600

For real, guys. This is my real 600th post. Yay!

This morning I was sitting around in my pajamas, drinking coffee and thinking I didn't have anything scheduled for today other than the fellows' luncheon at noon, when I realized that as today was November 11, I had a presentation to give in the freshman seminar I sit in on, directly following the luncheon. A presentation that hadn't even crossed my mind since I'd written some notes and a tentative outline a week ago. A presentation that was supposed to be 30-45 minutes long!

I moaned a couple of oh noes,* dashed for the shower, and there calmed myself with the reassurances that it was really more of a facilitation of discussion than a lecture, that it was over material I knew well, and that I could just grab a couple of slides from PowerPoints I'd already presented.

Anyway, it ended up being fine, and I had a really interesting discussion with the freshmen about what it means to be a human and an individual, about science and our understanding of life, and even about some art. I'm still not sure how intelligible or coherent I was, but, yeah, the students had some great comments, and the two professors and my fellow sitting-in grad student told me it had gone well.

The moral of that story is that I really need to make sure I write everything on my Google calendar. That way, even if I forget about it, David will see it and remind me.

*I always remind myself of this weatherman when I do that (see 0:46', in particular--and don't see it at all if you're particularly profanity-averse!).

600

Today is my six hundredth post. It would have been more impressive if I'd waited five days to post this; then I would have 600 posts on the blog's fourth birthday. Or, wait, is that less impressive?

No matter.

Here are some photos from the camera phone:

Unnecessary quotation marks! (The second is my favorite; I drove one of those.)




More roadtrip pictures! (Handcrafted soda at Hot Lips in Portland; the park blocks by PSU; spiced oatmeal, banana walnut granola, coffee, and fresh ciabatta at Bread & Cup in Lincoln; and the patio at Victor's 1959 Cafe ["revolutionary Cuban cooking"] in Mpls)

Roadtrip I

So I'm in Walla Walla! David and I arrived Tuesday night, and I'm settling in nicely. Heather has even offered me a bike for the summer, and once I've picked that up I'll feel even more at home.

Friday night, David and I uploaded the 2400 pictures we'd taken on the trip, and although Paul and Ter saw all of them (we set Picasa's slideshow timer to one second per image, and even so it took close to an hour to get through all of them--and P&T deserve medals!), I'm trying to be more selective about what I post here.

To start off, here are the shots we took between Portland and Boise, beginning on Friday afternoon when we skipped out from the conference a bit early after I'd given my paper. Saturday we did the PSU farmers' market, hung out with friends at Mount Tabor and Joseph Wood Hill parks, and celebrated the news about my fellowship. Sunday we spent some time with David's cousins before heading up to Seattle, where we hung out and ate dinner with The Rockstar. Monday, after spending the night with April and Chris, we took the ferry to Seattle, where we met up with Dee, shopped a bit, and got to see The Rockstar again at his day job. Tuesday, after a run, breakfast, and coffee with April, David and I crossed the pass and made it to Hermiston in time to meet the family for dinner. Wednesday morning, after a wonderful but too-short visit there, we stopped in Walla Walla for an even shorter lunch visit (where I met The Peanut for the first time!), and then had dinner with Jan, Dennis, and Maddy before stopping for the night in Boise with David's cousin.

Here are the pictures (click here for larger versions and to leave comments):


More to come (eventually)!

Travel Adventures

Last weekend, as you may already know, I was in New Orleans for the annual national conference of the Pop Culture Association/ American Culture Association, giving a paper. The trip was ridiculously, ridiculously expensive (conference registration was $125, after the $55 association membership fee, in addition to airfare, hotel, and food) and rather stressful, as these things are, but was still a good time.

I could spend hours telling stories (as a few of you can confirm), but in the interest of this post, I'll stick to bullets (call me if you want longer versions!).

