That Ridiculous Girl

MORNING UPDATE -

2010-11-13T09:13:00.001-08:00

Hi! So I'm doing NANOWRIMO.
What is that, you say? A very dumb endeavor.
NANOWRIMO stands for National Novel Writing in a Month.

All across the world, people sign up (for fun, no less!) and commit to write a 50,000 word manuscript during the month of November from scratch. That's 1667 words a day. It's November 13, and I'm at 12,000 words. Just a few, oh, THOUSAND behind schedule.

Here's the deal:
I'm naturally not that great of a writer, but I'm also very aware of it. It's like being a crazy person who knows you're crazy. Just makes you crazier! So in my head, I filter out the crap until the average pours forth. I can live with average. But the idea of spitting out whatever comes forth from my head (which is truly crap in its basest level) means that my crap would become a huge PILE of crap -- 50,000 words of it! And I might never write again!

So in an effort to compromise -- I am writing at the below average level. Not deplorable, but not high enough to be mediocre. I'm writing more than I normally would but less than I should. About a thousand a day. And I know I'm missing the whole point of NANOWRIMO, but this little kid needs baby steps when pride is involved.

So here I am today at a coffee shop writing in my blog instead of writing my novel. HAH! Typical.

I even wrote two book reviews today.

The Secret Life of Prince Charming by Deb Caletti

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Too many lessons. Felt like the book was one long lecture from a parent about waiting for the right guy and why. Too in your face. But I do love Deb Caletti. Her writing is always entertaining.

She did a sort of "When Harry Met Sally" thing. You know how that movie stopped the movie to interview couples about their marriages and how they met? Well Caletti interrupted her story with diary/journal-ish monologues by various older women in the novel and their past non-Mr.-Perfects they dated. Cute. Different. But man, after a while, I just skipped the interludes because I felt like it pulled away from the flow of the story.

I thought the book could have been about 50 pages shorter and still been a great novel. Too much excess introspection. That being said, I still like Deb Caletti, and I'll still read another book by her. I love love loved HONEY, BABY, SWEETHEART so I know she has genius in her. It's just a matter of pulling it out at the right moments. :)

View all my reviews

REVIEW #2:
The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

I feel like the style is kind of a gorier (is that a word?) version of Bram Stoker's DRACULA, but it doesn't quite hold a candle to DRACULA. There's at least one SAT word per page, and Yancey does work them in nicely without it feeling like it's an SAT-prep course, but...

The book is a labor of love. I make sure to read a minimum of one chapter before bed, so there must be some disconnect between me and the book if it's a discipline rather than a joy.

As I read, I find the language beautiful. His dialogue is brilliant at covertly conveying character (hey, nice alliteration, HB), but alas, I'm not riveted.

View all my reviews

A tribute to Periplaneta americana Linnaeus: THE COCKROACH

2010-09-02T09:04:00.001-07:00

Moving to a new classroom this year.
Yesterday, I went in to organize.
Look at this lovely treat I found:

Yummy! Apparently cockroaches get stuck on duct tape (I tell you, duct tape can be used for ANYTHING!) I think one cockroach got stuck, and since cockroaches are attracted to dead cockroaches and excrement, the rest of them were like, "Yes! Lunch! Oh crap, I'm stuck."

Cockroaches are fascinating creatures. It is estimated that 2 cockroaches are enough to populate an average size home in one year with enough cockroaches to go one meter deep. Not even making this stuff up. There are at least 4000 species of cockroaches in the world. Only 70 in the United States. Most live in Florida, home of navel oranges, old people, crocs in swimming pools, and apparently 41 species of cockroaches.

They're resilient little creatures. Probably because all they need for food is their own excrement and each other. Yep, they're cannibals. And omnivores. They also love bread, stale beer, wine, alcohol, fatty acids, and peanut butter... can you blame them? They crave damp even temperatures (like my classroom) with great places to hide in the walls. They're survivors.

Because they survive and multiply like mad, they are the financial backbone of the pest control industry. Why do we want to exterminate them? Oh, I don't know. Maybe because they carry fungi, viruses, protozoa, and 40 kinds of bacteria (gross stuff) pathogenic (that can cause disease) to vertebrates (that's us). And they're middle-guy hosts to flatworms. Yippy.

And with their crazy diet and all the diseases they carry, they still scurry around like they go to the gym every day. As much as I cringe and have a quick body spasm every time I come across one, I equally salute the little vermin.

What America can learn from cockroaches:
They're resilient.
They're adaptable.
They provide jobs.

Hi, Colorado

2010-08-05T13:44:00.000-07:00

As you can tell, I tend to be a little inconsistent in life (AKA blogging every day and then stopping for no apparent reason). I have many days that I'M bored with myself, so I figure why make other people's lives more boring by making them read about it?

But a friend told me that I need to blog just to blog. So here I go. This one's for you, Sean. Blah.

Today, I'm in Colorado. I surprised my mom for her b-day by showing up to the parents' RV. It's one of the great things you can do when you're a non-breeder -- just pick up and go.

So I showed up at the doorstep of their camper, (Dad was still out fishing), and I said, "Hello? Anybody home?"

She responded, "Can I help you?"

Then she stared at me for a second as all the synapses were running amok in her, processing why her daughter was in the wrong geographic location... was she delusional, was I dead and swinging by on my way upwards, and then it hit her. I was here. For reals.

You'd think a bear was attacking her the way she screamed. Sadly, no one came to her rescue, which makes me think they need to revamp the Neighborhood Watch policy among retirees of Dolores River RV Campground.

She regrouped, cried, and then laughed, and then planned... the entire range of my mother in a 30 second interval.

Yesterday we drove to Telluride.

It's the weekend of the Jazz Festival, so the place is bumping. It's also home to the popular film festival most creatively named, "The Telluride Film Festival."

If you've never seen this cute little "tucked away like a tooth in your pillow" ski town, here are some pics.

Yep, that's a waterfall in the distance. Makes you catch your breath, doesn't it?

Telluride is one of those small towns who still have signs hanging from all the storefronts announcing what they are:

And houses with strict building codes to preserve that "historical look".
And in the backyard of the main street, you'll see the ski runs.

In the past 24 hours with the 'rents, I've noticed one of the quirky and beautiful things of a 40-year-old marriage. My parents have their own language.

Example:

MOM: (lying down for the night) Oh, I forgot to get a glass of water.
Translation: Husband, please get a glass of water for me.

And he does! Every time! He doesn't try to correct her the way our teachers did when we would ask, "Can I go to the restroom?"
TEACHER: I don't know, CAN you?
Didn't you always want to say back, "Seriously, you DON'T KNOW if I can go to the bathroom? Have they lowered the bar on what you have to know to become a teacher?"

Back to the parental units, Dad (on autopilot) translates in his head, gets up, and brings my mom a glass of water EVERY SINGLE TIME! Happily! It's crazy, I know. But love is a funny animal. And love each other, they do.

It happened all day:

I jotted this note on my iPhone --

-----------------------------------------------------------------
As we exit the campsite to head to Telluride, Dad is driving. Mom is talking on her cell phone. She actually says into her phone, "Oh, we never made my nail appointment. Oh well." She points to the left anyway.

My dad, fluent in the language of Mom, makes a left, (even though Telluride is to the RIGHT) because what she really means is, "Can we make the appointment before we head to Telluride?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------

I often stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at their crazy non-communication communication, wondering how many sentences they have created that actually mean something else entirely. They have no problem with it. No one asks for clarification, or gets annoyed that they don't mean what they say. They know what they mean. And that is all that matters.

My thoughts on Obesity

2010-06-06T15:44:00.000-07:00

There are many interesting things I could talk about on my blog today...

1) Why do they call it "walking pneumonia"? I don't feel like walking. I feel like "laying". Why don't they call it "Knock you on your ass pneumonia"? Much more accurate.
2) What do they put in that dog food? Seriously, my dog can evacuate a country with that flatulence. And why does she insist on laying down next to me before she starts evacuation procedures? I'm slowly being asphyxiated as I write this because of the "Knock you on your ass pneumonia" nailing me to the couch (see #1).
3) What's up with our fat country?

#3 wins.

Strangely, as I'm finally getting around to grading old essays, the topic most on my mind today is obesity. One of the units we discuss every year in English class has to do with the alarming increase in childhood obesity in our nation. Here are some crazy facts:

According to the CDC (Center for Disease Control)

2-5 year olds (percentage who are obese)
1980 - 5%
2008 - 10.4%

6-11 year olds
1980 - 6.5%
2008 - 19.6%

12-18 year olds
1980 - 5%
2008 - 18.1%

Crazy, huh? So there are many articles written by extremely intelligent people who differ on their opinions of who is to blame. The parents? The lack of nutritional content offered to make an informed decision? The lack of alternatives to fast food for kids in low-income neighborhoods? (The obesity rate is higher for inner city kids. You can't exactly tell that kid to go outside and ride his bike.) Is it the marketing that combines cute cartoon characters with junk food? The lack of physical exercise in schools? Maybe it's the super-sizing and portion distortion that's making America's waistlines pop at the seams. It's a crazy debate, and not an easy solution.

Nor is this blog a platform for me to rant to you about my political position on this topic; I have none. I can only read the articles and help kids write organized essays about them!

But I find these facts fascinating so I'm going to share.

On the portion distortion topic:

Do you ever wonder why they call the small size at starbucks a "Tall" and why the medium is called "grande"? How annoyed do you get when you say on accident, "Can I have a medium?" only to have the Starbucks barista correct you and say, "A grande?" And you have to say yes, even though everything in your logical mind knows that grande means "large" in every freaking language.

It's because Starbucks hopped on the super-sizing band wagon when they realized it worked. The sizes used to be "Short", "Tall", and "Grande", which totally makes sense. But who wants a 12 ounce nowadays, really? They discontinued the "short" and introduced the "Venti" -- 20 ounces of your sipping pleasure.

