NYE Outfit: Vintage Finery!

Several months ago, my cool aunt (who is also making my wedding cakes!) scored a sweet find at an estate sale: a vintage dress, in almost perfect shape, for like $2.  (FYI: it's always nice to have someone who knows my tastes looking out for me!).  When I went to visit in November, she brought the dress out of the closet.  I eyed it cautiously for a few minutes because it looked too small for me around the middle.  The dress, however, was a lovely shade of pink and looked exactly like something I should own.

In spite of my worries, I tried it on, and even though it was very fitted, I could tell it fit properly.  This was, after all, a dress from the era of more fitted dresses and more confining undergarments.  I made a few small adjustments to the dress (removed some fading velvet bows and fixed a torn sleeve).  I thought about wearing it to Christmas (but opted instead for my red silk Christmas skirt), but ultimately decided that New Year's Eve would be the perfect venue for this lovely dress.

I was also given some lovely vintage jewelry from Lance's grandma (some that I will wear at the wedding!), so I wore that as well.  While thrifting the afternoon of NYE, I found a great pair of shoes (for cheap!) that I wore.  The best find of all during the thrifting excursion, however, was a lace clutch with matching gloves:

So pretty, and yet so cheap!  If only they were white, I could wear them with my wedding dress.  I will find other reasons to wear them, never fear.

I felt a bit costumed, but you know what?  I felt awesome.  There is definitely something to be said about wearing clothes that fit well and make you feel good in them.

Vintage-tastic!

Project Wedding Dress

Oh, hi there.  Remember me?  Yeah, I tried to blog a bit more then fell off the face of the earth.  However, I am back because I want to tell you all about the pretty wedding dress I'm making. The pictures will be a bit deceiving because I won't share the finished product until after February 5th, but you can see some of the process up until then.

So: this summer, after Lance proposed and I accepted, and after I tried on a few dresses and decided that most things related to commercial weddings made me twitch and itch a little (I think I'm allergic), I decided to make my own dress.  This Vogue pattern (originally from 1954!) caught my eye and stuck with me.

So very vintage! With a scooped neck, a full skirt, and a low back!  These features drew me toward it.  I bought the pattern, then began the practice dress (to make sure the final version would fit before I attempted it).  Finals occurred, followed by the holidays (and another wedding to attend), so I finally got around to working on after Christmas.  And...it turned out so well:

Well, it would look better if you could see me in it, but you can get the general idea.

So, now that the practice dress is (mostly) done (sans buttons and hemming), I decided to make several modifications to the pattern.  There are buttons on the front, but I am moving those to the back.  I'm also adding lace.  I'm also making the whole dress out of a second-hand dress given to me, so I'm incorporating fun beading into the skirt (that I don't have to do!).  Here's the dress I chopped up for parts:

And a close-up of the skirt/beading:

Gotta love recycling!

I'll go into more detail about the modifications I made (and how I did it), but I'm feeling reasonably confident in my sewing skills as of late.  Luckily, I do have an awesome seamstress to help me hem it because that's my sewing weakness: my hems always look like a home-ec project whereas the rest of the dress usually looks really great.  Guess I'll be working on that skill next!

Next wedding project (after the dress is completed): wedding vests for the boys.

Vegetarian Cure-All Soup

Lance is the one who first introduced me to homemade miso soup.  Since we always have a tub of miso paste in the fridge (and he's actually currently brewing a batch of miso), we eat miso soup fairly regularly.  When he is not feeling well, he makes a pot of miso to feel better, and I began doing the same.  Miso soup has become my chicken noodle soup--and I think it beats it as a curative, hands down.

I started feeling like I was coming down with a cold a couple of days ago, so Thursday night I made a big pot of miso soup with chard and tofu.  With a little added sriracha and a hunk of homemade bread, this soothing brew has helped me fight off the cold.  The hot broth helps soothe my throat and the sriracha spiciness keeps my sinus passages clear.  I thought I'd share the recipe with you all in case you too are succumbing to late fall/end of semester illnesses.

