I Wonder As I Wander

Get a Grip

2006-08-10T12:52:00.000-04:00

Because you all can read and probably have access to multiple news outlets, I am assuming that you know that a major terrorist threat was thwarted (cool word... thwarted) today. Big news. Lots of people could have died. Scary stuff. I have been thinking about it all day. And, honestly, I have spent the majority of the day just being very thankful that those that I love are safe right now.

So, what has been the buzz at work all day?

OH MY GOD, YOU HAVEN'T GOTTEN MY EMAIL???? DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T SEND EMAILS???

Priorities, people. Priorities.

I Know, I Know...

2006-08-09T12:59:00.000-04:00

I never call; I never write. You feel abandoned. And I can't blame you really. May I extend this post as an olive branch?

Things are good here. I am still working at The Suck Job for the rest of this week. And I am scrambling to get things done, because I have blown off, oh everything, for the past two months. The train has pulled up to Procrastination Station, and I have a ticket to hop on board.

I start training for my teaching job next week. I have very excited about meeting some adjunct/TA intellectual types. And figuring out how this freshman comp program works. It is vastly different than the program at FSU.

I am looking forward to this new chapter in my life. I promise to share more with you, as time permits.

Can we be friends again?

The Roommate

2006-08-01T11:09:00.000-04:00

Our friend, Matt, moved in with us this week. I know, I know... Amy and I just got married. You would think we would want to establish our little love nest (BLECH!) all alone... just the two of us. Nah.

We have lived together for two years. We have a lovely home. That is big enough for a family of four. You think I jest. I assure you, I do not. I can also assure you that I came into this relationship with a fair amount of debt. Matt's financial contribution as our roommate will make a much needed dent in said debt.

Besides, I have always wanted to live in a commune.

Okay, not really. But sharing living space is a fascinating endeavor.

Amy and I have had to simplify some things to make the shift in adding an additional person to our household. In doing so, Amy has created her own space in our third room. Which is important. Everyone needs their own space. Especially Ames. Trust me.

And I have spent much time trying to figure out how to feed the three of us healthy, economic meals. Without shopping at Sam's Club. But I like the idea of planning menus ahead of time. And the pressure to make something other than mac and cheese for dinner (okay, we rarely eat mac and cheese, but you get my drift).

And then there is the simple fact that Mattie is a charming fellow. One of my closest friends, really. I feel lucky to get to spend this time with him before he graduates from USF in May and takes off to who-knows-where.

Besides, since Amy saw a snake in the ferns, she has a phobia of mowing the lawn. Drastic measures had to be taken.

So, if you are in the Tampa Bay area, feel free to visit the Kellogg-Russell household. There will be a cold beer waiting for you.

Foot, Meet Mouth

2006-07-26T13:00:00.000-04:00

This past Friday, Amy and I went with a group of our friends to crash the Mary Poppins Sing-Along. We decided hit The Hub before hand, for some adult beverages.

(Look, if you were wearing a dog outfit, you would want a beverage too!)

Amy Kellogg was hanging back in front of the Tampa Theatre after our photo shoot, talking to folks in the 90 degree, 80% humidity weather... so I decided to head into The Hub with Melissa, a friend of ours who happens to be Amy's ex-girlfriend.

Now, as much as I hate to admit it, Melissa and I didn't exactly hit it off well when we first met. You know, the ex-girlfriend/new girlfriend clash. The tension between us has long since dissipated (thankfully)... but our very rocky start is key to this story.

Outside of The Hub, Melissa and I run into Julie, an old Kellogg family friend. She knew Melissa when Melissa and Amy were together, and she has known me since Kellogg and I met. Julie was also at our wedding.
Melissa and I both hug Julie hello and we all head into the smoky, dive atmosphere that is The Hub. Kellogg is still in the stifiling heat chatting someone up, mind you.

At this point, it becomes clear that Julie has had more than one cocktail. Cool. It is Friday. Get your party on, and whatnot.

