NaBluhhhh

It's the last day of NaBloPoMo, and I'm done for another year! I missed three days this time around, which I think is a dubious new record for me. I'm glad to have attempted it--and glad it's over.

Past the Future

Here's a picture I found as I was going through old folders earlier today: David and me in the Abraham shirts Brother Rockstar sent us.

Oh! I'm back in Minneapolis, after a relatively uneventful, though long, bus ride home.

Now I must sleep.

Bob's Your Uncle

Actually, Bob's my uncle, and he took this photo of my grandparents and me this afternoon in his and my aunt Lyn's living room. It's been great getting to spend time with them this weekend.

Family

I found this photo, of all the cousins on my dad's side, circa 1987, in my grandma's photo album this afternoon.

Spending an inordinate amount of time downloading and installing drivers that would allow Little Lappy to communicate with my grandpa's scanner was absolutely worth being able to keep this little gem and others.

Thanksgiving

This is my pie! The crust is rather ugly, but my grandma said her mother used to say that the sheen (which the lappy webcam actually did manage to capture) was the sign of a good pumpkin pie. It certainly was tasty! Our old family recipe (off the Libby's can) didn't fail me (and neither did David's mom's crust recipe--rolled out with the rolling pin* that belonged to my great-grandfather the baker).

The pie was just one facet of a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with my grandparents and aunt and uncle: totally worth Bus Adventurin'!

*The Google tells me it's a style known as a French rolling pin--just a bar, without handles. I loved it!

Stationed

I forgot to mention yesterday that the main reason waiting for the bus is worse than being on the bus is that you have to stand in a frequently-jumped (or perhaps it just appears so, with all the "saved" spaces) line, with no guarantee that you'll actually get on the bus, since Greyhound tickets only guarantee you a seat on that route at some point, and not necessarily for your requested reservation. However, they have a new feature called Priority Boarding that is both a total racket (paying an extra $5 for a ticket I've already purchased?!) and a complete lifesaver ($5 for peace of mind that you're guaranteed a seat on the bus, not having to stand in a long line, and first shot at the "extra legroom" seats). And, really, when you're getting from Mpls to Chicago for a mere $25 anyway, that extra $5 is more than worth it.

Anyway, that was last night. This morning I got to spend a few hours in the Chicago Greyhound station. Our driver got us into Chicago almost two hours early, which I can definitely see being beneficial under certain circumstances--but not when it means two hours sitting in the Chicago Greyhound station instead of sleeping on the Greyhound bus, with its warmer temperatures, comfier seats, and quieter environment. (Our driver was a total superstar, I thought, for calling out people whose music he could hear through their headphones and asking them to turn it down, making it an especially quiet and pleasant ride.) It would have been one thing had those two extra hours come at a useful time of day, but since they were between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m., there was little else to do but sit in the station and wait for my 7:00 MegaBus (which doesn't have a station of its own and is a few blocks away near Union Station).

I foggily picked out a seat and got out my Kindle, only to be interrupted by the bellowing of a woman on a bench several yards from me. "Are we on?" she demanded. I quickly glanced over at her and thought I saw her wearing earbuds, which I assumed meant she was on the phone with someone. A few minutes later, in her rather deep, insistent, and equally loud voice, she repeated, "Are we on, America? Are. We. On!"

America, I assumed, must be her daughter, whom the woman seemed to find almost unbearably stupid, and who was doing the talking during the woman's long pauses. Her tone was certainly no-nonsense, and bordered on big tent revival preacherly; it definitely carried through the station.

And then: "I can't produce. God took that ability from me two years ago. Anybody who makes me try to produce will get killed!" Her voice rose into an emphatic growl at this last pronouncement, and I wondered if that were the sort of threat that would merit security intervention. I still thought she might be on the phone, but was increasingly convinced that she was also crazy. (I remember someone pointing out recently that it's much harder to tell the crazy from the sane these days, since we all walk around talking to ourselves--on our mobile devices.)

"They... gave me... the wrong... type of blood!"