Spicy Miso Soup with Tofu and Greens

Makes 4 servings

In a saucepan, saute some onion--I used the white bulb from some green onions--in a little olive oil.  Add a couple of handfuls of thinly sliced chard (about two big leaves + stems) or other green.  Cook until the greens begin to wilt, then add 4 cups of water.  Bring to a boil and add 3-4 tbsp miso paste (to taste) and 1/2 block of chopped tofu.  Season with pepper and nutritional yeast to taste.  (I find the miso salty enough, so I don't add any salt, but if you want more salt, some soy sauce would be good).  Add sriracha (aka "rooster sauce") to taste.  Top with green onion and eat with a chunk of good bread for a healthy and soothing meal.

Cranky Redux

1.  "Is Emily Dickinson a lesbian?" was the first question out of his mouth.  To kick off the discussion of one of my favorite poets, we begin with this question?  No. Way.  Dr. M. and A (a grad student) moved it to a discussion about gender ambiguity in her poetry and the role of gender (all worthy topics), but I just slapped my forehead in pain, anguish, and exasperation.  Why are we so willing to read her poetry through biography?  I was in fact so cranky that I wrote my reading journal with a twinge of an attitude (toward the view, not my prof).  I wanted to talk about the visual appeal of the poetry (capitalization and dashes, i.e.) and some other things. Cue: pain and frustration.

2.  There was going to be Rhet/Comp seminar next semester.  Yay, a class in my discipline! Perfect!  But, alas, due to the fracas that took place in October, the class was canceled.  Cue: woe and despair.

3  I seem to be developing a cold, one week before a draft and a research presentation are due. Cue: further woe and further despair.

4.  We counted all the people we should invite, could invite, have to invite.  Then we added up out of the almost absolutely bare minimum we have to invite that will come and it added up to more than our space will hold.  Lance is measuring to see if we can make it work.  Cue: let Lance deal with it for right now...I gotta finish out the semester!

5.  Today, something was said (not to me directly or about me directly) that pushed my anger button.  I don't really want to go into detail in an online space, but it's nothing too juicy and scandalous, and I might tell you if you ask me personally.  Needless to say, it made me cranky. (Cue: crankiness)

6.  I like the Romantics as much as anyone: but to the person in my class who insists that art is created from the outpouring of an effluent spring, the divine speaking through the poet, the lightning strike of inspiration, the drugged dream haze: this is not how it works.  Even the Romantics knew that.  Writing might begin (or contain) little flashes and moments of inspiration, but to make something good, the artist has to think, to have a purpose in creating, and execute with skill.  Otherwise any idiot high on pot could write like Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, or [INSERT AUTHOR HERE].

7.  The same person also said that great art is never written with an intentional political/social purpose.  Puh-lease!  (Note: this person is not an artist: she once wrote one poem in one outpouring of emotion, so she bases this on that one experience.)

The non-cranky:
I'm obviously engaged and opinionated in my studies, so I guess that's a good thing?

Teaching

I found out the other day that I get to teach a class next semester, which excites me greatly.

Today, I taught many, many students (one-on-one) about writing.  It made my brain very, very tired.

But...that sense of a job well done...that makes up for the tiredness.  I don't know if they really learn that much from a half-hour or hour session, but they seem grateful when they leave, and I like it when they come back and I can see how their writing changes (and improves, sometimes).

I'm grateful for the chance to work with students in the writing center, and I'm grateful for the chance to teach next semester.

And, now, time for bed.

PS: I've started reading Pegasus in my scraps of stolen free-time, and it's awesome.

In Which Jenn Querulously Writes

I don't know if it's just that time of the semester (where we all need a break) or what, but I'm finding myself becoming crankier.  More cantankerous.  Querulous, even.  So today I shall discuss particular points of complaint.