Julie: (leaning toward Melissa) So, how is married life treating you?
Melissa: (looking perplexed) Dude, I'm not married...
Kendra: (looking at Melisssa in shock) Did you forget to tell us something?
(Melissa left the country for almost a year, and she was dating someone when she left. Did they get married in South America and not tell anyone??)
Julie: Well, did you get the marriage anulled?
Melisssa: (getting visibly aggitated and increasingly confused) Julie, I SWEAR, I didn't get married!
*pause*
Melissa: (a light of comprehension, then something akin to panic) OH MY GOD, JULIE. Did you think I married KELLOGG. KENDRA (gesturing emphatically in my direction) married Kellogg.
************

Folks, this is reason number 312 to regulate your alcohol consumption. Poor Julie.

All Over the Place

2006-07-25T15:38:00.000-04:00

Gosh, I am just all over the place right now...

At the end of August, I will begin a new job as an Ajunct English Instructor at the University of South Florida (Tampa). I will be teaching five classes (ENC 1101 and 1102).

I am so beside myself with excitement that I may spontaneously combust.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

2006-07-21T10:56:00.000-04:00

Things are going to ROCK here in Tampa tonight! We are going to the Mary Poppins Sing-A-Long at the Tampa Theatre. There will be singing! And goody bags! And costumes!*

Guess who I am going to be?!? Guess! Okay, I will tell you....

Andrew! (look for me in the Minor Characters section)

*Pictures will appear on Squirrelly or Just Salt on Monday.

Are You Down with G-O-D?!?

2006-07-20T15:32:00.000-04:00

Today, I got a call from the Director of All Things Bible Study at my church. He asked if I wanted to lead a Disciple I Bible Study course. Stop laughing. Okay, it really isn't that funny. DUDE, stop laughing so I can tell you the story!

I am incredibly flattered that he asked me to lead this class (I would be leading it with one or two other folks). And when I say flattered, I mean... well, I just mean flattered, alright? This is exactly the kind of opportunity I was looking for when I joined this church. And what makes this opportunity even more significant is that he contacted me because the facilitators from the class I took last year gave me rave reviews. These are some of the most intelligent, introspective Christians I know. That they think that highly of me ... well, let's just say that this is more of an ego-boost that I could ever have hoped for.

But I can't do it. I can't teach the class.

I am trying to change jobs, and I just don't know where I am going to land. I have no concept of what my schedule will be, what the demands on my time will be. Hell, I don't even know where I will be WORKING (let's just hope it isn't a job where every interaction with a customer ends with, "Would you like to Super Size that?"). And I can't take on this type of responsibility and flake out. I would never forgive myself for that. So I had to pass it up.

But the GOOD news is that I think I WILL be teaching a short- term class (8 weeks, as opposed to 32 weeks) at some point this Fall. This is just the push I needed in my spiritual life, which had been lagging of late. Funny how God seems to know these sorts of things, no?

And, for the record, all of that laughing you were doing earlier about me leading Bible Study ... Just because I drink and can throw a dirty word or two around doesn't mean I do not have a rich faith that is incredibly meaningful to me.

C'mon, admit it... you KNOW I would be a bad ass Bible Study leader, don't you? That's right!

Tuesday Afternoon Outing

2006-07-19T14:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of making my third trip to the gynecologist (or as Amy likes to say, "the down-there doctor," as she points vaguely towards the lower half of her body) this year. This year has been the Year of the Abnormal Pap. And, yes, it has been as fun as it sounds.

Yesterday they did a colposcopy. Now, if you go to the posted link and read through the article, you will notice it says they may do a biopsy if some of the cells seem irregular. Somehow, I seemed to have blocked that out. Biopsy? Who, me? No, no.. they are just going to look at the cells. No big deal!

So, the doctor is "down there" looking through a gigantic microscope. She calmly informs me that I will need to stop flinching, because it looks rather like an earthquake when I do. "You wouldn't want me to get motion sickness down here, would you?" she quips. Uh, look lady, all due respect but I don't want you down there at all! And if you don't stop being so chipper, I am libel to kick you in the head.

Then she says, "Okay, honey, for me to really see what is going on, I am going to have to pop your cervix up a bit."

I am SORRY??? You are going to do what? Pop my cervix up. Uh huh. Sounds lovely. Will you buy me dinner afterward? By the way, the popping of the cervix... doesn't feel so hot.

