius" plan to let them teach for a couple of weeks. Each group was responsible for a powerpoint, a creative activity, a lab activity, homework, daily brainsnacks and a quiz. The reflection essays poured in this week and they were happy to be the "guinea pigs" for future sevies! To watch them at the front of the class, running the show, trying to get the kids' attention with my bodhran (Celtic tambourine), Buzz Light Year wand, train whistles, dinner bell...etc. was priceless. Pay back time. For 3 weeks. Heh heh heh. One teaching group finally bribed their audience with candy (which I rarely do--I prefer to use extra credit) but were freaked when the entire 7th period class stormed and trampled them as they hoisted the 5 pound bag from its hiding place. The merits and misfortunes of sugar were discussed at length in the 7th period reflection essays. This latest crop of sevies sure talks a lot, but they do write well!

Meanwhile, this unseasonably warm weather (please call it global climate disruption, NOT global warming!) has spawned more than birds migrating tin he wrong direction--the kids' hormonal and circadian rhythms appear to be completely out of whack. [This next section has been censored to protect those adolescents who will look back on junior high in total and complete mortification.]

At the level of the district, 2.6 million dollars are being slashed and pink slips may fly. I was put in charge of finding a venue for our union's annual TGIF and I was told to do it ASAP because teachers need a beer BEFORE they get their pink slip. The state is in more a miasma than our school board and we are all in a state of confusion. 2 o'dark:30 meetings just kicked up the anxiety a tad, but they did clarify what we are being asked to give up. We'll be partying down at the sportsbar in the meanwhile...

The week culminated in a 3:30 Friday formal wedding between 2 leopard geckos of unknown gender, Ramses and Honey. This was the brainchild of the animal caretaker kids, not We the Teachers. I felt partially responsible for this--I had given Honey to Curt (my courageous colleague) as a replacement for his beloved Caledonia (a kid managed to crush her pelvis by accidentally dropping her "cave" on her--she died shortly thereafter). Yes, it's true; I "introduced" them! Formal invitations were sent out (within the science department). Curt's room was arranged like a church with an aisle--we even had assigned seating--and Curt himself was dressed hippie-style for the Tie Dye Dance he was supposed to chaperone that night. He added a cross on top of his peace pendant and became the High Priest. There were ring bearers, flower girls, another gecko named Jeckyl as best man, and one of my students held the bible for our priest to read from (which was damn difficult because he forgot his reading glasses): "Leopard Geckos for Dummies", Chapter 9, verse 1: "It may be difficult to tell a girl from a boy..." Curt had just the right timing on the whole Priest Parlance. Curt and I looked at each other and we were laughing so hard that we were crying. All the animal caretaker kids and a couple of my TAs were in attendance (they came for the free food and to get out of grading frog dissection packets) along with 3 of 4 science teachers and 2 older siblings (now in high school) who rolled their eyes the whole time. Also in attendance were all the other animals--in fact, the entire Ark was present. I held Romun the Praying Mantis who boxed at the nearby lizards. My TAs held Mushu and Gizzard, my phat lizards; Damon, my colleague, had Vesona the Anorexic Garter snake around his neck. The other snakes were held by other students, and one student sat in the back with the fish and spider tanks perched precariously on his lap. Somebody else had my toad Koko who kept trying to leap away--she/he didn't want anything to do with these geckos. She can object all she wants, she is the wrong species (Physignathus cocinus) and can't jockey for position with Ramses. Gizzard the Constipated Bearded Dragon threatened to relieve himself on a boy's lap, so he was given back to me. A girl whispered to me that Mushu was "objecting", so I assisted Mushu in raising her front leg in objection to the union. A girl from the chess team filmed the entire ceremony with the animals getting most of the coverage (Thank Ganesha). The Giving Away of the Groom provided some really great histrionics from the "OPM" (OverProtective Mother) of the groom (Ramses' caretaker). Then the geckos "kissed" from their royal pillows, Honey swatted at Ramses and we all rejoiced. Reception Time! The wedding planners blasted some seriously overplayed Coldplay and we all tucked in to the artfully arranged stale Girl Scout cookies and Super Sucrose cakes in the back (AFTER we put the Ark back to bed and washed our hands!). One of my boys ate so much he almost upchucked. The girls' shrieking sent the boys into the relative quiet of my room until their parents could pick them up. Curt said we might all end up on the kid-produced cable school news. Lava, my laid back and low key cornsnake (he's never bitten anyone!), certainly hopes not; he doesn't like to draw any attention to himself. I think they are now planning an engagement party for Bart and Freddy the hypermelanistic cornsnakes (we are SURE of their gender and have watched Freddy make overtures towards Bart). Bart was thought to be a boy for years but she had her first clutch of eggs last year and proved us wrong. Laidback Lava reportedly yawned and said, "Yeah, sure I'll go if there's mice on ice at the reception...".

Peace Out!

Best Concerts Ever (Inspired by Heather Landers)

Heather beat me to it; I've had a list of my greatest concert experiences waiting to be added to this blog for years now (I started it while I was taking History of Rock here at UD in February 2007), and all my dilly-dallying means...well, only that I'm not the first person I know to create such a list. Why not add to it?