One: students on campus.  Okay, so I know I work at a university and am a student, so I really shouldn't complain about this.  However, I'm looking specifically at how students move around on campus.  Since I'm on a bike, I'm hyper-aware of my setting (because I want to stay alive to bike another day), but I've noticed that most students don't pay attention to their surroundings.  I've almost run students down because they are too busy texting or looking at their feet to remember that they are surrounded by potential obstacles.  (FYI: they don't even hear my bike bell.) They also can't walk in a straight line, which makes biking around them surprisingly difficult.

But here is my main complaint: I usually ride on the sidewalk for a short bit, then switch to the roads that run through campus.  However, students don't even look before they cross those roads! And I'm not talking about using cross-walks--they just walk.  Wherever.  Everywhere.  And yes, cars do drive on these roads.  Today, I almost ran down three students who just randomly crossed in front of me without even looking up.  Normally, I would just roll my eyes, but today I scolded them loudly.

These kids seem so lost in their own little words (which I'm sure are infinitely fascinating) that they can't even observe the world around them.  This leads me to my next point: individualism is not all it's chalked up to be.  Bear with me a minute as I make the connection:  we as a nation are obsessed with the individual.  Thinking that one is a unique butterfly in a world of unique butterflies leads, in my thinking, to this inability to remember that one exists in spaces with other people.  Be considerate. Look around.  And watch out for angry girls on bikes.

In Feminist Theory, we keep hitting on this idea of the individual, which frustrates me because, yes, while, we are all individuals with individual experiences, we also exist within a social order, a society, a culture(s), structures, and institutions.  We are who we are because of our place in the world, not because of some unique individualism that is inherent to human nature.  We love, share, and communicate because we can understand other people: we have shared experiences, thoughts, ideologies, and perspectives.  Emphasizing individualism is detrimental to society because we all think we're entitled to step on other people to get to where we want to go instead of trying to work together to make the world a better place.  You are not a unique snowflake.  Deal with it, and remember that there are other people in the world besides you.

Decision Day

Yep, it's that time of the year again.  I'm going to go vote later (because I'm cool like that), but I thought I'd reflect a little on politics.

In my Feminist Theory class, we've been talking about how a proclamation that one does not have politics is another way of saying that one's political views belong to someone else.  Or, if you aren't interested in politics, then politics is interested in you.  I'm reasonably interested in politics, but both Lance and I have spent the last few months frustrated: frustrated because it seems that people refuse to listen to reason,that people refuse to consider the other side of an issue, that people are too busy worrying about phantoms to realize that big issues are at stake.

I was excited in 2008 because it seemed like there really was potential for change.  It was exciting.  And changes have been made, albeit in a more watered down form.  This year, I've had a hard time getting excited about any of the candidates.  I know who I'm going to vote for (and have good reasons), but it's mostly because I don't like the opposition.

Well, anyway.  I don't have too much to say after all, but I hope you all will go out and vote today.

That Grad School Thing

As everyone expected, I disappeared into a pile of books, notes, and papers as the semester progressed  I have reemerged, albeit likely temporarily.

What have I been up to?  A list, for your ease of understanding:

• Attended and presented at my first academic conference as a PhD student
• Began Project Wedding Dress (posts to come, I hope, and pictures)
• Ordered the most beautiful wedding shoes
• Drank copious amounts of coffee
• Gave up drinking copious amounts of coffee
• Ran a 5k, placed third in my age group, and earned a new PR (26:03!)
• Read pages and pages and pages
• Saw two authors of cool books, all within one week
• Checked out mountains of books from the library for my research papers
• Subbed for a friend's Comp I classes, which was pretty fun
• Dressed up like a robot for Halloween
• Realized that we have three months until the wedding
• Started a paper on feminists and vampires
• Bought a plane ticket to Boston for Thanksgiving
• Tutored lots of students in writing, which was FUN

Anyway, you get the idea.  It has been fun and glorious and I wouldn't give it up for anything.  I'm about to have to abandon my social life for the next month or so to get everything done, but I'll emerge on the other side successfully!