They did this case study at Cornell University with some movie-goers watching Mel Gibson's movie "Payback". They gave half of the audience each a large bucket of popcorn, and the other half each received an extra-large bucket. Nobody finished off their bucket, but when the researchers weighed all the leftover popcorn, the group with the extra-large buckets ate 45% more. CRAZY! Therefore proving if you put more in front of us, we're gonna eat more.

And not that our country needs any more financial problems, but between 1987 and 2001, diseases associated with obesity accounted for 27 percent of the increases in medical costs. I won't bore you with all the statistics about how much diseases related to Type 2 Diabetes are currently costing our nation, but do a google search if you're curious.

I have no conclusion to this, no great finale to send you off to the gym, and I'm only writing about this because I went to the movies the other night (saw DATE NIGHT - totally recommend it). While I was there, I noticed they now post the calorie content of your "movie meal".
I love the range of soda calories: oh, between 2.8 and 444.

In case you wanted to add some cheese and bread accessories to your popcorn, coke, and twizzlers, here are some more fat-free numbers:

I guess there are people out there who need clarification that water does in fact contain zero calories. Did anybody else's jaw drop to the floor when you read that nachos are 1400 calories? Whaaa?

In case you're going into hibernation, here's your one stop shop for getting an entire season's worth of calories in one meal.

P.S. I totally almost got kicked out of the movie theater by a 16-year-old concession stand girl who was indignant at me taking pictures of the prices. She made me erase them from my camera... which of course I did, as you can tell.

In the Classroom: Lessons in Irony

2010-05-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

Written on my board by my student My'Jina about another student, Scoey:

"Scoey is a dumby"

Shouted across the room by my student Traysha at another student, Ronald:

"What do you mean, 'can I spell grateful?' If you go to church, you know how to spell fuckin grateful!"

Yelled at no one in particular by my student Jilvonnie about CST's (California State Testing):

"Why do they give us these tests if we don't know the any of the answers?"

Africa: Snakes

2010-04-22T20:52:00.000-07:00

Sorry, folks. Grades are due tomorrow, and so I've been a little bad about writing this week. And if you saw the sad sack of papers in front of me (still yet to be graded), you'd wonder why I even opened my blog today. Here's why:
You may be asking yourself, "What's so great about this kid, Heather?" Well, this kid happened to save my life last summer. It's true.

Meet Jimmy.

There we were, our group traipsing along in the darkness back to camp one night. It was dark. I mean, DARK dark. There was no street lamp saying, "Hey, Heather, look. There's the ground." There was no light from the city creating, oh, I don't know, silhouettes. There was just Brooke's hand holding mine, reminding me she was there, and a flashlight. Now Brooke had been screaming when a leaf would brush up against her, so maybe she wasn't the best choice for a companion through the dark, but she also happened to be a NINJA, which I discovered as she suddenly leapt onto me screaming, "Snake! Snake!"

I was like, "Really, Brooke?" expecting to see a twig on the ground. But as I shined my flashlight down where Brooke's foot SHOULD HAVE stepped, there was a little teeny snake wriggling across our dirt path. We recoiled, and out of the darkness, Jimmy appeared, asking, "Where?" Brooke screamed and pointed and screamed some more. Jimmy ran after it, I kid you not. He charged at it and started stomping madly, kicking up dust and jumping down on that thing like he wanted to create an African Grand Canyon.

He stopped, and then gave one more stomp for good measure. Then he took the flashlight out of Brooke's hand and shone it down on the limp snake. He said, calmly and quietly with his thick accent, "Ohh. Baby Cobra. Very deadly."

I was like, "OMG, Jimmy! You just killed a COBRAAAAAA! We need a pic!"
Brooke was giggling and screaming, "WHAT? What did you say, Jimmy? What do you MEAN, very deadly! What do you MEAN, cobra! You said that we didn't have to worry if we stayed on the dirt paths! You said the snakes don't like the dirt roads because it scrapes their bellies. What was it doing there? What was it DOING there?"

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and responded, "It wanted to get to the other side."
Amazing that that little critter packs so much in his punch. They are dangerous as babies because they don't control their venom. Some of the venom attacks the nervous system, which causes paralysis. Then the other part of the venom, the cardiotoxins, shut down your heart. Awesome. And knowing all that, if we're bit, we're supposed to remain calm. Riiiiight.

There is a lot of debate about what is the deadliest snake in the world. Some people think the Cobra; others say The Black Mamba; and still others, "The Fierce Snake" of Australia. Okay, so The Fierce Snake wins when it comes to venom.
This little guy is 50 times as toxic as a cobra, and a cobra's pretty darn toxic! It's 400 times as toxic as a rattlesnake. But the good news about this one is he's shy. He says, "Hey guys, leave me alone and I won't kill you. In fact, if I see you, I will wriggle in the other direction. I can't help it if I'm deadly. It came with my teeth."

The cobra is also deadly, but we have plenty of antivenom out there for a person who is bit. Notice our little baby cobra above -- he wasn't out to get us. He was wriggling along. The Black Cobras aren't aggressive by nature. Tick them off, though, and they can stand up tall and get face-to-face before attacking you.

And then there is the Black Mamba. There is also the Green Mamba, which disappears into the trees, but the Black Mamba is much more aggressive. They've been known to chase their victims and bite them repeatedly.
Notice how he's gray, not black. He's named after his mouth. If you were to peer inside, you'd see it was black. And then you'd be dead. Don't peer into his mouth. That's dumb.

So to recap, here's what we've learned:

COBRA: longest
FIERCE SNAKE: most venomous
BLACK MAMBA: most aggressive
GREEN MAMBA: ha ha, you can't see me. I'm a tree, I'm a leaf.

I will never forget that night in Africa when Brooke actually wasn't crying wolf! It sounds dramatic. Maybe it is. But come on! The guy stomped a Cobra to death not five feet from me.

It IS dramatic!

I made Jimmy reenact it all the following morning.

In the Classroom: Free Time

2010-04-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this from Facebook, you absolutely need to click on this: THAT RIDICULOUS GIRL.

Otherwise you will miss out on priceless footage in my classroom.

I went back to my desk for TWO minutes while I helped a student print an essay from my computer. In the meantime, another student pulled his camera out and video-taped what happens in my classroom when I turn my back for ONE SECOND...

And you thought this craziness only happened in the movies! Yes, they are free-styling (making it up as they go), and yes, it is a good thing you can't discern every word out of their mouths.

Ohhhh, fifth period...

In the Classroom: Essay Prompt

2010-04-16T21:29:00.000-07:00

I recently gave my 10th grade English students a fun essay prompt from the newspaper "L.A. Youth":

Some of us can't wait to grow up. We think about the freedom of not having to follow our parents' rules, living on our own and doing things our way. When do you think you'll be an adult? Is it when you go to college or get a job or start a family? Does it happen automatically when you turn 18? What does it even mean to be an adult? Tell us when you think you'll be one and why.

The truth is I got some great essays. Insightful. Honest. Articulate. But those are no fun to blog about! Instead I will post my FAVE -- the one that will be sure to erupt a chuckle from you. I will only post an excerpt of it, and I will add a translation guide because it has taken me five years to "learn the language."

like = look
are = or
non = known
on = own
wont = want

"When I Become an Adult"

The college I want to go is U.C Santa Barbra there more options for me and would like better on my resume. when i turn 18 my mom said is going to be shipping me off to the nearest school. She said she`s not going to raise no bum so when I go to college I might g to culinary school since I love food and I can do what I love.

I love to cook and and make money so it would be perfected for me them Im going to got on fox and try out for hells kitchen. are go to Italy and perfect my cooking skills like cooking snails because white people like weird food and like spending money.

Some after Im done with Italy I`m going to come back to America I`m going to start a family with my model white girl. She might be a gold digger but I wouldn't care because i might be cheating on her with a black girl.

When i get old i wont to be non as a artist and be remember fro my food .And my on style and be rich for my cooking and host a show call Americans next iron chef

This excerpt doesn't even address the prompt, but hey, he maps out his future while delving into racial culinary desires as well as the philosophical question of whether adultery is justified when a spouse has married for financial gain. Brilliant.

Africa: The Very Hungry Caterpillar

2010-04-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

"In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf..."
Everyone remember that story?
Cute lil' thang, ain't he? The book is only 225 words, and yet has sold more than 30 million copies. It's a great counting/learning-to-read/stare-at-the-pretty-colors book. It's been translated into 50 languages.

Well I'm here to tell you that it has NOT been translated into Lugandan. Because in Uganda, the very hungry caterpillar is not a "cute lil' thang"!

Here's what he looks like. Notice the cotton-puff thin hairs surrounding his skinny body. Those hairs say, "F-you, world! Go ahead. I double-dog-dare you to mess with me."
Those hairs are covered with poison and each individual hair feels like a bee sting. And if you brush up against a caterpillar, you're not just getting one bee sting, sister.

Notice the picture below. You can barely even see the little guy. He's like, "Oh, look. I'm a twig. No, no. I'm a rock. A leaf. Mulch. Part of the innocent earth for you to walk barefoot across. Bwa-ha-ha."
The little Ugandan children were like "Whatever" about snakes. But one night when a "very hungry caterpillar" fell from a tree onto the deck where we were having movie night, the kids screamed and scattered like we were watching Nightmare on Elm Street and Freddy Kruger had just dropped out of the sky.

I've lived most of my life in Las Vegas and Los Angeles so I do not know about these crazy little crawlers. Apparently, there are some poisonous caterpillars right here in Florida too. Who knew?

So what do you do? Well, you hope for the best. Some have been known to drop out of trees and land on you, accidentally, of course. But if they touch you, they will also "accidentally" sting you. And don't try the panic mode of swatting or brushing them off of your clothing. Your hand will scream profanities at you.

If you do get stung, prepare for a few days of intense pain, fevers, and headaches. You can remove some of the hairs by repeated stripping with an adhesive, like Scotch Tape. Then your best bet is an ice pack and baking soda paste. And as always, try NOT to be old, young, or sick when planning to get stung.