1) Bob Mould at World Cafe Live in 2008, when I met him. Great venue in a great location with great food and amazing sound. Best show I've ever been to.

2) The Bob Mould Band at the Fillmore in, I think, 2005. Matt and I went, and I couldn't stop dancing. Every Bob show is the best show ever.

3) Bob Mould at the Great American Music Club in 1993. The company wasn't great, but the show was. He played both acoustic and electric and was in a great mood.

4) Sugar, 1998, at the Fillmore. I went with the same guy with whom I saw my first Bob show, but the crowd is always so great at Bob's shows that it almost doesn't matter whom you're with. I think I've seen Bob a few other times, but those four stand out for me the most. It's impossible to have a bad time at the Fillmore.

5) Speaking of, Jeff Tweedy at the Fillmore in 2005 or 2006 was pretty fantastic. I unfortunately can't say the same about most of the Wilco shows I've been to, not because of the band, but because their fans tend to be really obnoxious. I don't get it. There was Coachella 2005, in which a girl in a pink cowboy hat almost beat Matt up after he asked her to be quiet (while they were playing--how is that too much to ask?) and the Greek Theater in Berkeley in 2004 (I think I have those dates right) in which groups of drunk people just chatted right through the set. They played a good show in San Jose in the fall of 2005 (again, not sure of the date), but I was suffering from cassoulet-itis and had to leave during "California Stars." What a bummer.

6) My friend Marta took me to U2 at the Oakland Arena, and we had amazing seats. That was a great show.

7) Coachella 2004, which was my first post for this blog. It was amazing.

8) Erasure with Mark Phillips in 2004, at The Independent in San Francisco. He bet that acid wash wouldn't come back that year, and I bet it would (moon boots did; it seemed like a natural next step). He won the bet, which meant that I was supposed to wear acid wash to the show, but I couldn't find anything. He, on the other hand, did, and rocked those acid washed jeans like the stud he is. And that's why I'm naming my firstborn after him.

9) Stacie and I randomly went to see Fun Lovin' Criminals at the Fillmore in 2000, and it was thoroughly entertaining. Stace and I always have way too much fun dancing. We went with Nancy to see Vertical Horizon and that horrible band with the song about the little black backpack a few months later--VH was pretty fun, but the other band--Stroke 9, that's it--was pretty lame. It was still fun. Like I said, the Fillmore doesn't disappoint as a venue. I've also seen my friend Joel's old band open for Train there (his band was better), seen Matchbox 20 there for free (my friend was their manager for a while), seen Maceo Parker and almost fell asleep (damn teaching job), and went to some DJ thing, too.

10) For a very short while in the early 2000's, the club on California Avenue in Palo Alto was not The Edge and not Illusions, and it got good bands. Joel's band The Substitutes played there a few times and rocked the joint.

11) I remember some show that BostonErin and I went to in high school--Rebecca Schwedner's boyfriend's band played...we had to drive through Sunnyvale, or Santa Clara, or something to get there. It was fun, and I remember thinking that our parents were incredibly cool to let us go.

12) My brother and I went to a Drive-Thru Records show at the Bottom of the Hill in 2002. Super fun. That's another great venue.

13) My band, Morningside, played El Rio in 2001. Great place to give a show. That was a fun night. The Egan Intermediate School stage ain't bad, either.

14) I can't believe I was too sick to see Built to Spill in 2001, and I've missed the White Stripes every time, but I did drive baseball pitcher Joe Nathan's black Ford Explorer home from a Chili Peppers Show in 1999. And yes, I'm pathetic enough to still be telling that story ten years later.

15) I always loved going to Shoreline to hear the Grateful Dead. Then I lived on their street in San Francisco. I'm no Deadhead, but Jerry's guitar was truly amazing, and pulling up a patch of lawn there in the Mountain View sunshine was a good time in high school.

16) The Bridge School Benefit that Neil Young hosted at Shoreline was also fun--we got to see Neil play, of course, and Pearl Jam, and Sammy Hagar once. I remember bringing pizza from Tony and Alba's to one of the shows with my brother and some of our friends.

17) Superbro and I hauled ourselves out to the Concord Pavilion to see Weezer in the early 2000's. Sparta opened for them--great show all around. That's a fantastic venue, but I think it took us 3 hours to get there on a weeknight.

18) I used to go hear shoegazer bands at the Edinburgh Castle on Friday nights all the time around 2000 because my bandmate booked the bands and did sound there; sometimes it was fun, but mostly it wasn't.

19) I saw the Old 97's and Cake at Roseland in New York City the weekend Superbro graduated from college. So. Much. Fun.

20) Sweet Honey in the Rock always gives an inspiring, wonderful show. I first saw them at Stanford Memorial Church in 2002, and saw them again a few years later with my parents. Last spring, my friend Gina and I caught them here in Delaware at the Grand Opera House in Wilmington--great show.

21) Like Jeff Tweedy, I'm not that into music festivals. The two I've been to in Golden Gate Park were overcrowded and cold--one with Peter Gabriel and Sinead O'Connor and one with Elvis Costello and Ben Harper. The best one I've been to was, of course, Coachella (the first year I went, anyway), but Laguna Seca was pretty good in 1994--Sam Phillips, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and The Mother Hips.