On the Sublime

Are we not, then, to hold that composition (being a harmony of that language which is implanted by nature in man and which appeals not to the hearing only but to the soul itself), since it calls forth manifold shapes of words, thoughts, deeds, beauty, melody, all of them born at our birth and growing with our growth, and since by means of the blending and variation of its own tones it seeks to introduce into the minds of those who are present the emotion which affects the speaker, and since it and by the building of phrase upon phrase raises a sublime and harmonious structure are we not, I say to hold that harmony by these selfsame means allures us and invariably disposes us to stateliness and dignity and elevation and every emotion which it contains within itself, gaining absolute mastery over our minds? (Longinus)

The sublime.  We've heard the term bandied about, and those of us who are familiar with underlying ideas of Romanticism will immediately think "Edmund Burke."  Well, Longinus thought it first.  My intent, however, is not to give a lesson but to urge you to think about what it that writing does to us.

What do words do?  When you read, what are the words stirring inside of you? If it sublime, it lifts and inspires heightened emotions.  If it's well-written, in inspires loftier things--it "seeks to introduce into the minds of those who are present the motion which affects the speaker."  And if it's successful, oh what can it do?  These words can create a work that "allures us and invariably disposes us to stateliness and dignity and elevation and every emotion which it contains within itself," and here's the rub: "gaining absolute mastery over our minds".

That, my friends, is why we read literature.  To feel that inspiration, that rush of emotion, the elevation of the mind and heart.  And why do we study writing and try to teach it?  I would hope it would be show our students that writing is powerful and that they too can grasp at least a measure of that power and wield it.

(Party) Dress

I had an engagement party last weekend (so fun!), so I decided to use some of my precious spare time (read: time I should be reading) to make a new dress.  I was at the new fabric store with AW and found a great Burda Style pattern (No. 7517) and some great discount material.  The dress only needed 2 yards!  To make a whole dress!

Anyway, so after deciding it was worth about $15 to buy pattern/dress (though, after zipper and other materials, probably closer to $20 or $25), I went home and made it.  I got quite obsessed with finishing and stayed up until 1 or 2 am, working on it.

It turned out, and it turned out exceedingly well.  You see, I actually took the time to carefully measure and resize the pattern to fit me precisely.  (It turns out that I'm a mix of three sizes, go figure).  The pattern was really good in that it was both easy and had a great size chart so I could figure it all out.  I also carefully sewed everything, so all the seams were in place and the zipper wasn't all crooked.

And when I zipped it up, I was surprised and delighted to discover that it fit me perfectly.  It was lovely.  After the picture was taken, I was able to adjust the front pleats a bit more to lay flatter (no additional sewing required!).  I want to make another out of cotton and maybe three more just for the hell of it.  It was stylish and wonderful, and it was the perfect thing to wear to a party to celebrate our engagement.

Wedding Planning Recommences!

Lance and I have been engaged for three months now, but somehow I think we're a little behind on wedding planning.  Here are things I have done:

• tried on wedding dresses (and ruled out buying one)
• obtained a dress to take apart and make mine out of
• picked wedding cake recipes for my aunt to make
• figured out bridesmaids/groomsmen and officiant

Here are the things we probably should be doing but haven't yet:

• set a date (well, we did this once already, but it fell through)
• register
• figure out a budget
• decide dresses/suits/Lance's suit
• food
• photographer
• engagement photos

 Luckily, thanks to an awesome friend, we may have figured out where the darn thing is going to be.  And now that we've figured out where, we can figure out the when.  And the budget.  For some reason, so much of our planning was hinging on that not-so-minor decision.  Now that we have a where (which I'm really excited about because it's going to be SO COOL. And budget-friendly!), I'm back in wedding planning mode again.  Lance and I have decided we're going to try for the cheap-yet-fun wedding award, and we're excited.  As you can probably tell from my overuse of the italics.