Ridiculous News

2010-04-14T16:33:00.000-07:00

So the news today has been very wild. Not as wild as our win last night over "Back of The Net."Yes, I play on a co-ed soccer league. It's a rec league. See above? Looks leisurely, right? Oh, no. Not when we play against "Back of the Net". Most of the plays usually look like this:
Their team HATES us. That's putting it lightly. It's such ridiculous animosity that it makes me giggle. I'm talking Huhh-ATE. The girls -- we just laugh. The boys? Their chests puff out a little more every time.

And you know what we're playing for? No, not money. No, not trophies. We're playing for t-shirts. That's what we win. And yet, last night, as Sean accidentally slid to the ground, the other team's guy said to him from the sideline, "Why don't you get up, you fat F&%$?" And I had to stop because I started laughing. Sean is all of 100 pounds sopping wet. And as I'm passing and faking and heading the ball, I'm thinking in my head, "If you're gonna insult, then at least be accurate!"

Last time we played them, the monster-sized Brit screamed at the ref (about me): "She's a CHEATER!"
To which I said, "Oh yah? Then that makes you a liar!" I was laughing while I said it, and I'm sure that didn't help my cause.

He does have a great accent. I'll give him that.

So it was the first round of play-offs and in I can't remember how long, we finally beat them. Man, it felt good. Most of them left without shaking our hands after the game. They all need a beer.

Okay, so back to the weird news today: Two articles stand out to me. One made me laugh, the other made me cry. Can you guess which is which?

ARTICLE 1

ARTICLE 2

Comments, anyone?

Africa: Jackfruit

2010-04-13T20:21:00.000-07:00

Here is a fruit that I had never seen or heard about until I went to Africa.
It's called Jackfruit.
Here it is hanging on a tree.
Can you believe this sucker stays attached by a vine?
The thing is a monster.
Below is a pile of picked jackfruits. Notice the bananas at the base of the pile.
This gives you an idea of their size.
Here's the cool thing. When you open up the jackfruit, you'd expect something solid inside, like watermelon or, oh I don't know, ONE FRUIT.
But when you open it, there's a gazillion of these little critters:

Individual fruits! Weird, huh! So I was excited. It looks fun and appetizing -- like a mango and a jalepeno mated!
Mmmm... but don't be deceived.
You know how some food may taste good, but you can't get past the smell?

That's jackfruit!

I'm not exaggerating or embellishing when I say that jackfruit smells like a pair of old dirty socks mated with a smelly ninth grade boy.

Who can eat anything that smells like B.O.?
My gag reflex took over and said, "No, no, Ridiculous Girl, you will not do such madness."

But jackfruit is very popular among the rural Ugandans because you get a lot of bang for your buck. It's full of carbs so it's really filling. It lasts a long time too (see the size above).
Yes, in a corn-filled field, it's nice to see something with Vitamin A, C, Calcium, and Iron.
Just plug your nose. It's rank!

WELCOME TO UGANDA REPOST FROM 2009

2010-04-12T20:26:00.000-07:00

THIS IS AN OLD BLOG FROM LAST YEAR'S AFRICA TRIP.
I COULDN'T UPLOAD PHOTOS AT THE TIME,
SO THIS IS REPRINTED WITH THE PHOTOS.
ENJOY!
I am writing this from somebody's phone since the internet is as common as blond hair here. Texting this posting is a labor of love, I will have you know! I will post pics as soon as I can I promise. In the meantime, here's some inconsequential details about life in Uganda.

Everyone here speaks English, and I mean England English -- not American English.
Therefore, I must retrain my spell-check Nazi brain not to hyperventilate when I see a billboard with the word "realise" or "authorise".

I brought with me two cans of Jungle Juice, which contains 100 percent deet, and today I showered myself with the spray can. Perhaps I went overboard, but I aim to kill all mosquitoes within a 40 mile radius.
I am confident of any bug spray that contains the word "jungle" in it. The "juice" part is a little misleading, as it will result in death if swallowed. I find that applying Jungle Juice is a sensation not unlike taking a shower in baby oil.

Note to self: Brooke's jungle-juiced up hand just grabbed hold of a pampers package and I noticed the plastic dissolved a little in her hand. Should I be concerned?
Can you see the faint trace of blue from the pampers package on Brooke's hand and chin? Yeahhh... We were lathering our bodies in the stuff that melts plastic. But no malaria for us!

What I learned today:

I exchanged 100 dollars for 212,500 shillings. That's 2125 shillings to the dollar for all those mathematically challenged.

"Shilling" is the currency -- very British. After alln the Brits colonized Uganda. Or should I say "colonised"?

I apologize to those of you who are saying, "Thanks, Captain Obvious. Who DOESN'T know that the Brits colonized Uganda?" The one who had Mrs. O'Keefe for 10th grade History, that's who! Mrs. O'Keefe, the old ex-nun from Ireland who handed out worksheets every day and said in her thick Irish leprechaun voice, "You're all a bunch o' turkeys!" Seriously, that's all I remember.

Driving in Uganda is like a big game of "chicken", except nobody is chicken. There are hardly any stoplights, but lots of pinwheel type roads, where you hop in the circle and hope you hop out in time. There is no road rage, but everybody cuts everybody else off. Very strange paradox.
Yes, I totally rode a Boda. Why? 'Cause you have to.
So helmets aren't included in the cab fare, and you have to ride side saddle, without being "culturally inappropriate" and grabbing onto your driver's waist. I might have broken that rule around a couple potholes.

Lunch was like speed dating for food. You sit down and about six waiters (from different restaurants) approach, and they place their menus on the table. Then they calmly try to "sell" their menu.
They're aggressive in a very soft-spoken manner (kind of like their driving skills). Once you pick up a menu, that waiter wins and takes your order. See these people talking to us. They're all waiters from DIFFERENT restaurants.
Ridiculous moment:

Steve asked, "Where's the capital?"

Jeami said, "This IS the capital. Kampala. We're in it."

Steve said, "No, I mean, the Capitol. The building."

Immediately in front of us, a security cop stopped traffic to let a whole caravan of fancy vehicles drive by.

Steve asked, "I mean, where's the president?"

Without missing a beat, our driver answered, "THERE is the president," pointing to the car driving not ten feet from us.

It was priceless.

"Geez, Steve," Paul said. "Cool trick. Do it again. Where's my million dollars? Go on. Ask it."

In the afternoon, we visited Sanyu Orphanage but I will refrain from stories until I can post the pics. In the meantime you can check out their website: www.sanyubabies.com. Or maybe its org. Not sure. Love you all. I'm going to bed and you're probably getting ready for lunch.

WELCOME BACK, RIDICULOUS GIRL!

2010-04-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

Oh Boy! How long has it been since I posted?
Yes, there have been some ridiculous moments (see above - and no, it wasn't Halloween), but overall, it's been a slow half of a year... with good reason.

And to my faithful five who will check my blog once in the next five months...
I finally finished my manuscript!

CHASING AFTER KNIGHT
331 pages
95,800 words

Because my blog has a "ridiculous" theme, you can see why you haven't heard from me. Call me crazy, but I don't think you would have enjoyed reading about my wild moments of staring at a Word Document for three hours every day after work. Thus, my blog went dark for six months.

And that's how long it took me to spit out the story swimming around in my brain.

It's a teen novel about a seventeen-year-old girl who chases after an A-list movie star (who's her age) to fix the friendship they had before he was famous.

At the bottom of this post, I've included the first chapter in the spirit of the 19th century authors. Did you know that many books were first printed in magazines -- only a little bit at a time? Take Charles Dickens, for example.

He wrote Oliver Twist from 1837-1839. Each month, he'd publish a little piece of it in a journal called Bentley's Miscellany.

Seriously, I think we all could have tolerated Oliver Twist if it came in monthly installments over a two-year period. :)

Anyway, maybe reading about teen angst is much more tolerable in little installments as well. So without further adieu, jump back to your teenage mentality and suspend your disbelief:

FIRST CHAPTER

Notes left on my white board

2010-03-13T20:55:00.000-08:00

It was Period 3.
I gave my students 10 minutes of free time.

My sweet student Michael, who screams and yells over me most of the time while I'm teaching, said, "Who wants to play Hangman?" He had no takers. His face dropped to his feet and he looked like he just lost his favorite puppy. I felt so bad for him that I volunteered, "I'll play with you, Michael." Here was his game: 54 letters! Oh wait, no, I stand corrected. 53 letters and one number.

In case you can't see it, here's a close-up. Notice the lack of an apostrophe -s; however, he made up for it by the addition of a number "3" as one of the 26 letters to choose from.

The little hellion actually made a hangman puzzle that admitted he was a little hellion. It was a bit adorable. I gave him a huge bear hug, and he might have blushed.

Notes left on my white board

2010-02-17T21:16:00.000-08:00

I'm not so great as you're English teacher....

Vacationing in your own city

2010-01-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

We all needed a break.
Meg was overworked planning for the upcoming photo shoot and fashion event.
Jamie had her last final for her Masters Degree two days prior.
I have students this year that make me straddle between laughter and a strong desire to drink.
And V? Well, Vanessa just needs any excuse to spend money.

...Actually, V works as a doctor at a jail, but she downplays it. She also has her private practice and she often flies out to help her dad at his clinic. But she's always like, "Oh, I don't do much..."

So the Friday before Christmas, V treated us to a hotel room at Terranea. If you've never visited this resort, it's only about 15 minutes from where we live, but it's like entering another city. Here's the map of Terranea. Click on the link to see what I mean.

We all left work early (except for Meg, who if you know anything about the fashion industry, you know there's no such thing as "leaving early"). The three of us basked on the porch of our oceanside room until sunset, reading our two faves: The New Yorker and Us Magazine. Brilliance and trash -- a perfect combo. I don't know how to use Photoshop, so I assure you these photos have no added colors to them, but check out the sunset:

For those locals, Terranea is a great place to get away for dinner. They have a few restaurants to choose from. We picked the one, Mar'Sel, where you couldn't understand the menu. Think I'm kidding? And I quote: "leg confit and goose liver foie gras." WTF? I learned many important dining facts that night. Roasted salsify is not salsa. Char is fish, not something blackened on a grill. The chef was amazing, despite his tattoo of salt on his arm.