22) My drummer friend Scott played in this band, Aunt Beru, in college, and they were really great. Best song was a punked-up version of the Laverne and Shirley theme song.

23) Actually, a lot of the undergrad bands at Stanford were good, and I always loved going to different battles of the bands. I can't remember any of the bands' names now, but that was fun. High school, too--some good bands in high school. There just isn't much that can beat sunshine, great music, and a fun crowd.

24) Superbro and I took our second cousins to a Blink-182/Green Day show at Shoreline in around 2002. Green Day blew those young whippersnappers out of the water. They give a great show.

25) I'm limiting myself to 25 shows, here, so I'll close with Soul Coughing at the Warfield in 1998.

Rock on...

Where Have All the Bloggers Gone? Oh, to Facebook

Superman keeps bugging me to update my blog. My response? I have nothing to say. I do have things to say, but apparently, my attention span has shrunk to the size of a pea. Or, more accurately, has shrunk to the one-liners that Facebook and Twitter have made so very, very popular. And everyone else's attention spans seem also to have shrunk, so that I don't read blogs anymore--instead, I look at my friends' status updates on Facebook. Beth's son locked her out of the house for an hour. Erin is doing too many things at once. These are all the beginnings of great stories--how many of us took creative writing and were told that if we could come up with a great first sentence, the rest would follow? And the stories often unfold through comments--someone sympathizes with Beth and shares the story of when the same thing happened to her. Someone asks Erin more about what she's doing, and she elaborates. It's interactive storytelling this time, instead of this blog business, where you have to actually read whole paragraphs--several of them!

I won't lie and say that I don't miss the days when my dating blog had a following, and I still follow certain writers. But it seems like many of us have abandoned our regular writing activities for other forms of sharing. I don't think it's a good thing, to be honest. I think we're stunting our creativity and becoming boring. My Facebook self is pretty vanilla. My blogger self was a little sassier, and my dating column self...well, she was fierce.

You can only get a sense of a writer's "voice" if you have time to actually experience that voice. One-sentence updates do not cut it, unless you're already fairly familiar with his/her style.

Blogs will be back--we've been writing journals and letters for centuries, right? I'm not sure about the fate of Facebook--it has some cool technical aspects that I believe are the reason it's going strong now, but it's a privacy-issues disaster, and frankly, the web design leaves much to be desired. Plus remember Friendster? That seemed pretty cool, too, and then it just wasn't anymore. Twitter is going to be even more of a flash in the pan, mark my words. Sure, call me a curmudgeon, but let's just check it out in a few years and see what's going on.

Don't even get me started on the ability to completely ignore all rules of grammar on Facebook, too. I increasingly get emails from people that read like they're text messages. I can't help it...I judge them. Am I going to announce it on Facebook? Nope. But every time I find myself not capitalizing, I have to rein myself in. Standards, Ms. Beman, standards! You used to rant about this to students; walk your own talk!

And that's really all I have to say today.

Milk Lands in Delaware

Well, thank goodness, Milk is now playing in Wilmington! Only now I have to get all cranky about Obama's choice of Rick Warren to deliver the invocation at his inaugeration. There are things I actually like about Rick Warren, but not his stance on homosexuality. This morning I said, "It's a bad time to be gay in America." I never thought I'd say something like that on December 18, 2008. It makes me really sad.

No "Milk" for Me

I have been anticipating the release of "Milk," the biography of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, who was fatally shot with Mayor George Moscone in 1978. As a devoted San Franciscan (even though I have lived away from my beloved city for quite a while now), the story of Milk's and Moscone's deaths has always been part of my knowledge of California history, especially considering that Senator Dianne Feinstein was the one who heard the shots, called the police, and announced the deaths to the public.

Before the election, I looked forward to seeing the movie because any opportunity to see San Francisco is a welcome one. Few days go by when I don't miss it; it's a wonderful, unique city, and I will always love and miss Northern California.

When California actually voted Proposition 8, the anti-gay marriage proposition, into law, the movie took on more poignance for me. I feel like after making so much progress toward equal rights as a society, we are suddenly experiencing a major backlash against gay and lesbian rights, and I find that incredibly upsetting. Many of my close friends are gay and lesbian, and when you are privileged enough to know a variety of people, you come to understand that people are people, and love is love, and civil rights should be a given for everybody.

When I taught, one of the annual eighth grade writing assessment prompts was, "To what extent has America achieved the dreams [for equality] of [Martin Luther] King [Jr.] and [John F.] Kennedy?" Many of my students wrote eloquently about gay rights, expressing their disbelief that so many people still wanted to deny gays and lesbians the right to marry or be parents. Yes, this was at a school in a community with educated, progressive residents, but the prevailing attitude was so open to the idea of equal rights for all that I was sure we were entering a new era. I wonder what those kids, some of whom just voted for the first time, are thinking now that we have elected Barack Obama yet passed Proposition 8.