As if the giant microscope and the popping cervix weren't enough for one day, she informed me that she couldn't really tell if the cells were abnormal at all. So, yeah, the biopsy I blocked out of my mind. Uh huh.

"Alright," she says, "you are just going to feel a little prick on your cervix."

I will leave you with that folks. A little prick on your cervix. Who could ask for more on a Tuesday afternoon?

Coffee Diaries

2006-07-13T13:56:00.000-04:00

Amy and I were in the car one fine Saturday morning, when the need for a latte hit me full force. Usually I can skate by on coffee made at home. I very reasonably tell myself that coffee does not have to cost $3.50 to be good... and then I tremble in a corner thinking about the frothiness of the latte, and how I deserve one, how I long for the cinnamon sprinkled on the froth.... So, this time I decided to forgo the trembling and just cave in to my desire for a latte. $3.50 be damned!

I hopped out of the car at Starbucks (a little too quickly for any shred of dignity to remain) and was skipping toward the door, when I noticed that Amy had gotten out of the car. Curious. Because Amy has a phobia of Starbucks. I can say Grande, Skinny Latte and her eyes glaze over. Yet, she was following me into the store.

Once we got inside and I ordered my Grande, Skinny Latte, Amy was beginning to look a little pale. She managed to stammer something indicating that she would have whatever I had ordered.

Gosh, Ames, I didn't know you liked lattes...? (She looks at me helplessly and staggers toward the door).

We settle back into the car, with our to-go cups with lids (for added safety!), and resume our Saturday morning frivolity. I sip away contentedly on my latte, relishing the cinnamon sprinkles...

Amy: What the hell? How do you ever drink this stuff?
Kik: (coming out of a trance-like state of bliss) Huh? Oh... you don't LIKE it? (sounding rather accusatory)
Amy: Well, it would be fine if I could DRINK it.
Kik: (just looking confused)
Amy: It comes out one drop at a time. It is like drinking my damn coffee out of an eyedropper!
Kik: Um? Amy? You have to suck a little bit on the opening in the lid... you know, to get it to come out....
Amy: (profane profanity inserted) What the HELL?!? I didn't know that! Who knew that?!? How would I know to suck on that?
Kik: Oh dear God.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Last night, Amy and I rode our bikes up to Borders. For coffee. And to read magazines.
The coffee is, again, in to go cups with lids (because we were sitting outside).

Kik: (reading)
Amy: OH MY GOD, I JUST GOT COFFEE IN MY EYE. Coffee, Kik. In my EYE. It just shot right up through the opening in the top of the cup. And went in my EYE. How does that happen?????
Kik: God help me.

And Now... A Story

2006-07-11T16:17:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, Amy and I went to Bike Fest 2006 to meet some potential new friends that, perhaps, would have bikey natures like Amy's. Because I can only talk about bikes for so long, before I spontaneously combust. Which is messy. But that is another story. Anyway, bike friends for Amy! Whooo! We had fun. And met nice people. And Amy had someone other than me to discuss bikes with for almost two hours. And I didn't combust! Yes, another successful Saturday morning!

On the way home, we decided to stop by Dogwater Cafe. It was recommended. And when I say that I mean that someone had told us there was cold beer and food there. It was hot out. And it was nigh on beer-thirty. And FOOD! I love food! Sounded like the perfect end to Amy's bike adventure to me.

First inclination something was amiss: The restaurant smelled like someone had bottled that lovely wet dog smell and used it like potpourri. Did we run away? HECK NO! We ordered a beer! I told you it was beer-thirty.

And the beer? Lukewarm (even WITH the ice pack built into the pitcher! A travesty, you say? I agree!)

Food? I suppose you could call it that. We ordered grouper nuggets... which also doubled as grouper jerky. Or grouper leather. You decide. And the curly fries? They were called Poodles. Because it was Dogwater Cafe, you see. And our food? It was served in dog bowls. Uh huh.

Oh, the injustice of it all!

(Eh... don't get too caught up in my woe. There was cold beer at home.
Another happy moment, brought to you by Miller Lite in a can!)