Also, if you're a local, they have a jazz band that plays in the lobby on Friday nights. It's a bunch of older men, but be careful, they will call you out if you are four girls sitting on the couch with cocktails and your heads in four novels. I wrote this dialogue on my iPhone immediately after it happened because I couldn't believe it just did:

(Setting: A fireplace. Four girls on a couch enjoying their wine and their books before dinner. Old men setting up their band equipment. Background noise: Meg giggling throughout this entire interchange)

OLD MAN: Is this the book club?
VANESSA: Ohhh. How sad. We just got called out on a Friday night.
OLD MAN: We're going to be playing music in a little bit. Is that going to distract your book club?
JAMIE: No. When the music starts, we become the dance club.
OLD MAN: You're funny. You should be on stage. There's one leaving in the morning.
(he walks away)
ME: (to the girls privately) Like a stage coach? The stage coach is leaving?
VANESSA: What does that even mean?
JAMIE: I don't know. I think he just asked me to sleep with him.

After cocktails, we had a guy give us a ride in a golf cart to Mar'Sel, and on the way, he told us of a man who pays $30,000 a month just to live at the resort. We asked if there were a lot of families that came here, and he informed us us that currently the resort is doing "Elf Tuck-ins", where you can order one for your kids, and a worker dresses up in an elf costume and comes to read a story and tuck you in. We were like, "We HAVE TO call for an Elf Tuck-in". Fortunately for them, we were stuffed after a glorious dinner of who-knows-what, and instead we walked over to Nelson's for an after dinner glass of wine by the firepits.
In the morning, we woke up to this sunrise. Doesn't it look like a painting?
And locals... want to have a morning with a beautiful view? You don't have to spend the night to have this kind of ocean-front buffet breakfast:
On our way from the gym to our massages (glorious), we noticed this on a golf cart:
And we were like, "Hey, lady, there's a bird on your golf cart." Apparently, she knew. In fact, here is the coolest thing I learned -- even cooler than Elf Tuck-ins and Salsify. It only takes one bird of prey to keep out all the seagulls from this 120-acre resort. ONE! The resort has three because they do a bird show, where they explain it all, but suddenly I looked around and realized, there were NO SEAGULLS IN SIGHT! When does that happen on the coast of California?

In the beginning, the trainers would set the bird free for a 45 second flight multiple times throughout the day. Now, they just have to release him once a day, and that is enough to keep the seagulls away. Up close these birds are gorgeous. Check out the eyes on this owl.

It took me four pictures before I actually got his face on camera.
He really loved pulling an "Exorcist" move and twisting his head backwards. Maybe he was just camera shy. I was like a deer in headlights staring at his face. The stripes, the beak, the colors, the gorgeous eyes. It's creatures like this where you're like, "Damn, God, you're clever!"

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow!

2009-12-31T09:27:00.000-08:00

Wow, isn't it funny how when hair is attached to someone's head, it's so beautiful, but the second it's not attached, it becomes gross? Like you can run your fingers through it, and it's oh so pretty, but if you find it in your salad, you're ready to puke? Yeah, that's my hair below:

About two years ago, I thought, I should let my hair grow out and cut it for "Locks of Love", an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients. I have had quite a few friends who have donned wigs thanks to that lovely friend called "cancer", but I honestly don't think my thought process was that noble. It was more like Hmm, your hair grows dang fast. You should make a wig or something. Wait a sec....

Trust me, I'm telling you, this wasn't a totally selfless move, because once it got long, I totally fell in love with it, so I kept it.
Yesterday wasn't a significant anniversary of my hair growing venture, and it wasn't a follicular holiday, or a memory of someone's head shaving day. I was just feeling impulsive, so I chopped it off.

Here's the before:
Where'd it all go?
All gone! Mom told me to clean my room before the new year, because there's some Mexican tradition that you are supposed to get everything in order before the New Year (ie throw out old stuff, clean, organize, cut out bad habits). Then on New Year's Day you're supposed to do everything you WANT to do, and that (magically and Mexicanly) will set the tone for what the whole year will be like. I just cut off my hair. Much easier than the bedroom debacle.
Maybe it will magically and Mexicanly signify a year of cutting off everything heavy -- lifting, lightening, dismissing... like the cop dismissing that $240 ticket for that dumb No Turn on Red that was covered by the non-Mexican tree?

One can dream, she thinks as she pulls out her checkbook...

Snowboarding and Snakes

2009-12-27T10:46:00.000-08:00

This is what I have been doing for the past week. I'm in South Lake Tahoe, snowboarding both California and Nevada, depending on which lift you take. The snow isn't the softest, but perhaps it would help if I could land a jump on something besides my head. I am in love (perhaps in an unhealthy way) with my helmet. I have quite a dependent relationship with him. So yes, Lake Tahoe... check out the view, if you can get past my parents' retro one-piece ski outfits.

They sure don't make ski suits like they used to. You can never lose your parents for long when they're donned in purple, teal, and hot pink. So about the view. Behind them you can see Lake Tahoe.

Here are some cool facts about this glorious and freezing freshwater monstrosity.

It's located ACROSS California and Nevada. That means there's lake in California and there's also lake in Nevada. It's the largest alpine lake in North America, and alpine lake means a lake at high altitude, usually starting at 5000 feet above sea level. It's gorgeous, cold, and sparkly, and rumor has it that the visibility is a phenomenal 75 feet in some places. Speaking of feet, it also measures 1645 feet deep, making it the second deepest lake in America. The first deepest is Crater Lake in Oregon, at a whopping 1945 feet of drowning space.

It measures 22 miles across at its longest point (that's the distance from Long Beach to Catalina Island). Talk about a lengthy wake boarding ride. If you want to take a jog around the shoreline, get ready for a 72-mile trek.

If you're into the super long trek, and are one of those agro-hiker types, there's the 165 mile Tahoe Rim Trail, that spans the perimeter of the Lake, but up on the mountains and ridges. You can walk it, run it, bike it, or make a horse do it for you.

Speaking of animals, there are many forms of wildlife, for instance, my roommate:

Meet "Lucille".

I'm staying at my cousin's house, and she has a sweet little (not so much little) corn snake in the bedroom. Corn snakes, AKA red-rat snakes, are called "corn snakes" because of their corn-on-the-cob like pattern on their bellies -- and the fact that they hang out in corn fields. They're very sweet (comparatively speaking), and they're not likely to bite you -- they kill their prey by constriction (strangling them).

Anyway, I came home to find "Lucille" wanted to take a field trip. She had used her strangulation strength to push her cage open and take a trip across the room. I walked in the room and I was like, "Uh-oh... empty cage. Not good." I giggled when I thought of my roommate back at home, Jamie, who won't even talk about snakes. In fact, I emailed her a pic of Lucille in her cage, and she wouldn't even open it. So while I played "Where's Waldo" in the bedroom, searching under bedspreads and pillows, I was imagining J and how much she would have FAH-reaked if she walked in on this. It took a while to spot her. Lucille would have won the crown at The National Hide-and-Go-Seek Tourney. I can't imagine trying to find her in a corn field -- the same exact color as a stalk of corn. Luckily she was hiding in a potted plant, wrapped firmly around the stiff green leaves. And what a strong girl! It took both my dad and me to peel her off of the plant. Here's me trying to settle down her whipping body. It felt like an arm-wrestling match. Check out the cool corn-on-the-cob belly -- even with little blue corn kernels mixed in.
The guy who lives downstairs told me that she was probably just hungry. She didn't eat the other day, and so he froze the field mouse for a hungrier time. Guess you can freeze live mice, and as long as you heat them up later, they're good as new. Mmm... anyone for microwaved mice?

Africa: Multi-tasking

2009-12-08T22:57:00.000-08:00

I had to take this picture because she is my hero. Sheesh, woman, I can't even stack tupperware correctly. She has mastered multi-tasking, whereas I can't even remember to blog if I have more than one errand to run. Today I darted out of the house and got all the way to my car TWICE... without my car keys.

No adventures to speak of, but I will try to post more Africa stories soon.

November is Gone!

2009-11-30T14:04:00.000-08:00

Strange to think that in one month, we will have crossed the decade mark into the 21st century.

The New York Times has released their "100 Notable Books of 2009". I probably haven't read any of them, considering I am constantly submerged in Teen Lit, but I thought you'd enjoy looking at the list. It's a bit daunting -- 100 is a lot to cover in a lifetime, much less in a year! -- but maybe you can treat yourself to one pre-Christmas present at Barnes & Nobles.

In other news, this weekend was a four day vacation for me. Wednesday was an early day, 30 minute classes, which gives me enough time to sit my students down and take roll. Instead, I taught them how to make lanyard bracelets. It was much more productive than any English assignment I would have attempted that day. In addition, they hopped up on my board and left me very touching messages. I've grown accustomed to them, but you might still get a kick out of their abrasive charm:

For The Love of Two Wheels

2009-11-12T12:03:00.000-08:00

The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets. ~Christopher Morley

I'm in the mood for a bike ride. I NEED a bike ride. I can't be sad, stressed, or annoyed while riding a bike. It's just impossible. It's one of those insta-fixes, the marriage of you pedaling and the wind responding. And it's just dang fun. I hardly see kids riding bikes through neighborhoods anymore. That's all I did as a kid. Maybe it's the neighborhood, or maybe it's video games -- who knows? All I know is I can't wait to soar on mine when I get home today. :) Here are some great bicycle quotes to inspire you to go out and ride!

The bicycle is a curious vehicle. Its passenger is its engine. ~John Howard

The bicycle is the most civilized conveyance known to man. Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. Only the bicycle remains pure in heart. ~Iris Murdoch, The Red and the Green

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race. ~H.G. Wells

Life is like riding a bicycle - in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving. ~Albert Einstein

While in New York, I came across this fellow. Anyone have a good caption for this one?