And then the statement that erased any doubt about her sanity: "They are idiots if they think they can make blood from Kool-Aid!" That raised a small, knowing chuckle from the station. Ahh, she's just a crazy person--maybe with a sense of humor?

I returned to my reading and when I looked up later, she was gone. She reappeared some time later, tying a blue sweatshirt securely around the waist of her puffy brown coat.

Then I got up, popped my contacts in and brushed my teeth, and headed out of the station to get onto my next bus.

It Starts

Epic Bus Journey 2010 starts in 70 minutes, so I'm heading out the door to the Greyhound station! David has kindly offered to keep me company, which is really generous; the worst part of the trip, in my experience (other than uneven temperatures, as has cursed me on various MegaBus trips [about which I believe I've written here, but lack the time to reference directly]), is waiting in the station.

I'll try to post tomorrow! In the meantime, feel free to send good, soothing, happy-travel vibes my way--and good, soothing, happy-travel vibes to those of you who will also be traveling in the next few days!

Holidays

In less than 24 hours, I'll be on a bus headed for Indianapolis. As I mentioned earlier, I'm excited to get out of town and see that part of the family, if somewhat less thrilled about the very long bus ride.

I've also been informed that I'm in charge of the pie for Thanksgiving dinner. I've only made one full pie in my entire life, and that was only a few weeks ago, so it should be exciting! I'm going to try traditional pumpkin. I was assigned pie duty because apparently I have a reputation for being a good cook; I told David that was kind of like saying, "You run marathons; you should join our wrestling team!" Still, successful pie-making seems like a grown-up Badge of Honor (so many of which I still seem to be lacking; one gets so few points for graduate degrees, for instance), so I'm hoping it works out.

Anyway, our weatherman is saying that tomorrow's supposed to be the best day for travel, as Wednesday will bring more precipitation of some sort (we had more freezing rain, topped by snow, today). David will be flying that day, so I'm hoping he gets out without incident. Wednesday has been designated a day of protest against the TSA's new invasive "security" measures, so that may also add to the drama.

Apparently one way to protest is to not fly, and, as you know, I'm all over that.

Ice

So I was telling Hathor yesterday that I hadn't missed a day of NaBloPoMo since the second day... and then I missed yesterday. Sigh.

Last night David and I went to a friend's birthday party in Northeast, leaving at about 9:15 after having spent most of the afternoon inside after morning errands (one of which was my attempt to go to yoga, but turning around and coming home after not being able to find free parking, running late, and not having my wallet!). The weather was chilly when we headed out, but otherwise unremarkable.

During the party, though, we began to get freezing rain. I got a text from a friend who had intended to come, but on her way had spun 720° on the freeway as she tried to change lanes! She and her car had been unscathed, but she had made her way back home for the night and wanted to let us know how bad it was out.

When the party broke up and we headed outside, everything was covered in a layer of ice. David and I shuffle-slid our way to his car, where we were greeted by a group of kids in a circle in the middle of the road, doing a sort of black-ice dance involving a sort of sliding shuffle-step, some sort of chanting, and laughing. As he scraped the ice off all the windows, the kids exuberantly continued to slip, slide and fall. They were still there as we very slowly pulled away from the curb and very slowly made our way home.

Thankfully, it was literally a straight shot there--just two turns at the last two blocks--and almost entirely flat. David drove very carefully, and we made it home without sliding into anything or being slid into (pedestrians the likeliest culprits).

And today I haven't left the house. A friend came over for brunch and a long chat, and I stepped onto the back porch for a glimpse of a cardinal, but that's it! Hopefully the roads will be clear by tomorrow morning... though there's also a prediction of some more snow.

Harry Potter

(Every time I hear or say "Harry Potter," I think of this video.)

So, David and I just got back from watching the penultimate Harry Potter movie. If you've been hanging around these parts long, you may recall that I read the books for the first time just a couple of years ago. (Also, wow: how did my life get stuck in this weird repetitive loop where I spend every winter grading papers and moping? At least in 2007 I still got to escape to California for a few weeks...)