Monday, Monday

2006-07-10T15:32:00.000-04:00

You know how sometimes you are just plugging along through a Monday... just kind of neither here nor there about it... then SUDDENLY someone pops their head into your office to tell you it is ice cream social time? Yeah, that's what today was like.

No, literally. I had a brownie sundae with bananas, dark chocolate syrup and toffee sprinkles. Scrumptious. (but the word scrumptious isn't really scrumptious at all... definitely not an onomatopoeia)

On Spot, A Stripe

2006-07-07T12:33:00.000-04:00

I let the dogs out this morning with a bit of trepidation. Actually, EVERY time I let the dogs out, it is with a bit of trepidation. You just never know what is going to happen when our dogs are introduced to the great expanse of our suburban, fenced-in back yard.

Jed is a avid lizard hunter, always on the lookout, guarding the perimeter against lizard foes. When I open the back door, she goes tearing outside. Every time. Must protect family from lizard evil-doers. Milo... well, she is just bizarre. She wanders around the yard like she is looking for something. She stares, sometimes at the grass, sometimes at the fence. Then she takes off, chasing imaginary friends maybe. Milo rarely wants to come back inside when she is called. She prefers to sun in the yard. And when I call her, she looks at me like a sullen teenager. Nice. And sometimes she just tunnels out of the backyard. No fence is going to hold her back. No, sir. She is going to ... uh... yeah, I am not sure what she does when she gets out but she is always back within half an hour. It's like sneaking out your bedroom window as a teenager, simply to sit on your own driveway. Lame. But annoying, nonetheless.

Anyway, I let the dogs out this morning. I made my coffee and got them a bowl of water. We like to enjoy our beverages as a family, don't you know. So, Jed is slinging water all over the floor and I call Milo to come inside. She does... on the first call. Then Milo and Jed commence pushing each other around to get the best spot at the bowl. I looked down and noticed clay rubbed all the way down Milo's right side. In a straight line. What in the world?

Now, please note that I don't have on my glasses at this point. Which means I am as blind as a bat. So, I bend very close to wipe Milo off. Close enough to realize that that isn't dirt... it's POOP. IN A STRAIGHT LINE, LIKE A RACING STRIPE.

Only Milo. Seriously.

I Ain't Missing You (no matter what my friends say)

2006-07-05T14:17:00.000-04:00

Five days without Amy is a long time. Even when I am having an absolute blast with my best friend, my sister and Shanna ... there is still a void without Amy. It is a sort of nebulous void, skirting around the fun but still letting me know it is there. Like when we would all be laughing at something silly, and I would turn around to catch Amy's expression ... but she wasn't there. Or when we would all be toasting to chosen family... without Amy. It is amazing to love someone so much that, even in the best of times, you know that her presence would only make the time that much sweeter.

I love you, little Amy.

May I Have A Side of Cardboard With That?

2006-06-28T13:41:00.000-04:00

Although Amy and I work across the street from each other, we rarely lunch together. After all, we spend 90% of our free time together, so lunch together constantly would seem a bit like overkill. But today, I decided that I wanted to take little Ames out somewhere fun. So I grabbed the Tia's Tex-Mex coupon on the way out of the house this morning, figuring we could lunch together. Please keep in mind that I LOVE a coupon. I am not cheap by any means, but I get a huge kick out of getting, say, two entrees for the price of one. TWO entrees. ONE charge. Brilliant, isn't it?!?

I picked Amy up at work. We squabbled. Because what good is a lunch date, if you can't royally screw it up right off the bat with some good old-fashioned bickering? We got over ourselves. I mean, how pissy could I really be? I had that two for one coupon, remember?

Amy ordered a lunch burrito with chicken. I got a Su Casa Creation (cheesy. The name, not the food) with a beef crunchy taco and a chicken enchilada. I was hyped. I enjoy Tex-Mex. And, while Tia's is on the way home from work, we never really consider it as an option for dinner. Perhaps we were unwittingly wise.