Let the wedding planning excitement continue!  I'm obviously out to make this as much fun as humanly possible instead of aggravating as it too often seems.

Post-Stabbing Shirt

When you accidentally stab yourself, you need to have a good story.  Oh, look.  I'm injured.  How'd I do it, you ask?  Well...that's a great story.  You see, there was a puppy, a crazed monkey, and a knife...

Anyway, I stabbed myself yesterday in the arm, near my elbow. Unfortunately, I don't have a great story.  Not even really a good story.  But here it is: I was washing dishes, and I was reaching around the other side of the dish rack to put a mug down when I clipped the utensil caddy.  In an attempt to catch it (while not breaking my mug), I flailed and ended up jamming my arm down hard on the tip of a very sharp paring knife, knocking the utensil caddy on the form and luckily dodging the other two sharp knives while keeping them from piercing my toes.  I called Lance in a panic, and he came home to find me in a slight state of shock, drenched in sweat from the adrenaline rush, pressing a paper towel to my bleeding arm.

After he patched me up, Lance finished the dishes while I calmed down and realized that my knife injury now limits my range of motion, meaning I pierced the muscle that controls my hand--thus inhibiting my ability to grasp things well, type, or lift things.

Today, though, I was feeling a bit better, so I decided to do a little sewing.  I cut out a pattern for a cute shirt I'd been eyeballing (and had a piece of fabric picked up for super cheap!)  Lance came through, and as he has acquired many apples, he wanted me to make him a muslin press bag for his apple press.  So I cut out and sewed that, then decided to keep up the craftiness and made this:

It's stretchy and comfy and I really like it.  I look forward to wearing it out sometime soon!  When I'm less stabbed.

Women and Literary Production

I'm taking a course in feminist theory this semester, so I thought I'd share some of my reading journal from this week (we're reading from Feminist Literary Theory: A Reader, edited by Mary Eagleton):

            When men control the means of written production, how is a woman to speak publicly? Chapter 2 is concerned primarily with women and literary production: how it has been limited by men, by feminism, by society.  Eagleton indicates these factors kept women from speaking out, and if they did, often their writing was viewed as inferior to men’s.  The two excerpts from Woolf—Shakespeare’s sister and killing the Angel of the House—deal with the difficulties of being a woman who longs to write and wishes to write about her experiences in a woman’s body, but is prevented from doing so: either prevented from writing at all or from writing about ideas that are considered “improper.”  Olsen looks at the silencing of women, which begins at birth and prevents their entry into the class of writers.

            Eagleton’s introduction to Chapter 2 got me thinking about modern means of production, especially the Internet.  Women are among the most active writers on the Internet, with the advent of “mommy blogs” and other communities created by women for women.  Each year, a conference is held for female bloggers (called BlogHer), where they meet and mingle and discuss issues about being a woman and being a public writer.  Many of these bloggers are given opportunities to write books based on their blogs, meaning more women are producing books. While blogging seems empowering for women, since the means of production is removed from male hands, I have to wonder if this trend is simply another way to keep women writing only about “female” concerns: being a mother, cooking, housekeeping, etc.  And obviously among female bloggers there are a good number who are concerned with feminist undertakings (blogs like Jezebel and Feministing, for example) and publish books that question the status quo (I’m thinking, for example, about a book by Jessica Valenti called The Purity Myth, which examines the American obsession with women’s virginity and how it ultimately damages women).  Anyway, are we moving toward a time when women’s writing isn’t viewed as inferior to men’s or women are pushed toward writing about stereotypically female concerns, or does the growth in women writing on the Internet contribute to these trends?  Perhaps, as Woolf says, “So accurately does history repeat itself” (77).