I hadn't watched any of the movies before I read the books, and many of the movies I didn't even see until last summer. Anyway, I enjoyed them, and saw #6 when it hit the theaters last summer.

The Deathly Hallows, tonight, was more of the same, and generally an enjoyable diversion--although I was disappointed to see almost everyone looking older and rather pudge. (I'm pretty sure the rest of the audience was just disappointed that part two doesn't come out until next summer.) I thought that the latter was noticeable in the very slow pace, which at times felt gratuitous; there are long stretches I'm sure would have hit the editing room floor had they been more pressed for time.

As it was, the movie was 2.5 hours long, so I'm glad we hit the earlier showing. Thankfully, the theater wasn't even crowded, and in fact was surprisingly empty, which suited me fine. We ran into a couple of friends in the lobby and sat together, which was fun.

Bullets

• Today we finally hit Winter Cold here; it was 19° with the windchill.
• I know that in a month or two, 19° will sound balmy.
• We haven't had more than a sprinkle of snow since our storm last weekend, but winter seems here to stay.
• It's hard to believe I ran in shorts just over a week ago.
• It's also a little hard to believe the news I just got from my credit card: the fees for things like late payments are going down!
• In fact, if the payment due is less than $100, they won't charge you a fee at all.
• Is that you, Obama?!
• I bought this sweater today at Gap, in blue.
• It was 40% off and I had a Groupon.
• I've never owned a cowl sweater, and I love how cozy this one is; the cowl neck is huge!
• Unfortunately, it's pretty itchy. I need to find
• In between that bullet and this one, I searched for, and found, a base layer that I hope will work.
• I'd been wanting a long-sleeved silk layer for this winter; I just ordered this one (with a free shipping coupon code!) in black.
• I am a huge fan of silky baselayers in cold weather; they make winter here so much more bearable.
• Seriously. World of difference.
  

Grading

Uh-hmmmmmmm.

I spent all day grading exams and am about halfway done. The first half always takes longer than the second half, but I still write too many comments and generally take too long on all of them. I comfort myself with the fact that for their third and final exam, since we're not even returning them, I won't have to write any comments. And, really, by that point I pretty much know which students are going to fall into which grade brackets--so I'll only have to skim the exams for my overachievers, at least. Unfortunately, I also know I'll take too long on those, since I always picture my B and C students studying and trying really hard in a last-ditch effort for the final... but then they score as their usual B and C selves. There are rarely surprises.

I am also slightly comforted by the fact that after I returned their first exams, one of my students actually thanked me, in section that day, in front of the rest of the class, for the notes I'd written, and said they'd been helpful. That never happens, and it was really validating. In fact, did I already blog about that here? I know I thought about it, because it was such a rare flash of encouragement.
I don't enjoy grading under any circumstances, but I will say it's more enjoyable to grade papers and tests for which one has designed the assignment. Grading another professor's assignments, by his or her standards, is always a challenge. One more reason I'm ready to be done with this degree.

Blahg

Oh, NaBloPoMo, how tiresome you begin to seem, barely more than halfway through the month! I am not at all sure I'm cut out for daily blogging.

I submitted my fellowship application yesterday, and today my students took their second exams, so a tall pile of blue books awaits me.

What I really need to do is draft another chapter so I have something to present to dissertation workshop in a mere three weeks.

That's about all I've got today.

Microcosm

I boarded the 18 bus outside the public library. As usual that far up Nicollet, it was nearly empty, and I sat by the window in the first non-priority row of seats. Two African-American women sat in the bank of three seats in front of me, perpendicular to mine. The one nearest me carried an infant, whom she partially unswathed from a huge bundle of blankets, so that just her little fleece-hatted head was visible.

I watched bundled people shuffle along the sidewalks in rubber boots and sensible shoes.

At 9th, which is always a busy stop, the bus started to fill up. One man asked the bus driver how she was doing, and she replied that she was "blessed." He laughed loudly as he took his transfer and said that was a good answer. A statuesque young woman partially undraped herself from the priority seat on the other side of the bus from me so that an elderly woman carrying bags could sit there.