My taco tasted like cardboard. Truly. I had to salt my taco for it to taste like anything. And then I had to dump salsa in it, because then it just it tasted like salty cardboard. My enchilada? Cardboard. Beans and rice? Cardboard? Check! Amy wasn't faring any better with her meal, so she asked if we could order some queso for her burrito that looked like it had been microwaved and then placed under a heat lamp. Queso makes everything better, right? Not when it tastes like cardboard! Folks, I swear to you that this stuff wasn't even Velveeta. It was liquid cardboard. Which they charged us $2.10 for.

It's okay, though. Apparently it wasn't a total wash. Amy said that her sweet tea was good.

When the Binkie Fairy Comes, Can I Have Another Binkie?

2006-06-27T13:17:00.000-04:00

I am working today. No, no... not like I am AT work. I am actually DOING work. Sound the alarm; my brain may explode. I have written 3 sentences of a 15 page grant and, WHOOO!, am I spent.

In other news... Angie, Matthew, Amy and I went to Ballyhoo Grill for dinner last night. I find it a rather odd phenomenon that everytime we take Angie out to eat at a place we like, there is something wrong with her food. Last night, the salmon was overcooked. Granted, they did bring it out on a cedar plank that was still smoldering, but still... They get cool points for presentation, but no one wants to eat fish that resembles shoe leather.

Ames and I headed home after dinner and a quick trip to Borders, and I promptly crawled up on the couch with my blanket and pillow. Remember that PMS I mentioned yesterday? Yeah. Tired, lethargic and cranky... that's me! Want to come over and hang out?

Anyway, about 5 minutes after I had finished my Slim-A-Bear (I love a Slim-A-Bear... which I try to say as often as possible. You would be surprised how many times I can say Slim-A-Bear in one conversation. Go on. Say it. Slim-A-Bear. Now you want one, don't you?), I got up to grab some tostito chips. Amy shot me a sideways glance. You know the glance...the "do you REALY want to eat those?" glance.

To which I responded: Look Amy, just let it go... just think of them as a salty pacifier.

Besides, salty goodness aside, we were fresh out of Slim-A-Bears.

A Sure Sign

2006-06-26T14:02:00.000-04:00

It is a sure sign that I am PMSing when I go to Bennigan's and order this for lunch:

MONTE CRISTO
A delicious combination of ham and turkey, plus Swiss and American cheeses on wheat bread. Lightly battered and fried until golden. Dusted with powdered sugar and served with red raspberry preserves for dipping.

That's right folks... fried goodness the size of my head. Rockin'!

Summertime

2006-06-23T15:36:00.000-04:00

There is something priceless about having a heartfelt, albeit intoxicated, conversation on the front porch at 1 a.m. on a school night with one of your closest friends. Something that makes you feel a little more carefree, a little less weighed down, a little ... younger. It is a phenomenal experience. I strongly suggest you try it soon.

It is definitely worth the morning-after hangover.

Uh, Can I Help You? Uh, PLEASE?

2006-06-22T10:47:00.000-04:00

Jezebel and I have a rather special relationship. She was a Christmas present from my then-girlfriend. I had wanted a boxer for several years. Then, Christmas of 2000, one just waddled my way (out of our roommate's bedroom where she had been hidden). I have been in love with Jezebel (or Jedda, or Jed, or Jeddapoohpoohhead) ever since.

Now, I am not saying our relationship has been without its problems. There was that 6 month spell where I went NUTS after said girlfriend and I split up. Jed seems to have forgiven me for it, though (as have most of my friends). And it wasn't easy on Jed when Amy and I started dating: Uh, Mom, WHY can't I sleep on your head anymore? Yes, there was a lot of sighing from Jed when Amy and I got together (she is prone to sighing... um, Jed not Amy). But she has warmly embraced Amy as her Second Mom since then.

But I digress (but you couldn't even TELL I was digressing, could you?!?). Jed and I have a favorite game. I hide under the comforter and talk to her. She promptly loses her mind and paws at my head, trying to dig me out (at least I know if I fell in a well and then there was an avalanche, she would know what to do). It is a fun, albeit rather painful, game. Except that now, every time I duck my head for any reason she finds it necessary to paw at my head. Not so fun all the time.