I thought that California could do it--make strides toward equality for people of color and gays and lesbians. However, proving itself once again to be a state of many contradictions, California took one step forward and one step back. And now I feel like anti-gay rhetoric is gaining strength, so I read my Advocate and and speak my mind to others to make sure that one more voice out there speaks for equality.

And then, I consulted Fandango. "Milk" is not playing in Delaware. Not at all. Apparently, there's not a market for it here. I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm definitely disappointed. I know, people here could, for the most part, care less about San Francisco politics of the 1970's, and many people don't even know who Harvey Milk is. I know the movie's not a big moneymaker--it's a niche film. However, I can't help wishing I lived in a place that was a little more hip to gay issues, a little more interested in pushing the envelope. Then again, San Francisco saw one of the first screenings of the movie right after it outlawed gay marriage. Contradictions, indeed.

Missing Math Class

Last night, I dreamed that I was still in high school. It was the current date, October 6, and I hadn't done any of my math assignments yet. Fortunately for me, there hadn't been any tests yet, either, but I was most concerned in the dream about the workload. Apparently, my imaginary school didn't have grades, either, because I would surely have had an F, and in today's days of PowerSchool, my parents would not have been pleased with me.

It must be all the conversations I've been having about teaching lately. Yesterday, while I was manning a booth for UD at an event down on the Lewes campus, a woman came up and took a peek at the brochure I made for the event last week. She asked about the workshops we hold for science teachers, and thinking she wanted to sign up, I told her more. Turns out she makes jewelry for teachers (she herself is a retired science teacher), and I think she may have wanted a mailing list. She showed me the autumn best-seller: a button with a pumpkin on it and a "pi" symbol over it. Get it?

I then had to mention my high school geometry teacher Frank Bonzell, who could draw a perfect circle freehand and always wore a brown tie the day he gave a pop quiz. A Cal grad, he introduced himself on the first day of school to all us freshmen and shophomores with a professionalism and an authority I only wish I could match: "Hi, I'm Frank Bonzell." They don't make too many of those anymore. I couldn't be Frank Bonzell if I tried, although I think I did a pretty good job as a teacher.

Talking about school and teaching makes me realize how many great times I experienced in my own classroom with my students. I have many fond memories and still may return to the profession.

Today, though, I write this from a very nice desk in a gorgeous building at the University, quite happy with my new job and my career path of late. I took the risk when I left my teaching job to freelance, something I had wanted to do my entire career, and had a great experience. However, after two years, I missed the structure of a traditional workday and missed the interactions one gets to enjoy in an office. When you bill your time and want to give your client the most value possible for his or her money, every break you take is off the clock. It's extremely luxurious to be able to devote as much time as I want to to the creation of a brochure, for example, or to take a moment to chat with colleagues.

It has been 15 years since I last completed a math homework assignment. I'm not counting my college classes, although perhaps I should, since I barely passed Civil Engineering 170, was challenged by Cosmic Horizons, and had to be on top of my game for Statistics 40. I was always chagrined that, having been an advanced math student during my K-12 education, my math interest definitely ceased after Calculus AB. I still tell the story of trying to pass the second semester of that class. I had managed to pull a respectable B- the first semester, but for some reason, I hit a wall the second semester and flunked several tests rather miserably. Frantic that Stanford would decide they didn't want me that much after all upon seeing my second semester grade, I paid daily visits to my teacher to beg him to let me drop the class, help me understand what I failed to comprehend, or somehow save my bacon. Bless Mr. Chaddha's heart, he refused to let me drop the class and instead cut me a deal: If I did well on my semester project and passed my final and could earn a passing grade in the class, he would give me a "Pass," rather than a letter grade. If I couldn't pull it off, he'd give me a "No Mark," and I wouldn't get credit for the class. I decided I could live with that.

My good friend Josh Miller, home for the summer from Brown, taught me fractals, and I put together a killer presentation, if I do say so myself, for the end of the year. I can't remember what grade I got, but I did well. I really enjoyed it, too. I managed to pass the final with a C or C+. At a 94.5%, I had enough juice to get my Pass and wave Calculus goodbye...and Stanford hello. I'll always be grateful to Mr. Chaddha, and when I had students who were truly trying, I always took Mr. Chaddha's example and went a little farther to help them out.

It was a happy day when I got the refund check for the Calculus AP test I didn't take, too.

Our Joe

"Our Joe," as Joe Biden is known here in Delaware, did us proud at the convention last night. I am as psyched that he is the VP candidate because I value his experience, leadership, and policies as I am that he's from my home state. It is so unbelievably exciting to have Delaware represented on the national stage! We deserve to me, I mean, we ARE the First State and all. It just seems really exciting that as the Obama-Biden campaign steers the country back toward valuing working- and middle-class families with concrete healthcare, education, and economic policies, Delaware gets to be on the forefront of that. This is a state that really needs those kinds of policies put into action. The Bush Administration has hurt our military families, our poor families, our working families, our teachers, our kids...now we have the opportunity to bring the country back. It's really exciting.

We're settling into the new chapter of our life here in Delaware, in a new (much quieter) house. Soon I'll start a full-time job, Fairfax will go to guide dog training, and we'll have another puppy to raise. Poppy, our rock, likes the new house and has reclaimed her favorite chair and lounging spot on the carpet. All is well.