At the next stop, with the bus almost entirely full, the bus driver called out that she needed a seat up front, and a middle-aged woman vacated one of the priority seats. A man carrying a cane and squinting through thick round glasses shuffled to the seat and sat down.

At the stop after that, things got even more crowded. A large, shabby white man wearing a bright orange knit cap and laden with stuff got onto the bus. It was clear that he wanted a priority seat, and he did appear to meet the criteria, which he would later list aloud: he was a senior, with a disability. It was equally clear that the two women in front of me did not intend to relinquish any of the three they were occupying. He stood in front of them, holding the overhead rail, while they sniggered and made faces.

When possible, I avoid riding the bus at that time of the afternoon precisely to avoid this sort of uncomfortable crowding: no one relishes close contact with strangers, particularly not when they're wrapped in swinging bundles and a clear cloud of crazy. I usually sit with my backpack on my lap, shoulders squeezed up to make space, and try to distract myself with the view out the window. None of us likes it, but we all want to get where we're going as painlessly as possible, so we deal with it.

As the bus moved forward and it was clear the women in front of him were laughing at him more and more loudly and were displeased with his presence, the man began a litany of complaints: "I've had two heart attacks and a pulmonary embolism and now I have diabetes and have poor circulation in my leg!" They were unfazed. "I am on coumadin! If I fall down, I could die of internal bleeding!"

"You back the $*(% up or I'll give you internal bleeding right now! I will beat you!" the older of the two women said.

"I could kick you out of this seat, if I wanted to--"

"You just try and kick me out! I'd like to see you try!"

"I have a disability, and I could kick you out--"

As the bus moved forward, a water bottle strapped to the man swung forward, and the woman shoved it away.

"Don't you touch my stuff!" the man roared, raising his voice for the first time, and the woman rose from her seat to shout back, "Keep your stuff out of my face!"

She grabbed her bag and began to dig through it, saying, "Okay, I'm going to get my magic $#*^ out and make you back up..."

"What, do you have a gun in there?" he asked.

"No, I don't have a gun! But I have something else..."

"I'm going to call the police!" he said. "I'm going to call the police, don't you touch me..."

"I'll give you internal bleeding..."

Another woman standing at the front of the bus joined in. "This is because they're black, isn't it? You wouldn't be doing this is they were white!"

"This isn't racial!" he protested. "I'm not racist, I just want to sit down!"

The young mother, who had been talking into her cell phone, giving a running commentary on the "bum" in front of them, ripped into him. "You need to leave her alone and talk respectfully to this woman! She hasn't done anything to you, so you need to behave like a decent human being! Now you need to stop &#$%ing talking to her and leave her the &#(% alone!" She started quietly, but ended shouting in righteous indignation, clearly pleased with her performance, which drew appreciative chuckles.

We had stopped again, and the tall young man sitting beside me, who could barely fold his legs up in front of him to clear the aisle grabbed his girlfriend and said, "Come on, baby, we can walk--it's only a few blocks from here." They left, freeing two seats, and the people crowded near the front pointed out the open spaces. The man squeezed through and sank down beside me. I stared out the window.

A few blocks later, the two women rose to leave. So did the man beside me. "Oh, is this your stop? Guess who else is getting off here!" he said.

Despite her earlier threats to beat him, as they got off the bus, the older of the two women said dismissively, "We're not going to hurt him. We're just going to go our own way."

The man, however, did not appear comforted, and asked the driver to call the police. She said she was required to do so when asked by a passenger, and so we sat there, waiting. The bus cleared out as people got off. Another 18 stopped behind us, and passengers from our bus transferred. I stayed where I was, and as the other bus passed us, saw that it was, as expected, packed to the doors.

Eventually the driver told the man that the police would be there momentarily, and we pulled away again. At my stop eight blocks later, the driver was still so flustered that she didn't notice me at the back door and had to slam on the brakes, already partway into traffic, to let me out after several of us shouted "Back door!"

"Sorry," she said. "My bad."