Last night I put Jed and Milo outside, so that I could do some stretches. As soon as Jed saw me stretch out toward my feet and put my head down... pawing at the door. Like a maniac. Head down: (Paw. Paw. Paw.) Wait! I have to rescue my mom! She's...
Head up: Oh yeah, uh she's okay now. I was wor...
Head down: (Paw. Paw. Paw.) Wait! Uh, apparently my mom needs me! Uh, hello?!?

And so it went for quite some time. And you know what? It was funny EVERY TIME. It's the small things in life folks, the small things.

Poor Jedda.

By the Way...

2006-06-21T11:04:00.000-04:00

I really haven't lost my mind (in case the post below frightened you a bit). I just want something meaningful to do with my life, something where I can really help people. I am just in the process of deciding how to best achieve that goal.

Worrywarts.

Today...

2006-06-21T10:31:00.000-04:00

I am spending some time thinking what I might like to be when I grow up. Right now, I am fixated on being a nutritionist. Unfortunately, I picked a career path to fixate upon that is not offered in Bachelor's Degree form at USF. Of course.

I would really like to study holistic health. Do folks still think holistic health practitioners are quacks? And how do you know if a program for holistic health is ... well... non-quacky?

Just some thoughts to ease you into your Wednesday morning...

Lessons?

2006-06-20T10:36:00.000-04:00

Apparently, I am being taught to be VERY grateful for my health. And to take better care of myself.

Sunday and Monday marked the second time in a month that I have been horribly ill. Not like the times that I call in sick to work because I have a headache. Or because I sneezed once. No, those are marks of loathing my job and wanting to be anywhere except work. THIS, this was nasty.

Estelle and Jean were kind enough to share Charlie with us on Saturday. Much fun was had by all. We watched Finding Nemo together (I finally got to see the end! And Amy got to see the movie for the 412th time!). I danced with Charlie. And flew him around the living room like a plane. The girls gave us some necessary information/materials for our future endeavors to have a child. All was well. Good times. Good friends.

And, then, on Sunday Amy and I both contracted the Illness of Doom: Puke Fest 2006. DISGUSTING. I think I promised God I would become a nun if I would just NOT THROW UP AGAIN. Geez, I hope I didn't really promise that nun thing. Does God have a 30 day return policy on promises made under duress?

No matter how bad I felt, Amy had it worse. I have never seen anything like that. I was getting really frightened for her last night. She just couldn't keep ANYTHING down. Poor little thing.

Today found me feeling MUCH better. I woke up to the Today Show (I have been sleeping on the couch since the Illness of Doom). I actually ate a piece of toast with Brummel and Brown (I heart Brummel and Brown). And now I am sipping (ever so gingerly) on a cup of coffee.

I wish I could say the same for my girl. She even sounds green over gmail chat. Poor little booger.

Nuh uh... For REAL?

2006-06-15T16:45:00.000-04:00

Amy made me coffee this morning. And she woke me up with a kiss on the forehead.

Who IS this woman, and what has she done with Amy?

Do I Know You, Little Girl?

2006-06-14T15:43:00.000-04:00

I always swore I wouldn't get caught up in the mundane, soul-sucking minutiae that makes up middle class existence. Oh no! Not I! I would remain unflagging in my quest to make the world a more egalitarian place, with fair trade coffee at every meeting! I would take to the streets for each and every injustice heaped upon the less fortunate. I would boycott products made by companies that showed a blatant disregard for the environment. Hell, I would make my own tampons if I had to! Power to the People!

Right.

I finally pulled my head out of my own ass the other day to discuss with my wife (is that what I am supposed to call her? I hate that. Partner? Is that better? Companion? Soul-mate? My bitch? Just kidding! I was just checking to see if you were still reading) what it is that I want to do with my life.

I mean, I know I want to get married. Check! And I want to have children. Planning stage: check! But, beyond that, what is going to make me happy? My dream job would be teaching First Year Writing at USF or HCC. Cool. If I want to eat peanut butter and bread, sell our house and ride to work on a moped. Otherwise, adjuncting cannot be my primary occupation. But what steps am I going to take so that, ultimately, I can teach at the college level? These are the questions I have begun to grapple with. Why, you ask? Because there is no more wedding to plan. Because today is the first day of the rest of my life. Because I don't want the only things in my life to be my partner and my (future) child. Methinks that would make me quite the dull partner and mother.