The Good:

• I didn't miss my flight Thursday morning, even though, despite my otherwise judicious planning, I discovered, upon reaching the front of a long security line, that I was in the WRONG TERMINAL (this happens).* I ended up putting my marathon training to good use by sprinting (with rolling suitcase) back through the Lindbergh terminal, onto a shuttle, back onto the light rail, through the parking garage to the Humphrey terminal, through security, and to my gate, arriving almost exactly 10 minutes before the flight was to leave.
• On non-holiday weekdays, the city bus runs straight from the airport into downtown, for just $1.60
  
• Warm weather in New Orleans
• Comfortable rooms
• Lunching like a lady of luxury at a cafe near the hotel just after arriving Thursday; despite a rather blustery breeze, I enjoyed sitting outside people watching and lingering clear through white chocolate bread pudding and coffee.
  
• Hanging out with Leah and Brett (definitely the highlight): beignets at Cafe du Monde, strolling the French Quarter, Louis Armstrong Park, St. Louis Cemetery, French Market, delicious African food...
• Taking a bump that not only earned me (hopefully... still waiting) a roundtrip fare voucher, but actually got me home earlier than my original flight
  
• Feeling like I gave a bang-up presentation at my panel on Friday

The Bad:

• I was the only person (of three!) on my panel to show up on Friday; the audience was also quite small
• My antiperspirant wasn't up to the New Orleans challenge: Wunderground tells me that although it only hit 81°, the humidity hit 90%!
• Because food was so expensive, I felt underfed for most of the trip, with the notable exception of Friday afternoon and evening, when beignets and coffee sustained me through miles of walking until I stuffed myself with vegetables and couscous at dinner.
• The city can feel a little sketchy, especially when one is by oneself and pulling a rolling suitcase (although I'd heard the phrase "murder capital" bandied about, I'm glad I didn't look up crime statistics before going...)
• Our touring took place on Good Friday, which meant that several attractions, including Preservation Hall, were closed
• The airport bus does not pick up downtown/in the French Quarter on holidays or weekends, stopping two and a half miles away
  

The Ugly:

• The New Orleans Regional Transit Authority website is the worst transit website I have ever seen, let alone tried to use. Look at the "routes and schedules" link, just for fun. Even if you're intimately familiar with the city geography, and don't need to get to, say, the airport (it's in another parish!), it still strikes me as basically unusable.** After great frustration, I finally gave up and took a cab the two and half miles to the airport express bus stop Saturday morning.

I went ahead and uploaded all of the nearly 100 photos I took during the trip, and am actually kicking myself, anomalously, for not taking more, as I'm not sure the ones I got capture the glory of the city, and particularly the French Quarter. Click below to start the slideshow, or here to view larger images, read captions, and make comments.


*In my case, it happened because I had checked in from school the afternoon before and printed my boarding passes there; had I attempted to check in at the terminal, or to check bags, I would have realized my error before spending 40 minutes in the wrong line.
**I do realize I'm spoiled by the inimitable Metro Transit website, and am further convinced of the superiority of the Twin Cities' public transit.

Overwriting

Today a friend and I went to Maria's Cafe for brunch, where I had a delicious chocolate chip/strawberry pancake and too much coffee. The waiter, who had said, when I initially ordered two pancakes, "You know they're as big as the plate, right?" also pointed out, when he delivered the one I did order, that it had originally had a smiley face, and showed me where the chocolatey eyes had been.

Maria's is on Franklin just a block or so up from where I wiped out on Friday. The roads are thankfully much clearer, and I got there and back without incident. My left hip has developed quite an impressive lump, and is currently mottled shades of blue and purple, but what's even weirder is that my left shoulder--the back of my deltoid, I think--has knotted all up; I seem to have pulled something as I went down. Still: I've had an amazing winter biking run, all told, and intend to continue, albeit with renewed caution.

I hadn't been down Franklin in a couple of days, and to Maria's for a couple of years. But the inimitable Miss Mandy has got me thinking about the idea of overwriting old/unpleasant/outdated memories, and I think the idea has promise.