Computers

Today, I found the TA computer lab, to which I have a key.  It was exciting because I ended up hanging out with a bunch of other graduate students and not doing any work.  But there was the potential to do work, oh yes.  I did print a couple of things.  And e-mailed cake recipes to my aunt for the wedding I'm supposed to be planning.

Since quitting my job, I'm sitting at the computer a LOT less.  Which means all my sharebros on Google Reader are seeing a lot fewer recipes and cats in their shared items.  What it also means is that I'm moving around more and seem to be embarking on a successful graduate school diet, mostly because my graduate school friends are too poor to afford chocolate to share with me, so my sugar consumption has been way down since I also cannot afford chocolate.  I'm also biking to school daily--going on three weeks straight now.

Since I'm not on the computer as much, I'm relying on my phone for e-mail and Facebook.  But since the screen is very tiny, I'm not fond of staring at it too long, so I glance at it every now and then and return to work.

I am, however, going to be spending a lot of time on the computer tonight and tomorrow.  Because I have to do research.  It would seem that my computer-time will now be spent in the pursuit of more knowledge.  Right now, I'm looking at programs that teach science and literacy together--how interesting!  It seems that I cannot escape my science peeps.

It's raining, and I'm at the computer.  Time to do some science reading and head to bed.

P.S. Graduate school rocks.

Back to School!

It was the first day: I eagerly waited outside my classroom door, waiting for class to start.  When it did, the fifty minutes flew by so quickly that I was stunned when class was completed. The next day were the same: a flurry of notes and discussion and talking to professors about my new roles as a first year Ph.D. student.

I'm really excited to be starting back to school, and I've been reading and thinking and doing, and it's not even the end of the second week.  I'm no longer working at my old job; instead, my job now is to learn and think and write and research.  And I'm beyond happy.

I got a desk in an office, and I like my officemates.  I've already had discussions about Orientalism, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, cultural misunderstandings, and teaching techniques.  I've been learning about classical rhetoric (so fascinating!), how to teach freshman composition (also really interesting!), and feminist theory (I'm liking this one a lot too).  It's all really interesting, and even though I may be working longer days than eight-to-five, it flies by.  I come home energized, telling Lance all about Bahktin and his dialogical theories and how neat rhetorical theory is.

If I had any doubt that I was meant to be an academic, it was erased during the first week as the joy of being in school washed through me.  But it's not just about being in school; no, it's about being in the position to focus solely on academic pursuits.  My work ties into my studies.  I'm tutoring in the writing center, which is in line with my interests in teaching and researching pedagogy.  The projects that I'm working on for my adviser also tie into those interests.  Working full-time while going to school was difficult, and though I was lucky to be able to get into a good place financially before starting a Ph.D. program, I know I missed so much during my MA program by not being a full-time student.  This time, it's for real.  I'm a student all the way, and I'm fully immersing myself in the culture of academia and the mindset of being a scholar.

Weekday Pancakes

I love pancakes.  My love of pancakes has been previously documented here and here (and probably some other places).  Now, pancakes are normally a weekend, slow-day kind of breakfast, but I woke up and wanted, nay, needed pancakes.  And I had bananas.  Banana pancakes!

Joy the Baker loves pancakes every bit as much as I do, so I searched her site and came up with her Whole Wheat Banana Pancakes.  Yum.  So I whipped them up quickly this morning, and as I was getting ready for work, Lance cooked them.  (Go team!)  Together, we made lovely pancakes and shared them with another, and it was on a weekday.  Sometimes you just have to have pancakes on a weekday, and it makes the day a little more special.

I modified the recipe a bit (based on what I had in my kitchen), but these pancakes were things of beauty.  They were fluffy and delicious and ranked near my favorite oatmeal pancake in deliciousness and texture.  I may have to make these again, because they were that good.

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes
(adapted from Joy the Baker, who adapted it from The Gourmet Cookbook

• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup buckwheat flour
• 1/3 cup cornmeal
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 large eggs, separated
• 1 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 cup canola oil
• 1 1/2 ripe bananas, mashed

In a large bowl, combine flours, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder/soda, salt, egg yolks, and buttermilk.  Stir (but don't overmix! Use your dough whisk!) and let sit for at least 5 minutes to hydrate the flours.