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WHY I DIDN'T BLOG LAST NIGHT

2009-11-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

As usual, we were having a very intellectually stimulating conversation about mature topics that people our age discuss:

She's a doctor, I swear.
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Not Me! Monday! - Navy Game

2009-11-09T00:00:00.000-08:00

Here's what I'm NOT doing this Monday: Going to Kabul.

My friend, Coogan, is in the Air Force and was just deployed to Afghanistan last week. There's something so much more real about the war when someone you know heads over there. You're like, "Wait. You're supposed to play rec soccer with me this Tuesday." Or, "Didn't you just get married? Why would they send you now?" Or more stupid things like, "You're too pretty to go to war."
Seriously, does she looks like she belongs in Kabul? But then, who does? I'm so proud of the men and women who fight for us, and because of Coogan, this has been on my mind a lot more lately. So with that said, it's very appropriate to take you back to our roommate trip to Annapolis.

One of the highlights of our trip to Annapolis was going to the Navy-Air Force Football game. Here is the football from the very first Navy-Army game in 1890 where The Midshipmen won 24-0. Check out the size and shape of these first footballs!

Nowadays the footballs look very different:Before the game, the Naval Academy marches together into the stadium while onlookers throw candy at them. I don't know why they have this candy-throwing tradition. Maybe it's because in the early 70's when everyone was anti-military, the people used to throw rocks at them. Maybe it's because they're not allowed to have such yummy treats at The Academy.

But apparently Annapolis doesn't have a lot of crime to complain about, as this "candy throwing" has become such a controversial issue, it was actually banned for a year in 2006. Here's the full article.

It's nice to be in a city where "littering" is ranked as the "top story" in the newspaper.

Since we're talking about candy, let's learn a Navy slang word: Geedunk.
Geedunk refers to a can of soda or a candy bar.

But when a midshipman serves for a specific period of time, he/she gets The National Defense Service Medal, and the Navy people have nicknamed it, "The Geedunk Medal".

I have NO idea how that relates to a Pepsi or Snickers.
But there ya go.
I took a picture of these boys, and then teared up because I referred to them as "boys". They really are little boys, aren't they? This reminds me of the time we did the "Mud Run" at Camp Pendleton, and those Marines looked like they should be riding bicycles and playing video games, not fighting and putting their lives at risk just so I can run through my entire life without fear, and be whatever the heck I want to be in this country. I freaking LOVE our military.
Favorite part of every pregame: The Flyover.

These boys make me so proud. Look at them so unified:
Here's a closer picture. In most stadiums, the home team's past bowl games or victories or past amazing players are displayed. Look at a closer picture of the stadium:
At this stadium, they display all the past battles.

As you enter the stadium, the dedication plaque reads:

"This Stadium is dedicated to those who have served and will serve as upholders of the traditions and renown of the Navy and Marine Corps of the United States. May it be a perpetual reminder that the Navy and Marine Corps are organizations of men trained to live nobly and serve courageously in peace, champions of our integrity; in war, defenders of our freedom."

We all bought tickets for the lawn. At this stadium, you can buy tickets for the hill behind the end zone. You lay a blanket down, and have a picnic. There's no net behind the goal posts, so you might catch a field goal!
The Navy won the game in OT 16-13. It was quite an exciting finish. Here's the weird part. The teams are rivals, but they really like each other. It was the most respectful ambiance I've ever experienced inside of a stadium. After the game, both teams run to each side and sing their anthem in total reverence. Here are two short clips edited together, so you can get a brief feel for the pride of these young men and women.

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Sunday Writing Blues

2009-11-08T13:15:00.000-08:00

"The real joy is in constructing a sentence. But I see myself as an actor first because writing is what you do when you are ready and acting is what you do when someone else is ready." - Steve Martin

Tomorrow I will write a very long post -- promise! But today, as I struggle writing this darn teen novel, I look to Steve Martin. Whenever I get stuck and want to throw everything into the garbage, I remember his words:

"I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper." - Steve Martin

Sometimes that quote helps. Other times, I re-read a page I wrote and say to it, "Hm. You would've been better off as a blank sheet of paper." And whenever I need a little encouragement, and my day feels dark and dreary, this one never fails to make me smile:

"A day without sunshine is like, you know, night."

Thanks, Steve. :) You speak the truth.

ANNAPOLIS REVISITED

2009-11-04T16:12:00.000-08:00

I'm glad I have a car. If I had to take the bus, I would probably miss it every day. I am not what you call "prompt", but I will ALWAYS show up if I say I will.

Eventually.

I've never once been late to work. But I also pretend in my head that work starts at 7 AM.

And I do get things done, but I've got my own clock ticking inside me that sometimes ticks to its own rhythm. This is not to say I get everything done in life... or even most things. I am a great starter. Heck, I'm a fantastic starter. If there was a competition for the first few hours of any project, I would beat anybody, anytime. I'd have a better campaign than Obama... for the first few hours. I LOVE ideas. I even like getting everything going to start those ideas. Here's my achilles: Then I get bored. And on I go...

Poor Dad. I remember in ninth grade, I was failing French class, so I came up with this grand idea. I COULD NOT WAIT! I decided for my French project, I was going to build the Eiffel Tower to scale using only toothpicks and a glue gun. The night before it was due.

I think I got about 20 toothpicks glued before I passed out on the kitchen table. I awoke at 3 AM to my dad putting the final touches on my masterpiece... uh, HIS masterpiece. Yep, Dad passed my French class for me.

So I like starting things. Love recording events, taking pictures, jotting down funny conversations. I think a lot about blogging. I like to think about it. Plan it. Start it.

Needless to say, life often keeps going before I actually sit my butt down to blog about it. Then the new event swallows up the old one, and on and on...

So let's head back to Annapolis...
Yeah, remember that trip?

I left out a couple of ridiculous moments. Vanessa, my doctor roommate, has some hilarious quirks. She's really unattached to money. Like, when she has a bad day, she will insist on buying all the roommates something expensive, or taking us all out to dinner. It makes her feel better to spend money. Also, she's funny about things that aren't "tidy". For instance, she doesn't like the bread at the store with all the seeds and grains on top. She won't eat it because she says it's too "busy". She doesn't like Mexican food (even though she's Mexican) because it looks too sloppy on a plate. When she gets stressed out, it relaxes her to clean.

She also doesn't like loose change. And by this, I don't mean quarters. I mean dollars. One dollar bills and five dollar bills. She thinks they're "messy". So at the end of every day, if she finds any loose $1 or $5 bills in her purse or backpack, she'll dump them into the same drawer in her room. At the end of every month, she takes all the bills in the drawer and (without counting them), stacks them and stuffs them in an envelope. Then she labels the envelope with whatever month it is.

Meg's family is from Anapolis, so we stayed with them, and on the first night, Vanessa whipped out twelve envelopes. She had brought all twelve envelopes in her carry-on to Maryland for our roommate trip! And she insisted that we spend the money while we were there. First item on our Maryland agenda: Count up the money. We all grabbed some envelopes and started tallying.

Grand total of money at the bottom of V's purse every month for a year: $683.

So here's where we went:

This is Cantler's, the "waterfront restaurant and crab house [that] has been serving the area's freshest seafood to watermen, boaters, and land lovers alike for 3 decades." Megan said that while we were here, we needed to experience eating crabs "the real way."

All of us were game. We're athletic. We're risk-takers.

Yeah, we had NO idea...

See, when I hear "crabs", I think of my hometown Vegas, and the $19.99 Alaskan Crab Leg Special, where you get the little mallet and the little silver plyer thing and you pry them open. Even when Megan said, "Okay, you guys, but it's kinda gross. You have to use a mallet," I was thinking, "I've got this. No biggie." It was definitely cool, but it was intense. If you've never done it, you must put it on your bucket list. Here we are in the beginning. Everything's clean and tidy.
We're psyched. Vanessa's got her game face on.
Here are the mallets. Okay, a little bigger than we expected.
Here's Jamie practicing her "tap, tap, tap" on the crab shell.
And here is the bucket that you put the crab shells in.

After reading the instructions, we started to lift some eyebrows. Wait... what does it mean, "Scrape away the gills"? Gills?
I do have to hand it to our roommates: they were troopers. Ms. Clean-Freak-Vanessa and Ms. I-Can't-Deal-With-The-Sight-Of-Blood Jamie dug right in there and cracked and peeled away. A few times, they both had to stop and take deep breaths, but they kept at it. After a while, Jamie decided it was too much work for too little reward, and she resorted to hush puppies and corn. But overall, it was a grand adventure! Here's a before and after shot:

The Plate BEFORE:

The plate AFTER:
Pictures don't do it justice, so I asked Meg to demonstrate how to correctly "Crab Pick":

And yes, at the end of the meal, we paid for the meal in 102 one-dollar-bills... plus tip.

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WHY CLASS IS KICKING MY BUTT

2009-11-03T17:51:00.000-08:00

Here is one of many conversations I had in my school day.
Disclaimer 1: My 1st and 2nd period classes are AWESOME. They work their tails off. But then... I have 3rd, 4th, and 5th...
Disclaimer 2: For those of you that don't know me, and can't imagine the tone of my voice, just know I adore these kids, and there is a great deal of love behind all my sarcasm. That being said, they still drive me nuts.