And here are a few pictures from the weekend (alas, none of my pancake)--black beans and rice, sun on snow, and window ice:

Valentine

I think it's still fair to say that I celebrated IQD this year, although it did admittedly bear more similarities to Valentine's Day than past ones have. Then again, it was also way more fun!

David flew in pre-dawncrack, at 5:48 a.m. My neighbor had loaned me her car, so I was able to pick him up, and then drive around for a while searching (beanlessly) for coffee until it was light enough to see at Minnehaha Falls Park. The falls weren't frozen solid, thanks to last week's thaw--although it was 10° when we were there--but were still impressive in their iciness.

We stopped by my favorite Dunn Bros for the coffee we hadn't found earlier, took a quick tour of Uptown, and wandered down to the frozen expanse of Lake Calhoun. There's enough Northwesterner left in me, especially with a fellow web-footer, to be deeply impressed by that much ice!

Speaking of ice, we later went skating at Lake of the Isles, which not only has a cozy temporary warming shelter, but offers FREE ice skates for the borrowing! I was dreadful, of course (incurring the looks only persons two and half feet tall--and, naturally, extremely proficient on their own blades--can bestow upon such a hopeless elder), but did make it three loops without falling before deciding I'd had enough.

In the evening, we went to the ever-delightful Cafe Brenda, and then to The Two Gentlemen of Verona at the Guthrie. The latter was staged as a 1950s live television quasi-musical extravaganza, which made for some very creative characters and a lot of fun. It was too cold to explore the mill ruins; David was very brave and never actually complained about the cold, but although 20 (which it did eventually hit before dropping again) feels balmy under certain circumstances, it's still freakishly bitter for most normal people, and he suggested we enjoy more of the Cities' outdoor activities when it's a bit warmer. He had to fly back this afternoon, concluding the whirlwind arctic holiday adventure.

Remember, although only the hardiest visit during the winter, Chez CëRïSë and the Disaster Kitchen always welcome visitors! Make YOUR reservations today!

Photos courtesy of David

Regulars

This morning I graded papers by the fire at Dunn Bros. They've installed new seating along the window that faces Lake Street, and both of the baristas were new, but I still saw a few of the regulars I've been seeing for the past two and a half years I've been frequenting this coffee shop.

There's the twitchy bald guy with the beanie, who looks kind of like my landlord and smokes just outside the window so he can watch his stuff. There's the older man in the earflap hat, with the crinkly white hair and beard, who brings in small bags and a dog eared journal, but spends hours slowly tearing up the newspaper. And there's the couple who wears almost entirely black and looks so much alike that when I first saw them I wasn't sure if they were partners or siblings. The second year, she got pregnant, and today, their baby was smiling at me and talking. Well, sort of talking.

I think some of the regulars must recognize me, too, although I only know a few names. For all the looking I do from behind my own face, it only occasionally occurs to me that the mirror goes both ways. I tried to imagine today how the others might categorize me. "The student," since I'm generally surrounded by piles of papers and/or books? "The biker," since I often set my helmet (and gloves/balaclava, etc. on days like today) beside me as I work? "The cheapskate," since I sometimes bring in my own baked goods or fruit? (Today a fellow biker sitting beside me busted out a Tupperware of Cheerios and milk!) Or what if I'm "The unhappy one," since if I'm often under pressure to accomplish--frequently unpleasant--tasks while I'm there, like grading?

I do not know. It's so hard to judge these things. At times I've decided I must be the "Cute-ish, probably desperate girl," since boys have taken it upon themselves to flirt with me. I decided the reason was that if I was at a table by myself with my computer and my books on the weekend, I must be single. In fact, I wasn't, though since I have been again, I've been hit on less (though I'm also spending far fewer weekends there).