This story doesn't have a point, exactly. The bus is frequently crowded, and is usually carrying a mix of crazies, the exhausted, and occasionally the loudly obnoxious. This isn't the first time I've seen the cops called; the last time I saw the officers pull a man off the bus who (loudly) couldn't understand why the business card he was holding wasn't a bus transfer. It's not always bad, and sometimes it's even fun: last week my jovial driver announced the stops in a sort of late-night DJ voice.

There's a fair amount of crazy in the world, and a fair amount of really unfair life circumstances, too. The city bus provides a more concentrated sample of each than one might ordinarily encounter, and in a necessarily intimate setting.

I found myself angry at the two apparently able-bodied women on the bus for not being grown-ups: for not sharing, for picking on someone who was clearly physically and mentally challenged, and for exposing that baby girl to all of it. I was angry about the playing of the race card, which seemed unfair and uncalled for, and angry that this is what the discussion of race looks like in America. But I didn't say anything.

Applying

I hate pretty much all applications, but I think fellowship applications top the list--partly because at this point in my educational career, the people against whom I am competing for these fellowships are Very Impressive Indeed, and although I don't want to compete against the alarmingly qualified and terrifying Them, I do want money to finish my dissertation and be done with that business. The other reason fellowship applications are awful is that one is forced to sound as Very Impressive as possible, whilst one is increasingly convinced of one's inadequacy generally (and especially against the imagined competition).

The fellowship application that I hope is that last I submit as a doctoral candidate* is due tomorrow. It has been especially fussy, with seven online pages of details, asking for things like a description of my commitment to women's activities and organizations and of awards I've won. This one is also unique in that it charges a $40 submission fee, which is particularly ironic, I think, given that one must also provide a "clear statement of financial need." I've already spent close to $30 on postage and transcripts from all my graduate work.

Siiiiiiigh.

*Assuming I can actually finish the degree, I am sure that this will not be my last fellowship application, because it just doesn't stop. I've somehow selected a career path that seems to involve asking for money, and other things, all the time, because there is no money in the field. There was some, and still is for those who got in about 40 years ago, but the rest is gone.

Snow

We had our first winter storm here today. I pretty much just stayed in and cooked and ate: roasted sweet and regular potatoes, fried eggs, cinnamon toast sticks, and coffee for breakfast; spicy lentils, baked potatoes, and salad for lunch; and toasted cheese sandwiches and pears for dinner.

That's pretty much the perfect snow day, in my opinion: nowhere to have to go, even for ingredients.

I did take a walk in the afternoon, to get out of the house, but it was entirely voluntary.

Clumsy

I somehow managed to break not one but two bowls today. The first was a cereal bowl, full of my breakfast (nine-grain and applesauce!), as I was heading out the door.* I don't remember it slipping from my grip, but I do remember it hitting the hardwood floor and exploding in a four-foot radius.

The second was a Pyrex mixing bowl I'd had for at least 10 years, which I dropped as I was trying to extricate a colander that was nested inside a salad bowl inside the Pyrex bowl. All three fell together from the low shelf; the glass salad bowl survived, but the mixing bowl shattered into tiny shards. David said out loud what I'd been thinking: I thought those things were indestructible!

Unbelievable bad luck, book-ending the day. The first droppage ruined breakfast (though I did grab a sad and only semi-consolatory bowl of cold cereal), but the second, thankfully, had little impact on dinner (spicy peanut soba noodles with steamed broccoli and carrots).

So, sigh. I'd mopped the floor in between the two incidents, partly to remove the last of the applesauce and fragments, so it felt like adding insult to injury to have my clean floor again covered in dangerous shards.

*Several months ago, I dropped a bowl of oatmeal and blueberries right at the downstairs door, as I tried unsuccessfully to maneuver it open with overloaded hands; this morning's drop occurred as I was figuratively, rather than literally, heading out the door: I was in the middle of the room, not even reaching for a handle!

Thursday

I've got nothing tonight. So here's a teaser from the album I still need to post of David's parents' visit.