Go, Joebama! Go, O'Biden! The Joementum is strong!

Not All Skunks are Flower from Bambi

We have a family of skunks living behind the house now. How it is that all this wildlife chooses our backyard in the middle of town is beyond me, but Pepe Le Pieu and her four babies made their way across our street last night, stopping traffic even, to refuge. Eau de skunk was definitely in the air when I took Fairfax's sister, Fala, whom we are sitting, out before bedtime.

Fala, incidentally, is entertainment by herself. Today I came home from dance class to be greeted by her. I had put her in her crate, but she let herself out and cavorted around the house while I was gone. Amazingly, the only casualty was part of a toilet paper roll.

She did just take down Fairfax's flower, though--the only soft toy he hasn't destroyed. She just thought that needed to be taken care of. It took a lot of persuading to get her to drop the fluff she pulled out of the toy--she paraded around with it for quite a while.

Now she's napping--all that playtime wears a girl out!

My Pets Are Smarter Than I Am

Currently, Fairfax is sitting next to me, chewing a mint rubber toy that will shortly become green confetti, contemplating a great escape to the bed in the guestroom or possibly the downstairs couch--places he is not allowed to be, but believes are his. He knows when I'm so focused on something that I won't notice if he slips away, and so he waits for that moment to "drop" his bone on the ground, pick it up, glance toward me to see if I'm looking, and if I am not, he leaves my office for other parts of the house, where he can let his "manners" deteriorate and live as he feels he should, lounging on expensive furniture and terrorizing the cat.

Already today, he has chilled with Poppy on our bed (while I was eating lunch and mistakenly believed he was underneath the dining room table, because he just loves to sit with me while I eat. Not.). He has crawled under the guest bed to be just like the cat (unsurprisingly, she crawled out, and the way I found out about this was that he started barking at her to tell her she was expected to play with him and was not behaving properly). He has also slinked away with his toy to chew it on the guest bed (because that's much more fun than chewing it under supervision).

Our Guiding Eyes regional manager, and most people with a brain, would say I need to be more attentive to him, and he to me. It's true, but, also true is that I get so engrossed in reading and writing that all other input is simply a distraction.

It only occurred to me a few minutes ago to close the office door to keep Fairfax contained. This will work for a little while, until he gets bored and ditches his toy to whine at the door. After all, he believes he should have the same privileges as the cat, who is presently romping about the house. If he is smarter than me, she is smarter than both of us. She knows she is faster than he is, and she knows that playing with his tail is the best way to distress him. She knows that if she eats while he lies down next to her, it's a great way to torture him.

Most importantly, she knows that if she can't wake me up at 5:45 A.M., which is, after all, when the birds are up and everyone else should be, too, she can just wake the dog up, and his whining will ensure that the humans get up immediately. More than once, she has clawed and pawed and even bitten me at the crack of dawn, been "dismissed" from her perch on my pillow, sauntered away, and come racing back to the bed at the exact moment the dog starts whining. Coincidence? Absolutely not.

So here we'll be, for a little while longer, I at work and Fairfax chewing, the cat lounging in the guest room, until he needs a break. After all, let's not kid ourselves about who's in charge of this house. The cat runs it, he rents, and Superman and I are really just the staff.

Yes, I really did research my article on American Legion Post 25's new site in Middletown

As I walked Fairfax down E. Delaware Ave. Monday evening, a guy yelled from his friend's car, "I'd be on a leash, too, girl!" It's definitely spring. Zinnia and Basil are in full evidence in the yard, an irate robin has made our cars his enemy, and the mockingbird that dive-bombed Fairfax (and me) all last spring and summer is baaaack. Daphne DuMaurier was onto something with The Birds; this bird makes me scream every single time it flies into me. Iiiick.

Last night, Superman left the keys in the door all night. I found them when I went to swimming this morning. It never ceases to amaze me how lucky one can be. When I lived in San Francisco, I housesat for a guy who lived way up at the top of the Shrader St. hill in a cool "Tales of the City" type place. I parked my car after a long day at work and promptly left the keys in the ignition. All night. Still there when I got up the next day, though.

The weather is exactly like California, and I love it. I've got great projects right now and am working full-time and then some. It rocks. Tonight: fish tacos with sashimi-grade fish. Sweet!

Have a sunshiney day!

Spring in New Orleans

I often get my best travel info from other people's blogs, so I've decided to do more with mine. I've written about Delaware, Maryland, and Pennsylvania since moving here, but I haven't done much with California, which is shameful, since I always prided myself on being a great tour guide (after 30 years in the state, I'd hope so!). I wrote about Kauai when we went, and I think I'll do the same with New Orleans.

I am not, and have never been, a Bourbon Street person. Matt insists upon walking down it every chance he gets, for the high entertainment value, but for those of us who prefer our streets clean and smelling like flowers, Bourbon is not a destination.