A Prairie Home Companion

I was up early this morning to take a friend to the airport so that she could catch her flight to Peru. Actually, she drove there, but I drove her car back to my place. This time of year, you never know when they're going to close a side of the street to sweep up leaves or plow snow, so she asked if she could leave her car with me. It was the first time I'd driven since September, and it was admittedly a little scary... but also pretty awesome. She had suggested that I use the car for things like groceries and laundry, so I swung by Whole Foods on the way home, and it felt distinctly luxurious not to have to haul everything home on my own back.

I didn't, however, drive into St. Paul, which is where I spent most of the afternoon. On MPR this morning they had announced that A Prairie Home Companion was at home this week, and that the featured guest was Emmylou Harris. They also said that $15 rush tickets would be available at the box office at 4:00 p.m., 45 minutes before the show. The show's website said that these tickets always sell out, and that people generally start lining up between noon and two. I called pretty much everyone I knew in town, and everyone was busy, so I decided to go by myself. I also decided to bus.

Getting there did take a while (a little less than an hour), but it was also pretty ridiculously easy. I walked about three blocks total, most of them between my house and the first bus stop, and had one transfer in downtown Mpls. It was definitely chilly, but the sun was shining and everything looked sparkly and beautiful.

When I got to the Fitzgerald box office, there was no line and a sign on the door said that place-holder numbers for the rush line were available inside. I'd read that they did this in cases of "bad weather, rain, snow, [or] extreme cold," but I didn't realize that a mere 28° counted! In any case, I got my number (29), and spent the next several hours by the fire at Dunn Bros, outlining and writing an abstract for a paper and reading.* I went back, as directed, at around 4:00, and a crowd had gathered. Apparently they had given out upwards of 100 numbers, although their most optimistic guess was that only up to about 65 had any chance of getting tickets (two tickets could be purchased per place-holder number). Eventually, they ended up calling out numbers and allowing us into the box office to purchase our tickets, but before that we learned about the available seats (the first ones released were in the front row and on the stage, or other seats with partially obstructed views, and the latter ones were just standing-room space) and had to arrange ourselves roughly in order of our numbers. That reminded me of numerous "ice-breaker"/group bonding exercises, but everyone was excited and a little giddy from the cold (I've written about this) and, of course, united by a love of nerdy public radio, so it was actually kind of fun chatting.

So. I'd been nervous, but I did get in, although it was for standing room only. We'd been offered the option of "stepping aside" instead of buying standing tickets, as other seats (guests' reserves and others) were to potentially become available later. However, buying a standing ticket was the only way to guarantee seeing the show, so I did that.

And it was great. I'd called Ellen before leaving to confirm that it was in fact worth it to bus clear into St. Paul, potentially stand in line for hours with the possibility of not getting in, and bus clear back, in order to hear Emmylou Harris, even if I had to do it myself. She confirmed that it absolutely was, and she was right.

Emmylou and her band only played about four songs, but they were fabulous, and I enjoyed the rest of the show, too--though I did get a bit stiff from standing. (I was in the first floor balcony, in the right wing, by a column and behind a railing, so I did have something to lean on. There were two of the railing spots, and as a single, I ended up sharing the space with a guy who was an uncomfortably close talker but who I could mostly ignore after the show started.) For half the price of the cheapest tickets, it was also a great deal.

Unfortunately, I didn't figure out how to submit a message for that greeting segment they do. Mine was going to run along the lines of, "Cërï thanks Ellen, cyborg extraordinaire, who convinced her it was worth it to stand in line." Or hopefully something more clever and amusing... though it's clearly a moot point now. You can ask Ellen about the cyborg bit.