Running*

Today I ran in shorts. Shorts! We hit 68° here today. By the time I was home from dissertation workshop and ready to head out, it was looking ready to storm, so I threw a long-sleeved shirt over my tank top. The rain held off, though, and I didn't need the extra shirt at all. In fact, I sweated. This weather is kind of freaking me out.

It's also great, though, because I really needed the run. I hadn't run since the Monster Dash, and was starting to feel crazy. I know they make drugs for this sort of thing, and I support their use, but I also know that a few miles spent getting my heart rate up does wonders for my mental state and doesn't require any troublesome prescriptions or appointments. Unfortunately, it's not side-effect free; my foot is pretty sore at the moment, and I've been hungry all night.

Hungry I can handle--and appreciate!--but the foot is troubling. How am I going to outrun the crazies on a broken foot?

*The title of the post reminds me of a costume I saw at the Monster Half: a refrigerator!

Bussin'

So I just booked my Thanksgiving travel. David is flying out to the Northwest, but as much as I wanted to join him, I just couldn't quite afford it. (Have you looked at airfares recently? They're ridiculous!)

Instead, I'm going to visit my Indiana relatives, with whom I spent Thanksgivings and the other odd long weekend when I was at school in Ohio, but whom I see far less regularly these days; it never fails to surprise me quite how far my corner of the Midwest is from their corner of it!

I'll be taking a couple of overnight buses (one going and one coming), which still mostly seems like a pretty good idea, for how affordable and relatively convenient they are. I'm a good sleeper, so it makes sense to me to travel then, when I wouldn't be accomplishing anything else during that time anyway. And the non-sleeping hours are prime reading time!

Unfortunately, as I was looking into the reserved seat option on Greyhound (which, it turns out, isn't actually available in my travel area anyway), I came across a few online reviews that reminded me of quite how horrific Greyhound travel can be. Still, overall my experiences have been decent enough that I'm willing to give it another go. I'm young, sleep like a brick, and am looking forward to seeing family I haven't spent time with in more than a year. If nothing else, you know it'll be good blog fodder.

X-ray

Google informs me that today is the 115th anniversary of the discovery of the X-ray. In commemoration, or something, here is an X-ray of my malfunctioning foot, complete with helpful arrow pointing out the "one little problem. That little guy right there."
This image was taken in April; I think we X-rayed it for the first time in January. Seeing a very visible cause for the continuing pain in my foot was simultaneously relieving and disturbing. Happy anniversary, X-ray.

DST

So Daylight Savings Time isn't all bad.

I had time before my usual 8am Sunday hot yoga to put together my sister's amazing cherry peach bread pudding so that it was ready when I got back. David and I had gone to the 9:40 showing of Get Low at the Riverview last night (which I thought was quite good), so the extra hour of sleep was decidedly welcome (as was the sunshine).

Of course, the fact that it was pretty much entirely dark here by 5:00 is a bummer. But before darkness fell, David and I made the most of an unseasonably warm day by packing a picnic and Nice Ride-ing around town. The Nice Rides go away for winter at 10pm tonight, so we tried to hit as many stops as we could today as a sort of last hurrah. We ate our sandwiches in the warm sunshine in Gold Medal Park, where we could hear the roar of the dome a few blocks away as the Vikings tied, and then in overtime won, their game.

Certainly gaining an hour in the fall is nicer than losing one in the spring, but overall I don't care for it. The evenings were already feeling long and dark, and although more daylight in the morning is nice, the whole thing mostly just feels like the knell of impending, interminable winter. (Which, I do realize, sounds somewhat ironic given today's jauntings about in the 65° sunshine, of which we've enjoyed an unseasonable amount already this autumn.)

At least I don't have kids to worry about! Good luck to those of you who have to deal with their schedules!

Halloween

Those of you who are my FaceBook friends have already seen it, but here is what David and I wore for Halloween. I was Marla Singer, and he was Dr. Tobias Fünke.

Unlike last year, for which we really schemed, these costumes came together at pretty much the last minute. Fun times.

Pasta

Suddenly it got late, so here, briefly, is last night's pasta recipe, which I'm calling

Quasi-Vegan Rotini Arrabbiata!