The first time I visited New Orleans, I was speaking at a conference at the Wyndham Hotel, and it was booked. I blindly booked a room at the Royal Sonesta...on Bourbon Street. Let's just say I didn't sleep very well. Fortunately, I was only there two nights, since I had gotten hit by a van while running two days before my flight and wasn't going to go at all. However, my flight got cancelled, I got a refund, the next day I was bored to tears, so I ended up taking the flight I'd been rebooked on and heading to The Big Easy.

My Irish friend Sarah and I ate at the Red Fish Grill (on...you guessed it, Bourbon Street), where our Egreetings.com coworker Mitch had been a cook. I hear it's still good, but there are better places. We went on a ghost tour, got bored, and ended up shopping for tacky souvenirs...probably on Bourbon Street. We visited the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone and snuck up to the rooftop pool. We had beignets and hot chocolate at Cafe Du Monde and bribed a cab driver to drive us around the Garden District, then learned about the $1.25 trolley. The morning Sarah left, I took a morning walk through the French Quarter while they were hosing down Bourbon Street, glad that I never got the bright idea to go to Mardi Gras.

When we returned last November, my first time back since that conference, we stayed at the wonderful Maison Dupuy, with its reasonable rates, pleasant cafe, beautiful courtyard, and off-the-beaten-path location on Burgundy and Toulouse in the French Quarter.

Our best meal on that trip was at Muriel's, a beautifully designed space on Jackson Square that combines the old and the modern very creatively. Oh, and the food's great. We also really enjoyed Cafe Royal, a coffee shop on Royal Street.

This time, we repeated our Maison Dupuy stay and Muriel's dinner, with additional stops at the classic Brennan's (flaming strawberries, anyone?), lunch at Lucy's, amazing salsa at El Gato Negro, a mellow dinner at EAT New Orleans, and less adventurous lunches at the Uptown Whole Foods and Gordon Biersch. Breakfast took place at Cafe Beignet, which has better beignets than Cafe Du Monde and decent coffee, and our favorite cafe, Cafe Envie, a fabulous space in the very corner of the Quarter with cold drip coffee and amazing breakfast.

I attended a surprising amount of the conference--I couldn't miss Matt and Jason's talks, of course, but I also heard a researcher with whom Matt works occasionally give a talk and attempted to understand several others (I failed). I even went to "SciMix," the big poster session! Whoohoo! There was free beer.

When I wasn't hangin' with the chemists, I went to the fabulous Ogden Museum of Southern
Art, a can't miss collection of fantastic pieces. Matt and I took the streetcar to Tulane and Audobon Park and wandered around Uptown and the Garden District, and I took the streetcar out to the Museum of Art, its sculpture garden, and City Park, out in Mid-City. I'd leave that for your last activity if you're visiting. It's a long, slow trip out there, and truthfully, I enjoyed the Ogden Museum more. I missed a few of the historic houses and gardens and would have chosen them over NOMA, in the end. The French Quarter walking tour run by the Park Service is supposed to be great, and one person I chatted with enjoyed her plantation tour. I'll just have to go back...

Tulips

They're everywhere--the true sign of spring. First it was the daffodils, then the blossoms on the trees, and now the tulips! Shame on the person who picked some of ours--fortunately, we have so many, it barely made a dent. There is a true flower thief afoot in Newark, though. Grrr.

I've been gallavanting around with my Advanced Landscape Design Class--last week we visited the Sound Garden, sculptor and UD professor John Moss' garden of sculptures focused around sound. We also learned about native purple martins in Fair Hill. We've also visited Bucktoe Creek preserve, a privately owned property devoted to organic ecology research; spent time on-site at our three project sites (UD's Early Learning Center, the Delaware Department of Agriculture, and the Newark Farm); and talked a lot about Doug Tallamy's book, Bringing Nature Home, which makes the case for planting native plants as often as possible to continue to preserve habitat for native insects, birds, and other wildlife.

I'm definitely on board with native plants, but I also feel that well-managed bulbs and annuals can add seasonal beauty to a garden and warm a gardener's heart without becoming invasives like multiflora rose and Eucalyptus. Many would argue that I'm wrong, that seeds get carried to other locations and create a problem we won't be able to fix later, but for now, that's where I stand.

I feel a similar way about animals--this might be comparing apples to oranges, but at this point, I am incapable of killing the sparrow that seems to be taking over my birdhouse, though I know he's capable of assassinating baby bluebirds, a native bird.

But let's get back to spring. Supermom and Superdad visited last week, after Superman and I went to New Orleans for the American Chemical Society meeting (guess which one of us spent time visiting gardens and museums?). I took the 'rents to Simon Pearce on the Brandywine, Winterthur, Gibraltar, and Longwood Gardens. We also volunteered for the Colonial Market held in celebration of Newark's 250th anniversary and visited the Co-op an inordinate amount of times (four people drink a lot of milk, apparently). Great eats included an Amber Waves Bakery peach pie, scored at the aforementioned Colonial Market, lunch at the Simon Pearce restaurant, and lunch at The Whip Tavern in Coatesville, PA.

Fairfax was a major hit at Longwood. He was mobbed by children upon entry, and we met at least 50% of the garden's visitors that day, which we all loved. It's great to be able to share more about Guiding Eyes and guide dogs in general. It reinforces why we're doing this and makes us feel like we're doing a good job.