So. Emmylou Harris is a glowing goddess, and I totally have a girl crush on her. But get this. Two-thirds of her band were at a table next to me in Dunn Bros, and I didn't even know! I'd noticed the very skinny guy in the designer jeans, with the shaved head, silver hoop earrings, and black cowboy hat, who walked by outside several times, and then came in and out a time or two. I noticed when another guy, wearing a pin-striped blazer over a printed shirt and a fedora with a feather in the band, came in and sat at his table and that they talked. I realized that the first one was older than he looked, and couldn't figure out whether they were a couple or what. (I was also trying to engage in the aforementioned productive activities, so this was just general distraction, not a concentrated effort.) When the took the stage, though, and I recognized first the feathered hat, and then the two guys--the first one the bassist, and the second the accordionist--I couldn't believe how close I'd been to Emmylou without even knowing. Wow.

*I'm only about 20 pages in, but so far I am loving this book!

Bowling

Bryant Lake Bowl is at the corner of Lake Street and Bryant Avenue, and is across the corner from what I still consider "my" coffee shop, despite the fact that I've only been there a handful of times this semester. Despite the many, many hours I've spent there, however, looking out the window at the hipsters across the street at Bryant Lake Bowl, I'd only been to the latter once before tonight, and that was for dinner and a play, not for bowling. (This is the beauty of the city I live in: mere blocks from me is a bowling alley attached not just to a restaurant that serves primarily local, organic food--but to a theater!)

Tonight, however, we bowled. A friend had passed her oral exams, so a bunch of us joined her to celebrate. Despite the fact that bowling involves sticking feet and fingers alike into potentially wildly unclean locations (at BLB, you grab your own shoes from cubbies on the wall, and return them yourself; a manager told me that they have "someone who cleans them all at the end of every night." Ewwww), and that I have never been good at it, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Everyone was very celebratory and encouraging, and it was just a fun change of pace.

Also, I met a boy who introduced himself by saying, "I'm Tony. You're beautiful!" Even though I'm quite sure he was more interested in the boys there than in any of the girls, it still made me feel special.

I haven't heard anything from The Date--nothing! As relieved as I am that it doesn't appear that we'll have to have any awkward conversations about our incompatibility, I'm admittedly curious; was it(/I) really that obvious? I didn't think so at the time, but now I wonder. I suppose if I--even shy, neurotic I--had had any interest, I would probably have lingered in the car for at least a minute or two. I certainly didn't think I was cruelly or even overtly dismissive, but, again, now I'm wondering. I didn't intend to be, so I hope he wasn't hurt; maybe it just took him slightly longer to realize, as I did, that there just wasn't anything there.

My mom predicts dating in my future, which makes me laugh since there's been so little in my past. Now that I'm single again, though, I think I'll at least try to accept dates when they're offered, even if I don't go in search of them. If nothing else, they make for interesting stories in the office and on the blog.

Race Day Eve

I make a mean blueberry pancake!

It's one of a few things I can do well, yet I'm always exaggeratedly surprised when they turn out deliciously perfect. (That I burned the first one a little bit, while reading blogs, did not surprise me; that the rest turned out beautifully did!)

I had blueberry pancakes for dinner because tomorrow is the marathon. And it might be the pancakes... or the caffeine (I had coffee at the Expo this afternoon, because it was free, though it may have been a mistake)... or the sunshine earlier... or just the anticipation of a general change in my fortunes... but I am ridiculously excited about tomorrow's run. I actually feel giddy!

I'm hoping the feeling sticks around, because I'm up against kind of long odds this year. I haven't been able to train as fully as I'd have liked, because of the recurrence of my stress fracture injury. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but I haven't been feelin' particularly lucky lately. (My mom and I were talking about how maybe I should get a cat this winter, to keep me company and help should the mice return. "With your luck," she said, "it wouldn't be a good mouser!" "With my luck," I responded, "it would die a protracted and expensive death as soon as I got it.")

In the potentially-unlucky category this year is the weather:

Last year, it was hot and a bit miserable. This year, it looks like we may have cold and miserable: there's nothing quite like a long run in the rain! I'm told that the TCM almost always has lovely weather, but it looks like I'm going to have to try for a third, next year, if I'm to actually experience it.