Also... I haven't been writing. Don't think I have been neglecting my adoring fans in the computer in favor of the old standby: the journal. Oh no. The journal has been shunned, too. Why? Because I feel as though I have nothing to say. I sit here and stare at the computer and realize that my job is eating my brain. Dull! I have become dull!

Amy and I discussed art the other night, while we were pondering the meaning of the universe. I don't write creatively. I am not particularly good at it. Hell, at this point I wonder if I am good at writing at all. I read my blog heroes (Dooce and Finslippy) and wonder why I blog at all. I have less than a fraction of their wit, charm and style. But I also obviously am not trying very hard. One post a week certainly doesn't equate to honing one's writing skills.

But I digress... my art form (and MANY will argue that it is not an art form at all) is the analysis of literary works. I love it. Thrive on it. NEED it. I miss the hours of research, the dissection of theory, the moment a connection clicks and you have to celebrate with two cups of coffee and 4 cigarettes because it is THAT exciting (and it is 4 a.m. and the paper is due at 9 a.m. and there are 25 pages left to be written). I miss the intellectual stimulation.

So, what is to be done regarding this conundrum that your heroine faces?

I will participate in the Scheherazade Project. Even though I am scared. Even though I don't DO creative writing. At least this will ensure that my brain doesn't completely die. And it will give the other participants a reason to feel better about themselves.
I will figure out the most logical and practical way to get my foot in the door as an adjunct (without testing the limits of my sanity). I may not be able to count on adjuncting as my primary income, but I can't give up that easily (that was my other realization: I give up WAY too easily).
I will begin a paper in the next 2 months, which I will send to a literary journal upon completion. I am currently searching for the novels that I might want to use. And I am almost completely sold on diving back into gender theory for this project. Almost.

I will not sit by and allow my brain to atrophy! I will not lose my soul to middle class existence! Tequila shots for all! Oops, where did that come from...?

Anyone up for happy hour?

A Smidge Damp, But No Worse for the Wear

2006-06-13T15:10:00.000-04:00

Rain. Lots of rain. This brush with a tropical storm was primarily a rain event with a smidge of wind. Sounded pretty much like every other summer storm that rolls through the Tampa Bay area. Even the dogs didn't get all riled up. Nope. They slept right through it.

In other news, I am actively pursuing a teaching job with Hillsborough County Schools. I have sent in my cover letter/resume to five middle schools. The high schools will go out tomorrow. Unfortunately, if you teach high school English, folks also seem to think you should coach softball or teach t.v. production or something. Uh.... no. There are only three high school positions in the county that don't require that I do a side circus act in order to teach English. Good lord. I thought there was a teacher shortage?

I have sent in my application to Hillsborough Community College and USF to adjunct as an English instructor. Unfortunately, unless I want to teach about 8 classes (which would have to be spread out between several institutes of higher learning) I would only make about $300 every two weeks. Huh. Yeah. Unless my mortgage is going to pay itself, I don't see adjuncting being my primary source of income... And there is that little bit about health insurance. If I adjunct, I don't get health insurance. So, I would have to self insure at a rate of about $230/month. Oops! There goes one paycheck right there! So, teaching at the college level will have to remain a side gig... for the time being, at least.

That's the scoop on the job front...

And The Trees Were RIPPED from Their Roots...

2006-06-12T15:44:00.000-04:00

Growing up in Florida, you realize early on that hurricanes are a staple for local media personalities. They THRIVE on hurricanes. The drama. The humanity. The sheer horror of it all. It is incredibly difficult to gauge how serious the threat actually is, when there is the constant barrage of "hunker down" and "state of emergency" banter being tossed about.

Now, a mere 11 days after the beginning of the 2006 hurricane season, Tampa Bay is under a Hurricane Watch as Tropical Storm Alberto approaches. Didn't we just FINISH a hurricane season? Yes, it is part of living in Florida. Yes, I am incredibly grateful that we were spared any significant weather event last season. But... ALREADY?

Sure does make November 30th seem like a long, long time from now....