(Background noise: 10 conversations across the room)

ME: Ciara, stop texting. Put your phone away.
CIARA: Okay, hold on, let me just finish this text.
ME: No, really. Right now. Come on, I don't want to pay taxes to take care of your future children.
CIARA: Wait, I don't get it.
ME: Exactly. Come on, class. You have 10 sentences to write.
AT LEAST TEN STUDENTS: Ms. B, that's too many!
ME: It's been 40 minutes!
FIVE STUDENTS WHO STILL ARE that CLUELESS: I know! That's not enough time!
ME: You just need to finish five before the bell.
DANA: (to another kid) Boy, don't tell me to %^$-ing, I'll kick your Mother-F&^%
ME: Deep breaths, Dana, sit down.
RANDOM STUDENT WHO I DIDN'T GIVE THE PLEASURE OF A RESPONSE: Ms. B, do you have paper? I don't feel like looking in my binder for mine.
ME: And Keshawn, you need to sit down. Stop hitting people.
KESHAWN: Why do you get to walk around?
ME: Because I have my diploma.
JOQUANA: OOOOOOOOOOOH!
ME: Really, Joquana? Come on, sweetie, was that necessary?
JOQUANA: Yes, actually it was.
ME: Give me one reason why.
JOQUANA: Because if I don't say "OOOOOOOOOOH!" at least three times a day, I feel retarded.
ME: Hm. I don't even know what to say to that.

"Izzy" and your tax dollars at work

2009-11-02T15:57:00.000-08:00

Hi, faithful blog readers, all five of you! :) I know, I know, it's been a dark month in the blogging world. Teaching is honestly kicking my pants to the curb daily, but I'm thankful to have a job and a paycheck, so I can't complain... (though I'd love to!)

The back story of today's post:

Our neighborhood is walking distance from the beach and all the coolest bars and restaurants one could ask for.

It's also walking distance from every type and color of cat you can muster. Yep, my roomies and I have cats. Way too many. Not our cats either. Just the fun feral ones that like to breed in our cul-de-sac and hide in our engines. The ones that like to dig up our garden and use it for a litter box.

So you can feel our bemusement when we received the following VERY specific flyer in our mailbox:

That's ALL the flyer said. We hung it on our refrigerator weeks ago, because, well, when you receive such xeroxed brilliance, it needs to be displayed. It just does.

Lately, our whole household has been pretty stressed. This usually leads to streams of drunk emails throughout our workdays.

My roommates are all very amazing and quite different in their career paths. We've got a doctor who works at the jail with the crazy women, a HR/marketer/everything else girl in the fashion industry for Carol Anderson, and a mechanical engineer who designs satellites. And then me, the bad version of Hillary Swank NOT inspiring teenagers. So to alleviate the panic that consumes us on some days, we email very profound intellectual letters.

Here is the thought-provoking transcripts of October 19th, 2009:
__________________________________________________________

On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 12:08 PM, M wrote:

hey..i ordered a agenda book/calendar, that shows it was delivered on friday, but i never saw it.

Did anyone see that by any chance, or know where it is? shipped ups from Office Depot.

thanks

Megan

__________________________________________________________

From: V

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: October 19, 2009 12:30:05 PM PDT

Don't remember a package, did you check your box?

__________________________________________________________

From: H

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 1:00 PM

I'll keep an eye out. There was something delivered -- I remember seeing something last week at our front door step, but that is all. I'll look in my crazy full box. Maybe somebody slipped it in there.

Love you all

__________________________________________________________

From: J

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 2:00 PM

I haven't seen it, but maybe one of the neighborhood cats stole it as punishment for trying to kick them...

__________________________________________________________

From: V

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 2:09 PM

Now that you mention the cats, I did see a cat making some appointments.

__________________________________________________________

From: M

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 2:12 PM

haha I just laughed out loud!!! Do you think the cats and kaleb work together?

Hey, H - Yeah, on sat. there was a package but that was something else.

I'll have to look when i get home.

Perhaps the cat got

__________________________________________________________

On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 2:13 PM, H wrote:

Oh, sweet Jesus, did the cat get you too?

__________________________________________________________

From: M

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 2:30 PM

the line was supposed to say:

"Perhaps the cat got sidetracked on the way to digging up our gardens"

__________________________________________________________

On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 3:09 PM, V wrote:

You think you are so funny and clever. Well the joke is on you, yeah I took your book. What are you going to do about it? Let me pull out my agenda book for sec, ah yes there it is. "October 17th--Stole an agenda book." That's right bitch, come and get it. BOOM

-Izzy

AKA La Killa

AKA Hello Kitty

__________________________________________________________

From: J

Subject: Re: agenda book

Date: Oct 19, 2009 3:20 PM

This could be a story for the National Enquirer!! Cat that steals mail and digs up gardens, spotted in quaint Hermosa Beach neighborhood. We could host "sighting" parties and sell tickets! It could be the next Big Foot!

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On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 3:39 PM, H wrote:

Sidenote, completely unrelated to cats:

Doing research for my novel, and J, you're prob. the best to ask on this.

What are the top clubs in L.A./Hollywood where celebrities go? Like the biggest celebrity hangouts?

__________________________________________________________

On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 3:48 PM, V wrote:

Heather, Let me pull out my agenda book.

Oct 20--Happy Hour at "The Kitty Korner"

Oct 21--Happy Hour at "Cat's Meow"

Oct 31 Halloween Extravaganza at "Cat's Cradle Bar and Spa"

Nov 11--Wet T-Shirt Contest at "Kitty Litter"

Nov 15--Clam back at "Fur Ball"

Hope that helps, sorry about my rude language earlier,

-Izzy

__________________________________________________________

On Mon, Oct 19, 2009 at 3:54 PM, J wrote:

Well Izzy definitely has some hot spots covered...but.

The number one hot spot for celebrities is the bar at the Chateau

Marmont. Other than that, it's pretty much whatever the newest clubs

that have opened recently. A couple off the top of my head are MI6,

Winston's, Green Door, Area, Opera. If you need me to come up with

more or something more specific, I can. Okay, back to work...

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

2009-10-01T19:25:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Annapolis! This town looks like Main Street in Disneyland.

I am a West Coast girl, where most structures didn’t exist when my parents were kids. But on the opposite side of the country, in the states where our country began, every building is filled with brick and history.

Today we took a tour of the Naval Academy, the most entertaining nine dollars I’ve ever spent. Here are some ridiculous facts about this beautiful place that invented my favorite color.

If you're a high school senior, you can't just apply to the school. You must have a congressional recommendation letter. The school last year accepted 1200 out of the 15,000 top-of-the-class applicants. Five to eight percent drop out during "Plebe Summer", the summer before freshman year.

Here is a fellow you may know and love: David Robinson. He just retired recently from the San Antonio Spurs.

But here's the deal. The Navy doesn't accept people over 6'6". You tend to bump your head on the little planes and have a recurring concussion. But for David Robinson, they made an exception.

He was an am-MAYYYY-zing athlete, and basketball wasn't even his best sport. Because he was only 5'9" in jr. high, he never played. Instead, he played all other sports and excelled in math and piano. But he just kept growing, until finally, at 6'7" his senior year of high school, he joined the basketball team, and literally towered over the competition.

The Naval Academy knew they had to have him, and so they bent the rule one inch. What's an inch? The funny thing is, when he graduated from the Academy, they measured him again, and he had GROWN EVEN MORE! He now stood at 7'1"!!! Sorry, I abhor multiple exclamation marks, but that height deserves three. Seven foot, one inch!!! Because of that, he was NOT required to complete the five years of active duty. He still worked as a recruiting rock star for the school.

Next slide, please.

Why is the Naval Academy’s mascot a goat? I mean, really? Our nation’s college football teams have some of the fiercest mascots: Cougars, Bears, Panthers, and this school, the school with the men and women who go out and risk their lives for our country… is represented by a billy goat?

Here’s the story: when The Navy played their first Army/Navy football game in 1890 at West Point, the army showed up with a mule. Not to be outdone, the Navy went to a local farm and picked out a goat.

But does the goat have any tie to the Navy?

Actually, yes. Back in the early days, these ships had no refrigeration, and with the tossing and turning of the sea, cows would fall over, but goats, God bless ‘em, hung in there. So goats kept the Navy men alive and well fed during those rough and tough war times.

Not Me! Monday

2009-09-28T17:20:00.001-07:00

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

So today it is a Jewish holiday (which is very important to my Hispanic and African American students), so I am in my classroom working (without students), and not experiencing the laughter of Last Friday...

Last Friday in my 10th grade struggling readers class, we read an excerpt about early silent movies.

STUDENT: Why was there a piano player at the movies?
ME: Well, the movies in the early 1900's didn't have any sound, so instead a piano player would play live music.
STUDENT: So nobody would talk?
ME: The movies didn't have sound.
STUDENT: Man, they was poor as fuck back then.
ME: You mean, they WERE poor as fuck. And actually, it just hadn't been invented yet. The first "talking" picture was in 1927. It was called THE JAZZ SINGER.
STUDENT: Why does it say they'd go to the theaters for air conditioning?
ME: Because they didn't have air conditioning in their houses yet.
STUDENT: Man, there was nothing invented then, huh. They were so dumb.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So this week is crazy (not to downplay any of your weeks), and I will definitely try to write in the next day or two, but in the meantime, here is the audio version of what I shared about my trip to Africa this summer. It is about 10-12 minutes long, I think, so just listen to 3 minutes at a time.

Click on this:
THE AUDIO RECAP OF UGANDA
Here is the outline so you don't jump into an audio piece you'd rather not delve into:

Part I: Quick recap of all that we did in Uganda.
Part II: What I learned from Uganda
a. Sitting with people in their suffering.
b. Being "in the moment" without neglecting the past or the future.
c. Not letting your faith become a refrigerator magnet.

Back in School

2009-09-21T17:28:00.000-07:00

Oh, what a glorious weekend in New York City with the roommates. Too tired to post about it now, but soon...

In the meantime, USC had a rough loss, but the loss was numbed a little by all the beer pong at the USC Alumni bar in New York City. So I still love Coach Pete Carroll with all my heart and appendages, and here is one of the many reasons why:

THE 10 MINUTE VIDEO ON WHY I LOVE PETE CARROLL

In other news...

While in New York, I met up with my literary agent, Michael, for drinks, and he gave me a ton of books. It was like Christmas. Half of them hadn't even been released yet. I was like a kid in a candy store.

So I'm back at school today teaching, and I have good news and bad news.