However, perhaps tomorrow's marathon will mark a turning point. The friend I'm running with has informed me of her decision to sling me, a la Forrest Gump, over her shoulders and run with me should I falter; I'm hoping that won't be necessary, and that I'll be able to keep up and to finish. As it's her first-ever marathon, and as I was the instigator (though she was keen to be persuaded!) in this situation, I'm hoping for the best for both of us.

If for some reason you wish to track my progress tomorrow, this link should get you there, although it'll be 6 a.m. for those of you on the west coast when we start, and--with any luck--just 10 or 11 by the time we're finishing. Woo! 'Here's hoping!

Hathor

So last week Heather came to visit me! As it happened, I beat her to Mpls by only a few hours, due to my automotive adventures. Due to said adventures, we were also collectively car-less during her visit, following returning the rental to the airport Thursday morning. Heather, however, is nothing if not hardcore (and uncomplaining!), and we managed to navigate the city, from the Mall of America to downtown, via the wonders of public transportation. Actually, it meant a lot to me to have a willing compatriot as I entered the completely car-less lifestyle.

As usual, I was anxious to show off the city's good eating, so we went to the French Meadow for bruschetta, vegetarian chili, and spinach salad with warm, pepper-encrusted goat cheese and a blueberry vinaigrette; True Thai for egg rolls, red curry with kobocha squash, and Tom Yum soup; Cafe Brenda for hummus and red pepper/walnut/pomegrante dip with crudites and pita, vegetable croquettes, one of the chef's specials--a grilled zucchini-eggplant-heirloom tomato-lentil patty "stack" with sheep's cheese and guacamole--and baked vanilla custard; the Midtown Exchange for Manny's Tortas (because Las Lomas was out of tamales--though Heather got some the next day); Sebastian and Joe's for ice cream; the Old Spaghetti Factory for pasta; and the Bad Waitress and multiple Dunn Bros for coffee (and ice cremas!).

We did Uptown, downtown, and, yes, the MOA. Oh, and Rainbow, where Heather bought 50 pounds of peanut butter! Friday, we attended the Rally for the Economy, which occurred at the same time that McCain and Palin were addressing supporters in Anoka. Sunday, a friend and I biked in the Urban Assault Ride (pictures and post forthcoming), and that evening Heather and I attended "A View From the Bridge" at the Guthrie, for which a former student we'd bumped into on Friday, a Guthrie employee, had generously given us tickets! Monday, before she had to fly out, Heather even agreed to a spin down the Greenway and around Lake of the Isles on a borrowed bike.

We also managed to fit in a few meals at home, a survey class period and a tour of my department, a party at the chair's house (I'd told Heather earlier that she'd be the perfect excuse for me not to go, but she was game and we had a decent time!) and lots and lots of chatting.

I've been back to Walla Walla several times since moving to the midwest, and have taken advantage of the Swinjarnyars' hospitality there on multiple occasions, but it was really a privilege to have Heather come visit me here and see my home, school, and city. I introduced her to people here as one of my best friends, one I'd known since our freshman year of high school. That, ladies and gentlemen, is dedication, and I feel very fortunate indeed.

Pictures from the weekend; click here for larger versions and to comment:



(Remember, you, too, can join those who have experienced the wonders of the Chez Cerise Minneapolis Tour! I love visitors...)

Day eighteen

Breakfast: Puffins with soy milk; gluten-free toast with sugar-free blueberry jam
Brunch: Oatmeal with raisins and soy milk
Starbucks: Decaf, sugar-free, iced vanilla soy latte
Dinner: Butternut squash risotto; salad; popsicle

Today I met the inimitable Erin and Mandy at Cabazon. We spent quite a while at Starbucks just chatting; I mostly grilled Erin about genetics (about which I'm [not quite inexplicably--though it might take a while] reading for my upcoming exams), and she clearly and thoughtfully explained all about DNA and genes and transcription. She knew the material and mechanisms so well, as I explained it to my dad later, that it was like having someone studying calculus explain addition. How great is that?