In a small bowl, mash banana and add oil.  Add to the flour mixture.

Beat the egg whites until fluffy.  Gently fold into the batter.  If it's a little thick (mine was) add some more milk or water.

Cook them in a skillet and devour.

I'm Sticking With You

In my transition to someone who would major in English, I encountered this John Donne poem:

THE GOOD-MORROW

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I
Did, till we lov'd? were we not wean'd till then?
But suck'd on countrey pleasures, childishly/
Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den?
T'was so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desir'd , and got, t'was but a dream of thee.

And now good morrow to our walking soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare;
For love, all love of other sights controules,
And makes one little roome, an every where.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne,
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,
And true plaine hearts do in the faces rest,
Where can we find two better hemispheares
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dies, was not mixt equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

I love the emotion expressed throughout this poem.  It is intense passion, the joy of finding an awaking of soul in another person--in finding that one lacked, but simply didn't realize it until the speaker met his love.  Donne is well known for being a physical poet; he evokes the senses.  In this poem, the lovers are lying in bed, in their "one little roome," gazing so intently that they see each other in the other's eye.  Instead of saying that they find themselves reflected in each other's heart or something non-physical, he gives us that lovely image, where they literally see.  Their love is so intense that they can lose themselves in one another (and, knowing Donne, he means emotionally and sexually), and their tiny bedroom is "an every where."

Donne is one of my favorite poets, and I've enjoyed his poetry since I was a high-school senior; my AP English teacher's use of him to show how intense and full of meaning poetry can be is one reason that I became an English major.

I liked this poem, but after Lance and I had been dating for a while, it suddenly made more sense.  I could understand the intensity of the speaker, feel a love that makes one feel like the world wasn't complete until that person appeared.  There is no worrying about the future in Donne's poem; he simply seeks to capture one little moment full of love, passion, and joy.

All of this discussion of love and great poetry is my long-winded way of announcing that Lance and I are engaged (though most of my readers probably know by now from other sources).  I was happy to be a girlfriend, but I'm excited to move into a new phase of our relationship as fiancée and wife.  I'm not sure I could ask for a better partner, and I'm so glad that six years ago I tagged along with some friends to a party where I first met this cute curly-headed guy and tried to get his attention by playing four-square and smiling.  We have made our own little world with one another, and the possibilities of the future are endless.

For the Love of Kittens

A. shared an article about kittens adopted by soldiers in Afghanistan.  And it was more adorableness than I could stand.  I'm glad when defenseless creatures find good homes, and I have to hope they give something to those soldiers as well.

Which then reminded me about the wee little kitty in our home.  You would not believe how much better she is.  She was listless and sleepy when we first got her (we realize now that she likely would have died if we hadn't rescued her), but just one week later, and she's eating enthusiastically, playing, pouncing around, begging for love, and just being as adorable as a tiny cat can be.

We're still hoping to find her a home. She's got a sweet personality, but she still has a tiny feral streak and gets occasionally a little freaked out by random things.  She's taken to following us around though, and doesn't seem to mind one bit when I scoop her up and carry her around.

Yes, I know it sounds like I'm attached, but who wouldn't be?

At least we haven't named her.  I hope that her new owners find her soon--she needs a good home.  We'd keep her, but we have two cats already, and one is very angry about the new kitten (she, in fact, has an "anger box" where she goes to sulk about the tiny cat).  If you are (or know!) anyone who would be a good fit for this little rescue cat, let me know!

Rescue Mission

I have a soft spot for the less fortunate.  I try to do my part, donate money and time and resources where I can, and hope that it's enough.  Mostly, I think I should do more.