This week is all about work, as is May, since I have an exciting project due at the end of May.
Happy Spring!

Alternadelegate

I'm the alternate Obama delegate for my tiny little district in Newark, which means that if my friend Josh and the other delegate, Steve, can't go to the state convention, I'll be representin'. And you never know what might happen for the national convention in Denver this summer!

Today's job is less exciting; the dog insists that I hold his bone while he chews it, so I am currently trying to figure out how to type with one hand.

Flower Girl

Poppy likes to approve each of my floral arrangements for class. Here she is with yesterday's corsage and boutonniere, as well as with last week's arrangement, which has held up beautifully.

Arranging Flowers

I decided to go light on the coursework this term, so I'm taking "Flower Arranging for Beginners," and you know, I'm not sure if there's an advanced class, but I'd sure like to take it. Every class I take at UD is "my new favorite class," so this is my new favorite class. :) I made a topiary at the first class, last week, and successfully defended it from the lioness at my house, who thought it was a groovy new cat toy.

Yesterday, I made two arrangements that would go nicely on a tabletop for an event, were the flowers not from the supermarket (he was making a point about quality). One is symmetrical, and one is asymmetrical.

At any rate, The Poppy Communications Brand has now officially expanded. Poppy Cakes, the catering arm, is booked for two events in February, and Poppy Design is available for all of your garden, floral, and even graphic (note: incredibly limited skill set) design needs. Plus, we work for free! Heehee.

Happy New Year

I'm supposed to be participating in a daily January blog-off with my friend Dulcy Gregory, but so far, it's day 9, and I've done nothing.

Here I am to redeem myself to myself. December saw a silver medal on the part of Dazzle, my synchronized figure skating team, pictured above. The same day, Fairfax earned his jacket from Guiding Eyes, and now has service dog privileges most places. He's learning to greet people more calmly and get through a shopping trip without incident. Occasional slips are made; I had to buy a "Barnyard Buddy" at Concord Pet last weekend after he helped himself to the treat bar as I was paying for his dog food and handsome new red collar.

Christmas was spent in Maine, snowshoeing and enjoying my first White Christmas with Superman's family. SuperCute Cousin did a phenomenal job handling Fairfax; she, like her cousin, is a Dog Whisperer, and her cat, Sweetpea, taught Fairfax to lie down when he interacts with cats, which he now does at home.

New Year's was spent, once again, at Longwood Gardens, this time with Superman's brother Dave and a few of our friends. We headed to D.C. on New Year's Day for what was probably only the second day of the year (Christmas being the first) without traffic in the city. We went to the Udvar-Hazy annex to the Air and Space Museum first, then drove into town to see the Natural History and American Indian museums. We attempted to get dinner at our favorite place in Woodley Park, the Lebanese Taverna, but they were closed for New Year's Day, so we headed home through Chevy Chase and Bethesda to have a home-cooked meal.

January has started off well; plenty of work, a flower-arranging class, more ice skating and more puppy classes, and achievable New Year's Resolutions. I am kickboxing at the UD gym twice a week, swimming four days a week, strength training three times a week, ice skating, and walking the dog. I hope to be Bionic by February. :)

Happy 2008!

Rock and Roll Superstar

I met Bob Mould, my punk rock idol, a few weeks ago at a great show he did at World Cafe Life in Philadelphia. We went with neighbor Mike, and not only was the trip up smooth, parking was easy and well-lit, and the venue was hands-down the nicest place I've ever seen live music (although UD's theaters come really close). We had a fantastic dinner and great wine/beer before Bob's Q&A session, watched him do a combination acoustic/electric set (I just get weak in the knees when he busts out that blue Fender Stratacaster), and then enjoyed his new DVD, Circle of Friends. The boys, apparently more aged than I, were chomping at the bit to get home to bed (true, it was a school night, and I do have a more flexible workday), so they dragged me kicking and screaming out of the theater to buy my DVD and have Bob sign it. Not only did he sign it, he shook my hand AND took a picture with me! My life is complete...I met Bob Mould. He has no idea what an inspiration he is to people...not only is his entire body of music lyrically significant and musically unique, but his intelligence as a blogger and speaker really make him stand out as a public figure. Bet you didn't know he wrote the theme song for The Daily Show. Buy his stuff--Husker Du, Sugar, and his solo albums. If you heart punk rock and alt. rock like I do, you won't be sorry.

Rebuilding New Orleans, Two Years After Katrina

While I was in New Orleans for Matt's Soil Science Society of America conference, I had an opportunity: join four other UD folks and the St. Bernard Project (http://www.stbernardproject.org/) to work on a house in St. Bernard Parish. My friend Jen Gilbert, determined that the brain and muscle power attending the conference should be dedicated to a good cause while in New Orleans, had attempted to organize a larger volunteer project in conjunction with the conference. There was a group that volunteered before our UD contingent arrived, but Jen wasn't going to let the opportunity to slip by while she was in the city. She got on message boards several months before the conference, asking which organization people recommended we support. The St. Bernard Project got glowing reviews, so Jen signed us up, rented a van so we could get there from the French Quarter, and reminded everyone what to bring.