In a generous splash of olive oil, sautee a small onion, chopped, with two peeled carrots, also chopped. Add a bit of salt, freshly ground pepper, and a few good shakes of cayenne. When onions become transparent, throw in a small amount of water and a bay leaf and boil until carrots are tender. Add a can of tomato sauce (I used Hunt's) and some dried oregano and basil. Allow to simmer for a while, then toss in two or three cloves of minced garlic. Simmer a while longer, then remove bay leaf and use immersion blender to puree it all up. Add more cayenne if it needs more heat. I had a few tablespoons of leftover heavy whipping cream, so I threw that in, but the sauce tasted surprisingly buttery before I added any dairy--maybe the carrots?

Toss with al dente rotini (I used one box, and it was about perfect) and eat! Hearty, delicious, and full of fiber and vitamins. I made it with the extra fiber white pasta (Ronzoni Smart Taste), and it didn't seem to knock me out like pasta with tomato sauce sometimes does. A salad would have been perfect, but we made due with frozen peas.

It was so quick and easy to make with what is so often already in my cupboards and fridge that I'm sure I'll be returning to this recipe repeatedly!

Thursday

I've had U2's "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" in my head since about 7:00 this morning, when I caught myself thinking, "I can't believe the news today..."

I am filled with impotent rage toward the electorate. Rage!

Minnesota will probably elect a Democratic governor (there will be another Exciting Recount!), but have elected a Republican senate for the first time in 38 years, as well as turned over power in the House. Minnesota. It makes me want to weep. And Russ Feingold! Erin shared this link, which pretty much summarizes what's wrong with this country. Incredibly, embarrassingly, willfully obtusely wrong.

The one thing in which I find some solace is that it appears to have been mostly old, grumpy people who turned out, and not at all a representative cross section of the populace. (The apathy of my generation is small comfort, but it does suggest that there is still hope if they'd get off their bums and/or start paying attention.) This is the article I found as I was looking for a reference to support my claim about the voters' demographic stats; I thought it was pretty great.

Anyway, there are happier things to blog about: my great trip to Lincoln, including time with good friends and their adorable children; the delicious pasta I made for dinner tonight, using just what I happened to have lying around; last weekend's Monster Dash half marathon; and, still, David's parents' visit. But those will have to wait.

My rage is tired and wants to go to bed.

Failed

So I've set a new personal record for failing at NaBloPoMo: a single day! I really did try to get online and blog, but couldn't convince the wireless Internet to talk to me and was too tired to keep trying.

In any case, I'm spending my last few minutes in Lincoln at the Mill (pictured here, sort of, thanks to Little Lappy's webam) before heading back to Omaha to return my rental car and fly home.

It has been a great trip (though admittedly more because of the lovely weather, marvelous friends, and enjoyable city than because of stellar research accomplishments), and, as always, it's a bit sad to leave. More when I return!

700

This is my 700th post here. It's also my first of yet another NaBloPoMo!

Frighteningly early tomorrow morning, I'm flying to Nebraska for a whirlwind research trip (I get back late Wednesday night), so I'm heading to bed momentarily.

Since I'll be out of state tomorrow, I voted absentee for the first time. I had picked up my ballot more than a week ago, but failed to get it mailed back in time. This afternoon, then, I went to City Hall for the first time, located the election office, and dropped it off. I already felt pretty proud of myself for accomplishing my civic duty, but what really made it worth the trip was realizing that the inside of City Hall looks like this.

I'm not quite as fired up about this year's elections as I was about the last go-round, but I am pretty upset that the party that has stone-walled the entire agenda of a president who actually did have a mandate, and made (in retrospect misguided, but certainly earnest) attempts at compromise and bipartisanship may well be rewarded for their nefarious efforts. I thought this article, upon which I stumbled as a link in someone's shared item, summed up well my thoughts on the current state of affairs.

Anyway, whatever your opinion on the state of affairs, I encourage you, as always, to get out there and vote! Don't let the crazy 15% have all the say.