Two weekends ago, we were visiting Lance's grandmother.  She has a stray cat population that she (more or less grudgingly) has been feeding and sheltering.  Lance's mom has been doing her best to find homes for the tamer ones and spay/neuter the ones she can catch so that the cat herd thins out a bit.  Kittens still turn up, however, and we'd noticed two cute little tabbies.  Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the smallest one was sick--she had a respiratory infection, gunky eyes, and was gaunt because she was too small to compete with the bigger kitties (including her littermate) for food.  I pleaded with Lance for us to take her to the vet, but he thought she would probably get better without our help.

Last weekend, we went up, and she wasn't better.  In fact, she was probably worse--and when Lance felt her tiny little ribs sticking out, he decided we could do our best to get her well, on the condition that we find her a new home (so, if you're near me: free kitty!).  I took her to the vet yesterday, and she has an upper respiratory infection, as suspected, as well as suffering from fleas, dehydration, diarrhea, and possibly some other things.  The poor thing weighed in at 1.5 pounds (her brother is almost twice her size) and sat hunched over and looking pretty miserable and pathetic. She didn't even fight me as we took her home, then took her back and forth from the vet.

We anticipate that under our care (and antibiotics) that she'll start to get better and go on to be a happy kitty.  This is the fifth cat that I've rescued or helped to rescue (I kept two of them), so I feel pretty good about helping out tiny, defenseless animals.  Especially when they grow up to be such awesome kitties:

Then I got to thinking about the time and resources I was using to rescue animals.  Wouldn't it better to use it to help people? my conscience dinged.  That was troubling.  By choosing to spend $40 on a sick kitten, was I saying that people who are in desperate need aren't as worthy as a kitten?  Wouldn't the time I spent nursing the kitten back to health be better spent volunteering to help people?

Ultimately, I don't know.  Maybe I'm not directing my energies in the right direction.  Maybe what matters is that I'm trying to help a suffering creature, even if she is just a kitten.  I don't think it's a matter of rating animals higher than people; instead, it's a matter of taking responsibility for creatures we domesticated and who wouldn't necessarily thrive (let alone survive) without human interaction.  And I'm sure this tiny kitten will bring something special to her future owner's life.

In Which I Resolve to Speak My Mind

It had been almost a year since I had an actual conversation with my dad.  Due to a series of announcements, misunderstandings, misfires in communication, and a general reluctance to simply deal with our issues, the last time I talked to my dad was Father's Day 2009.  It's been a tough year.

I've been angry, sad, unhappy, annoyed, resolved, and myriad other adjectives about the whole situation.  I doubt that everything is fixed, really, but I think we're finally making a start.  We cried, laughed, apologized, and talked for two hours.  I got off the phone emotionally drained, but optimistic.

The one thing I've realized after wading through our reasons for how we dealt with each other is that I need to be more assertive.  If you met me ten years ago (or even five), you'd realize that I'm much more assertive than I used to be.  But I need to be bold, be unafraid to speak my mind, and stand up for myself.  They (my parents and others) may not like what I have to say, but I think that being upfront and honest is the best way to handle a lot of situations.  Things get ugly, I've discovered, when people don't communicate and deal with problems.  By speaking my mind, the other party has the opportunity to voice theirs and perhaps clear the air, instead of sulking and having the wrong ideas about the situation.

It was easy to blame them for a lot, but I have to take a bit of responsibility myself and admit that I was afraid to directly confront some of the issues.  I honestly didn't think they would listen--or I thought they did listen and just weren't interested in what I had to say.  And part of that is true.  I can't expect everyone to handle situations the same way I do, and I can't expect them to confront something.  Sometimes, they need to be forced to confront it.

Anyway, I'm glad the situation is changing, at the very least, and hopefully it'll be a change for the better.  And I am learning that I should just be strong and speak my mind, even if it's a little uncomfortable.  Of course, speaking my mind doesn't mean I should be tactless or undiplomatic.  I'm just thinking about it as good practice for both life and my future career.