None of us is much of a shopper, but somehow we did the entire circuit of outlets, and all ended up with a bunch of great stuff. They put in a Banana Republic outlet just last month, and everything there was 40% off. I got a pair of jeans, a pair of slacks, two tops, and a jacket, for $153. Elsewhere, I found a pair of brown flats, argyle socks, a teal button-down sweater, and a sun dress (J. Crew! $24!). I don't remember the last time I bought so many clothes. It was nice to be able to stock up, though, and at such good prices. It's probably too much to hope for not to teach sections next semester, but at least if I do now, I'll have something to wear.

Afterward, we sat around and talked some more. I babbled about my "research," which (thanks to the friends who ask me about it and nod encouragingly when I try to make sense out of the different things I've been studying and want to explore) is starting to take a bit more shape in my mind. Mandy spoke much more elegantly and coherently about therapy and life.

I came home exhausted but glowing. "I like those girls so much!" I exclaimed to my mom. "Ahhh, blog friends," she responded. It's kind of funny to me that they are "blog friends," and that if we didn't have our blogs, we wouldn't know each other. It's more than that, though. Through this whole weird blogosphere-deal, I've met two thoughtful, intelligent women, who can discuss the implications and ethics of eugenics, and then help me pick out which color of top looks best.

I have my doubts about Internet dating (although I know I shouldn't knock it till I've tried it, et cetera), but Internet quality-friend-finding? Yes please.

Hawa(II)

I'm finally feeling guiltier about not blogging than about not reading for my exams, so here are the camera phone pictures from Hawaii:

The full album is here (you can leave comments on pictures!), and a few pictures from the real camera will follow; unfortunately, I left that cord in Honolulu, and don't have it yet. I also thought I had packed batteries, but didn't find them, so I used only the camera phone for the last few days we were there.

It was really a magnificent trip, and I could feel all sorts of toxins draining out of me (though it wouldn't really have been a vacation if I hadn't replaced some of them with a different sort, would it have?). As you can see from the pictures, we did a lot of lying on the beach and a lot of eating.

I tried to be a good sun-citizen, wearing my sunglasses and big hat and taking down an entire 16 ounce bottle of SPF 45 nearly single-handedly, but still managed to catch some tan (and burned a little bit snorkeling the first Saturday, though I wore a shirt and shorts out the next week). I like looking a little sun-kissed, but I have to keep reminding myself that it's just damage, and that I have too much of that as it is. Sigh.

In addition to beach-lying and eating, we did some other vacation-y stuff. We snorkeled twice at Hanauma Bay, where we saw lots of fish, including the state fish of Hawaii (the humuhumunukunukuapua'a, which April likes to call either a "statie" or "the humma humma fish"), a huge rainbow fish I could hear gnawing on the reef, and an eel. April took some underwater pictures, but I haven't seen those yet. We hiked Diamond Head, which had some fantastic views (pictures to come), but was frustratingly glutted with people. April and I had facials and massages at a tiny spa close to the apartment, where Fuki, a large Japanese man, was so focused on his work that he breathed heavily through his mouth pretty much the whole time, including when he was on top of the table ("Excuse me, excuse me") and pulled me into some of the best stretches I've ever had (one of which he enacted by slinging a towel under my jaw and rotating my head from side to side). When he first started working, he asked if I had been in an accident. I mentioned last summer's crash, but said it was probably mostly just tension. When he found out I was a PhD student, he said, "Lucky for you that I am good therapist!" Was he ever.

We did the Pearl Harbor monument and the Dole Plantation in the same day. If you go to Oahu, I think you're pretty much culturally obligated to do the former (I was there with my senior class 10 years ago, and that would have held me for life, probably), but Dole is pretty much straight-up commercial tourism. We paid to tour the garden and take the little train ride around the plantation, and then had pineapple softserve (for Chris and me) and a pineapple float (for April).