Good news: my AVID students borrowed every book my literary agent gave me (Apparently, this group of 10th graders LOVES to read and that makes my heart happy)
Bad news: my regular 10th grade English classes BOMBED their quizzes today. And I mean bomb as in bomb-dot-com. They royally bombed them. Hiroshima bombed.

But I received some great dialogue from My'Jina (pronounced Mah-zha-nay) the "Zha" as in "Zha-Zha Gabor"

MY'JINA: Why are you giving us this quiz?
ME: Because I told you I was going to.
MY'JINA: How do you expect us to know this?
ME: I don't know... study?
MY'JINA: I don't study. You're dumb for giving us this quiz.

Ridiculous Signs

2009-09-15T20:41:00.000-07:00

While we were in Cedar City this August, my mom pointed out this sign to me. "Really?" she said. "If that was your family business, you wouldn't at least think about changing your name?"

It does kind of sound like you drive a hearse and swindle grieving people...

Ridiculous Tennis!

2009-09-14T19:30:00.000-07:00

So if you have the time to watch these videos, please do! At least watch the press conference in its entirety. That is priceless.

In the wide world of professional sports, there are many words exchanged between football players and refs, and baseball players and umpires... but tennis players and line judges?!!

Oh, Serena, you make me want to watch tennis every week.

This is the best in tennis that I've seen in quite some time. I was loving every moment.

If you missed that awesome quote, that would be Serena saying, "If I could, I would F*&!-ing take this ball and shove it down your F*&#-ing throat!"

I was on the floor laughing. And sure enough, the little tiny Asian woman scurried her scared little body up to the middle and said she felt threatened. Here's the footage of that:

But here's the best part. At the press conference afterwards, Serena was drilled for 7 minutes, and here are some of my favorite lines:
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Interviewer: What did you say?
Serena: What did I say? What, you didn't hear?
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Interviewer: Apparently she felt threatened
Serena: (incredulous) Who? She said she felt threatened?
Interviewer: Did you feel like you said anything that---
Serena: You heard her? She said this to you?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Serena: Well I've never been in a fight in my entire life, so I don't know why she'd feel threatened.
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Interviewer: To what extent did the weather contribute to you losing your temper?
Serena: Whaaaat? That's like the craziest question I've ever heard.

Africa: Education

2009-09-12T15:56:00.000-07:00

Oh, my lovely high school is so disorganized. My poor students were given their program cards on the first day, and half of them had classes just MISSING from their schedules. Missing. About 1500 students hung out in the auditorium for the entire week trying to figure out which class they should have. Some students were accidentally scheduled in an empty classroom without a teacher. Most of them gave up after a day or two and just wandered the halls, only to be yelled at by the security guards, "Go to class!" Uhhhh, they'd love to, but...

Gotta love the awesome example of professionalism and organization that we set for our students.

Soooo...

After a particularly frustrating first week at school, I thought I'd give myself a little perspective and take me back to the schools in Africa.

This sign was on the school grounds. And it remains untagged.

We approached the school right at dismissal.
Most of the children walk about two miles to get home, but that day, they stayed with us for an hour just to play and goof off.

All the public schools require uniforms for attendance. If you're not in your uniform, you're not allowed to attend. Uniforms can cost parents more than a month's wages. Although girls attend primary, very few girls attend secondary.
The government pays for 40% of public school; therefore, the child's family must pay for the other 60%.
It costs $20/term, which equals $60/year.
Teachers make approximately $125/month.

Here is the library. Who needs chairs?

Here is one of the classrooms. There are approximately 100 students per classroom.
And no air conditioning, I might add!
Here is a girl holding her home-made backpack.
There is only one textbook per classroom, and it never leaves the classroom. Instead, students create their own textbooks on stapled-together composition books. Since they can't take the textbook home, they COPY everything: examples, directions, and homework problems.

Here is a boy (in the middle) holding his homemade textbook.

Here is a close-up of a stack of students' textbooks.

For them, education is everything. Since they have so many chores to do, they wake up every day at 4:30 AM to study for two hours. At the end of primary school, they take a VERY difficult test covering all subjects. If they do not pass it, they are not allowed to attend secondary. Instead, they must repeat. But let's say their test says that they are at P4 (primary 4th year) level. Instead of repeating P6, they go back to P4.

Unfortunately, there is some hidden discrimination against the poor. Although the national language is English, the government recently passed a law that requires teachers to teach primary school in the native tongue of that particular village. Therefore, students in richer communities like Kampala (where English is spoken) will have six years of a language advantage compared with those in the villages (who are taught in their local tongue). The poor stay poor, and often remain in their villages, repeating the cycle.

Here are the students walking home with us. Instant friends! The girls keep their heads shaved to avoid lice, so often (especially when they're younger) the only way you can tell the difference between girls and boys is by the girls' dresses.

Absolute sweethearts.

Brooke made up a song to learn how to say "Okay" in Lugandan:

Why I Love My Roommates: Part 1 of 1,000,000

2009-09-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

This is me and my roommates.

Well, this is me and my roommates if our faces were superimposed to Gossip Girl characters. We have a weekly ritual of opening a bottle of red, watching Gossip Girl, and then sitting in our 70's conversation pit and discussing the characters as if they are real people in our lives. Oh yeah, our house has a carpeted square pit that's 4 feet by 4 feet. The only thing missing is a hookah. Sometimes when I'm home by myself, I walk over and sit in it and say, "What do you think about life, Heather? 'nam? The Androgynous hippie look? The 18 minute gap in the tapes?"

My roommates are fantastic, and we like creating ridiculous traditions, even if they only last a week.

One time who-knows-when-ago, one of the roommates was having a bad day, and Vanessa reached up in the air with gnarled hands and said, "Hang in there by your pawwws!" We were all like, "WHAAA?" And she said, "You know, like the poster of the cat in every dentist office. Doesn't it say something like 'Hang in there by your pawwws'?"

The poster (and we've all seen it) says nothing about paws; therefore, it quickly became the cheer-up phrase of our household.

Well, back in March or so, Vanessa came home singing, "Mama said there'd be days like this..."

Her grandma had died, and her mom and dad were scheduled to go to Hawaii the week of the funeral. Her mom asked Vanessa to deal with rescheduling the plane reservations. Needless to say, Hawaiian Airlines was not in the "accommodating" category that evening. The details are boring and I would lose readers the way Hawaiian Airlines loses complaining customers by leaving them on hold until they give up. V was on the phone for hours, and everyone sent her to a new person, and nobody helped. I rarely see Vanessa cry, and that day, I came home and big alligator tears were waterfalling down her face. Well, just like GG, the other three roommates rallied. We made the next day "Vanessa Day". Megan printed up this poster for her bedroom:
And of course she made a caption underneath that read, "Hang in there by your paws!"

She also hung this pic on the front door with a caption that read, "We're sorry you're down..."
She hung this one in the bathroom. These were just two guys that climbed in our picture one night when we were out. But for V's Day, it was magically signed by them. It read, "Feel Better Soon. Love, The Cholos".

On her bedroom door (and it's still there today), Meg hung a pic of Vanessa's favorite "friend" who moved to China. He had a bubble caption that said, "I wish V was here to ride my motorcycle with me."
I brought home flowers and helium balloons, and at night, to celebrate Vanessa's dark humor amidst serious topics, we each wrote messages to V's grandma and set the balloons free to "sail up to heaven".

The best was Jamie, who printed up a RUHHH-diculously large poster of a Hawaiian Airlines, and then cut out four little karate men. After a good bottle of wine, we all played our own version of pin the tail on the donkey: "Karate Kick the Crotch of the Hawaiian Airlines Airplane." If you think I'm making this stuff up, here's some embarrassing footage to prove it:

This is just one day in the life of living with the greatest three girls in the universe.
You know you love me! X-O-X-O,
Gossip Girl

What Happened?

2009-09-07T21:37:00.001-07:00

If you haven't noticed this yet, I am a little bit impulsive and unpredictable. At times, a great asset in life, but it does have its down side. Example: As quick as I start a blog, I suddenly stop writing for no good reason. None. Just felt like NOT writing. So I didn't.

Today I did. And I've got nothing ridiculous going on, except maybe my consistency with absolutely ANYTHING in life!

I apologize for the dry month of August when it comes to my writing. I had three weeks left of summer, and I spent them in the dark cave of Coffee Bean attempting to write a paranormal teen novel. Once again, no reason for that. Just thought I'd try. I'd never written a paranormal teen novel. Have you?

Nothing like dead people mixed with overly dramatic sixteen year old love triangles. Ahhh, teen lit. There's nothing like it.

Anyway, why couldn't I blog AND write a novel? Multi-tasking is not one of my talents, as my beautiful 2008 RAV4 will tell you. It will say, "Hey, I no longer have air conditioning. Ask Heather why. She'll mumble something about text messaging in traffic and riding up on the trailer hitch of a suburban."
Usually the order of events in a fender-bender goes:
1. Look up
2. "Oh crap, I'm too close!"
3. Slam on brakes.
4. Hit car in front of you.

My order went:
1. Hit car in front of you.
2. Look up.
3. Slam on brakes.
4. "Oh crap, this is funny"

Who looks up AFTER they hit a car? The irony is that I am a no-texting-while-driving-Nazi. That day, I was bored. I felt like texting. So I did.

How did we get from teenage ghosts to my sweaty car?

And whatever happened to Africa?
I feel like I still have much to tell you about what went on while I was there, but gosh, how life continues.

Here's a great pic to remind you and me that Africa still has more in store for you
To think I was there a month ago, and this past weekend all I thought about was college football. USC's opening game was against San Jose State.

Useless Bar Trivia: Matt Barkley is the first true freshman to be named starting QB for USC.
Useless "Ridiculous Girl" Trivia: I heart Coach Pete Carroll.

First day of school is tomorrow, and so of course, I'm writing to all of you instead of planning curriculum.

Here's a preview of some upcoming adventures:

September:

New York City Roommate Weekend!
Anything for a memory: "The Four Strands" (aka- the roommates) have signed up for the Gossip Girl 3 1/2 hour tour. It will most likely be the four of us on a bus with 50 thirteen-year-old girls. We are bringing alcohol.