On Wednesday, November 7, we left our hotel at 8am and drove to St. Bernard Parish. As the St. Bernard Parish Project explains on its website, the community is adjacent to the Lower Ninth Ward, and 100% of its residences and businesses flooded when the levees failed. As we drove into the area, my heart sank and my throat constricted. Almost every single structure had a huge X on its front, with the National Guard Unit number and date they checked the building. At the bottom was the number of dead found inside the building. We only saw zeros, but of course we all know that there were fatalities.

The Wal-Mart wasn't even open yet, but some businesses were open, and some homes had clearly been rebuilt. Many homes were under construction, FEMA trailers parked in the yard or driveway. But then there were the sadder sites--parking lots right on the main road filled with FEMA trailers, themselves filled with entire families and even pets. Two and a half years after a national disaster, how are people who have worked all their lives still living in trailers?

When we arrived at the office of the St. Bernard Project, we learned that the organization was begun in August 2006 when a couple visiting from Washington, D.C. observed "the overwhelming need for rebuilding assistance" and started the group to rebuild and renovate homes. The organization had a piece of butcher paper on the wall that said 83 families in the community are now back in their homes, and 21 houses are under construction. The organization raises funds for building materials and overhead, recruits volunteers, and builds home. Our UD crew was heartened by the simplicity of the organization.

On Tuesday 11/6, I had read an article in the New York Times about how haphazard and even risky much of the rebuilding in New Orleans is. My take-away was that it's all well and good to talk about how the re-build might have been done, but that should have happened in September of 2005, and plans should have been drawn up immediately, allowing a systematic method of rebuilding and re-homing of survivors. Instead, nothing was done...for two years. I really don't care about some New Urbanist architect's vision of how New Orleans should be rebuilt, unless that person has a plan to make it happen RIGHT NOW. Even as a fledgling landscape designer, I think the residents of St. Bernard Parish should get into their homes ASAP.

Matt and his colleague Brandon, the son of a master electrician, went to the home of a nice Filipino lady who took their pictures (she takes the pictures of all her volunteers, she told them). She told Matt and Brandon that after the flood, she stayed in fifteen shelters before getting home six months later. Another man in the neighborhood, who had served in the U.S. Military and is a retired police officer, told them that he had spent six days on the roof. On the second day, he assured his neighbor that the U.S. Military can deploy anywhere in the world in three days and that they'd be there momentarily. Instead, it was the Canadian Mounties that rescued them, days later.

Jen, her boyfriend Sean, and I went to another home in the neighborhood, that had been re-wired and had plumbing installed. We insulated almost the whole house, a grueling job that can't even compare to what the family has been through. They had already moved some of their things into the house, and the bathroom was even decorated, though it had no walls yet. I found myself choking up as I observed the small refrigerator, bike, and bathroom rug.

A woman from down the street popped in, smiling brightly as she took stock of our work. Cheryl had been on her roof for four days after the flood (she said it took eight minutes for the water to get from her ankles to her chin, and she was swept away by the water, but fortunately climbed onto her neighbor's roof). She and her husband got cholera from diving into the water to try to rescue one of their dogs. She is back in her house, now, after some time in Texas, and always makes sure to tell the volunteers how much the residents love them and that they can come to her house and use the facilities and see her trailer. I asked her about her trailer--did FEMA have a date by which people had to give up their trailers, like the hotel rooms? She said there had been a deadline, yes, "but now, with the formaldehyde issue, they don't care anymore."

At the end of the day, we drove around the neighborhood a bit more, with another volunteer from Brooklyn, NY. Mike, a musician and frequent visitor to New Orleans, came down this time to volunteer for two weeks. "It's not long enough," he said. "I should have come for the month." I understand his feelings. We felt like we should come back the next day. One day was something, but not nearly enough. We have the strength and energy to really make a difference there. I plan to return when Matt attends the American Chemical Society meeting this spring and work every day.

The feelings I came away with were mixed--I have great sadness and empathy for the families who are still living out this tragedy, whether they're back in their home, struggling to re-create the community that is still devastated; in the midst of rebuilding, having to take help from strangers when they've never had to before; living in a FEMA trailer in a parking lot; or in another state, trying to create a life somewhere they didn't ever expect to be. I also felt great hope, as I was waved to by neighbors and thanked by Cheryl. After all this, people have hope. They've come home. Volunteers continue to move to New Orleans to help, or even give just one day. People donate money, two years later.

The thing that hit home the most was that the story I felt I got from media accounts of the events was that the Lower Ninth Ward became a wasteland, and all of New Orleans was desolate, destroyed, and crime-ridden, without hope. In contrast, St. Bernard Parish, arguably the hardest hit, is still the middle-class community it always is, though hard-hit and reeling from the destruction. People are back, they are rebuilding, and they are trying hard to keep their community intact. The story in New Orleans is really one of survival and hope. I encourage those who have the means to get down there to volunteer or to send a donation to any of the wonderful organizations working to help people there to do so. We have the opportunity to help make this right, and we should seize that chance.