On Monday, April and I took the bus to Pearl Harbor, where we met Chris to drive farther north to the Polynesian Cultural Center. It was the first time for all of us; it had been an optional activity on my class trip, but being poor and more interested in beaching, I had visited Waimanalo with friends instead. This time we got the package that included entry to the villages, an IMAX film, a luau, and the evening show. Even with Chris's substantial military-connection-discount, it was pretty expensive, and if I were to do it again, as a childless vegetarian, I would probably opt just for the evening show. It was fun seeing the demos and playing the games in the villages, and I liked the orchid leis at the luau, but the food (at least the veggie options available) wasn't very good, and I got plenty of singing and dancing at the evening show. Still, the admission goes to help support education, so I can't complain.

The next day, April and I took the bus to Kailua beach, which was quieter and cleaner than Waikiki and had better waves. The bus doesn't go quite there, and although the guidebook mentions a shuttle, I never actually saw one. We had to wander through a few residential streets to get to the park, which led to one of my favorite moments of the trip; after asking directions of a couple of guys working on a house and chatting with them momentarily, one called after us, as we turned to leave, "You guys are beautiful!" His Montreal accent, and the somewhat baffled inflection on his last word, left me giggling all day.

So, Wednesday we flew out and now I'm in the desert. My Thursday travel ended up being rather a nightmare, despite the cavalier tone of my last post; I got an e-mail a bit before I was to catch my bus that my flight to LA had been delayed, meaning I would miss my connection to Palm Springs. I called United, and they assured me that they had put me on a flight to San Francisco, that would make it to LA in time for me to make my connection to Palm Springs. However, the SFO flight was to leave 70 minutes before my LAX flight, so I grabbed my things, literally ran to the bus station, and just caught the bus. At the counter, they were very nice to me, apologized for the long trip I was about to have ('turns out, of course, it ended up being much longer than it looked at that point...), and escorted me to the front of the security line. When I arrived, panting, at my gate, I discovered that the SFO flight had been delayed 20 minutes... and, long story short, as you may have guessed, I ended up missing my connection to LAX and had to be put on a later flight. I'll spare you the weeping and gnashing of teeth, but will just say that although they did finally get me to LAX, the soonest they could book me to PSP was the next evening (sans vouchers/options for car, hotel, food, or even apologies); that my parents drove the entire way to LAX to rescue me; that my luggage didn't arrive until the next afternoon; and that I WILL NEVER FLY UNITED AIRLINES AGAIN IF I CAN HELP IT.

Anyway, now I'm in the desert. Yesterday there was a coyote in the backyard. This is the picture I got of him after I went back inside to retrieve my camera phone; he's on the other side of the fence here. I put a circle around him in case you can't see him--he's so well camouflaged that I had to study the picture at full size to find him, even though I'd taken it!

Update

Or, another week in pictures.

Friday: While working at the coffee shop, saw this guy cutting the sidewalk and later saw Critical Mass, accompanied by lots of cops on bikes and a few in cruisers--in solidarity, I think. (See the guys hanging out the upstairs window?)


Sunday: Went to the science library for the first time; wrested The Cyborg Handbook from its bowels and felt triumphant. (The pictures are from the far-less-frightening ground level.)


Monday: Checked out another book for my paper, apparently acquired (and last checked out?) in 1971; had a Winter Storm.








Wednesday: Threw a surprise birthday party for a friend at Pancho Villa after seminar; big turnout and fun times.


And finally, speaking of good times, Erin from Back in the Mitten sent me stuff she made! She sent me two pairs of earrings and a bookmark. Behold the awesomeness. Relatedly, you would not believe how hard it is to take pictures of your own ears.





Not relatedly, this morning I ran six miles and was done by 9:00 a.m. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that may have been my most productive hour of the entire day... and it means I've been having to feed myself nearly constantly. Sigh.