October:

Maryland Roommate Weekend!
Navy/Airforce Football game in Anapolis, Maryland. Hooray for Men in Uniform!

Vanessa/Heather Chicago Trip!
Notre Dame/USC football game at Notre Dame.

Oh, the stories to come...

Shakespeare Festival, Part 2

2009-08-14T09:10:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Cedar Breaks, Utah:
Isn't this amazing? I did not use PhotoShop with this picture, nor would I know how to if I tried. That's on my list of things to learn right next to a few others:
1. Learn how to organize my life.
2. Learn how to use PhotoShop.
3. Learn how to speak Spanish (because not everything in Mexico happens in the present tense).

Unfortunately, I never get past #1 on that list, so it's been slow going on the "learning new things" game.
Doesn't this look like one of those fake backgrounds at Universal Studios that you stand in front of? And on the right just off screen is the new "Will Ferrell in 3-D ride".

My favorite memory of Universal Studios was when we took a sweet true-to-her-blond 15-year-old Meagan Bishop on the Backstage Tours ride (very similar to Disneyland's Jungle Cruise in terms of jokes), and our sure to be the next A-list actor but currently a tour guide said on the microphone, "And to the left is the Flinstones car used in the movie...and next to it you will see Wonder Woman's Invisible Jet." Meagan searched for at least two minutes for that jet. We didn't have the heart to tell her....

Back to The Festival.

So when you're seeing two three-hour plays a day, and you only have a limited amount of time to hammer through your hike, some things have to be sacrificed... like changing into hiking attire.
If you get the chance to travel through Utah, you should really drive the 20 miles off of the I-15 Freeway to check it out. The "Whoa" factor is high.

When you take the road back into town, you might be thinking, "Wow, I'd love a cold one." And then you might get excited because just at the base of the mountain road, you find a pub!

Pastries AND beer! The best of both worlds, you think! I've entered Utah Heaven!
Then you see the cool Irish decorations,

and the Irish blessings,

and you just know the Irish know their beer!
Your mouth is watering, you're envisioning the foam mustache, and then you see...
The pub uniform.
WHAAAAA?
Dry Pub? Dry? What is this oxymoron depriving me of my Newcastle?

I mean who has THIS on the wall of their restaurant...
without actually providing the stuff that comes in it?

Oh, Utah. You Mormons are a funny folk. The Pastry Pub actually has some great sandwiches, free internet, and according to Trip Advisor, is even ranked #1 out of 27 restaurants in Cedar City... but I highly suggest implanting an expectation of lunch and not libation.

If you are a Shakespeare enthusiast, you really should check this city out. They venerate Mr. William here, even down to their bed and breakfasts. Smack dab in the middle of a cute little Utah neighborhood, there is an eleven-room adorable "house hotel".
You can walk outside the Bard's Inn, "puck"-er up, and blow a kiss next door to this B&B:

I think I'd stay here just to say I was guarded by knights:

Maybe it's the "magic" of The Festival, but you never know who you'll run into!
You may run into your priest from high school:

And you may have this very spiritually uplifting conversation:
PRIEST: Where do you live now?
YOU: L.A. (play the pretend game)
PRIEST: Oh yeah? I have a friend who has a house down in Hermosa.
YOU: Hey, I live in Hermosa!
PRIEST: I was his confirmation sponsor. He went to Clark High School.
YOU: Hey, I went to Clark High School!
PRIEST: You may have heard of him... Jimmy Kimmel?
YOU: WHAAAA?

You will wonder if you feel strange inside because:
A. Your priest is showing you a ring that Jimmy Kimmel gave him.
B. Jimmy Kimmel went to your high school.
or C. You're discussing late night television with a priest you haven't seen in more than a decade.

I don't have many conversations with priests nowadays, so what better topic to delve into than comparing and contrasting the humor of Conan, Stewart, Letterman, and Kimmel?!

Gotta love the magic of The Festival!

Photos of others, blogs by others, and quotes by others

2009-08-13T08:48:00.000-07:00

That's my niece, making a "seal" face

...and remember when waves were THIS big??

Since I've been talking about the Shakespeare Festival, I thought I'd put a link to a friend's blog, who wrote a really fun article about Shakespeare.

No time to write today, but I will leave you with this quote my roommate shared with me. I won't even give any commentary, because sometimes quotes marinate better with you as the only commentator.

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer." - A. Camus

Shakespeare Summaries: As You Like It

2009-08-12T10:12:00.001-07:00

As you know, I attended The Shakespeare Festival last week. There, I saw six plays, and today, I will recap one of them for you: As You Like It.

This was not my favorite play, but you gotta love it when you see a girl dressing up as a guy in one of William's plays. Why? Because all plays back then were acted by guys. So it was really a guy dressing up as a girl dressing up as a guy. Which is all kinds of confusing, but so funny to me even if the play wasn't, which it was, so don't worry.

Here is the quick summary of As You Like It. I am no scholar; I am merely good at dumbing things down, which is a talent I wish my high school Calculus teacher had.

AS YOU LIKE IT... by Master William Shakespeare

You’ve got this evil Duke Fredrick (booooo) who has stolen his brother’s throne, Duke Senior (yeahhhh). Duke Senior (yeahhh) takes off to the Forest of Ardenne, strangely similar to Robinhood’s Sherwood Forest (cue Bryan Adam’s song), and lives quite happily with his buddies… all things considered.

CUT TO:

You’ve got this Sir Rowland who dies, and he instructs his eldest son Oliver to take care of the younger son Orlando. BUT…Dun! Dun! Dun! The evil older brother Oliver (boooooo) does NOT take care of the sweet gentlemanly younger brother Orlando (yeahhhh). Orlando (yeahhhh) is deprived of an education… yet still is somehow wise beyond his years.
Of course he is.

Duke Fredrick (booooo) lets Duke Senior’s (yeahhhh) daughter Rosalind (woo-woo) stay with him because Rosalind (woo-woo) is super tight with his own daughter, Celia (awww).

Meanwhile, Orlando (yeahhh) has a moment of “Wait a seccccc… I don’t deserve this!” and fights with his brother Oliver (booooo) demanding a normal life (can you blame him?). Oliver (booooo) agrees only because he is a wimp at fighting.

Enter WWF wrestler Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!) who secretly tells Oliver (booooo) that he’s heard rumors (from who? Maybe William himself spread the rumor) that Orlando (yeahhh) wants to enter a wrestling match and fight Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!). Charles has this “Muhammad Ali Reputation” (can’t lose even if he tries), but he’s afraid that the courts will be pissed at him if he beats a nobleman (aka Orlando – yeahhh). Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!) comes to Oliver (boooo) to say, “Hey, man, help your little brother out. He’s gonna get demolished if he fights me.” Oliver (booooo) convinces Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!) that Orlando (yeahhh) is so wicked, he might try to poison Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!). Charles (Body-blow! Body-blow!) says, “Fine. I’ll teach that boy a lesson.”

Rosalind (woo-woo) and Celia (awwww) are conveniently at the wrestling match. Orlando (yeahhh) surprises all and kicks Charles’s (Body-blow! Body-blow!) butt. And of course, Rosalind (woo-woo) and Orlando (yeahhh) fall madly in love but do not tell each other (shhh).

When Orlando (yeahhh) gets home, his servant Adam (Narc!) tells Orlando (yeahhh) that Oliver (booooo) wants him dead. Orlando (yeahhh), to protect his life, flees to the Forest of Ardenne (cue Bryan Adam’s song). There, he finds Duke Senior (yeahhh), and joins his buddies.

Back to Duke Fredrick (booooo) who in a serious PMS moment, blows up and banishes his niece Rosalind (woo-woo). Where did his outrage come from? NOWHERE! He just freaks out. It helps the story move along quite nicely. Good job, William. Celia (awww), in undying loyalty to her best friend, goes secretly with Rosalind (woo-woo), and the two girls take off into the, you guessed it, Forest of Ardenne (cue Bryan Adam’s song). They also take the court jester Touchstone with them (some crude guy to satisfy the beer drinking athlete boyfriends who get taken to these plays by their chick-flick obsessed girlfriends). To ensure their safety, Rosalind (woo-woo) dresses up as a boy "Ganymede". Celia (awww) takes the disguise of a shepherdess (I have no idea why). But she wants to play dress-up too, so she calls herself "Aliena".

Now we get the side characters who were probably friends of Shakespeare… (oh, you need a job? Times are tough? Here, let me just throw a couple of random characters in the middle of the forest. You’re hired!)

There’s the sniveling sorry excuse for a man Sylvius (boo-hoo) who desperately loves the stuck-up Phoebe (Talk to the hand). The more Sylvius (boo-hoo) pines and whines over and dines Phoebe (Talk to the hand), the more disgusted she is at his girly-ness.

Rosalind/Ganymede (woo-woo) desperately tries to have a man-to-man talk with Sylvius (boo-hoo) and attempts to give Sylvius (boo-hoo) manly tips to show Sylvius (boo-hoo) that no girl wants a sap. Unfortunately, Phoebe’s (Talk to the hand) idea of a manly man is none other than Ganymede (AKA Rosalind). The more Rosalind/Ganymede (woo-woo) tries to resist Phoebe (Talk to the hand), the more Phoebe likes Rosalind/Ganymede. We all love a challenge, don’t we, girls?

Then lovesick Orlando (yeahhh) starts writing poetry to Rosalind (woo-woo) and hanging the poetry from trees. Rosalind (woo-woo) finds the poetry, and of course, finds Orlando (yeahhh). Dressed as a man, Rosalind/Ganymede (woo-woo) agrees to tutor Orlando (yeahhh) since he has had no schooling on how to be a gentleman or how to be with the ladies. Rosalind/Ganymede (woo-woo) with the assistance of her best friend Celia (awww) convinces Orlando (yeahhh) to pretend that she is Rosalind (woo-woo)… which she is, but he doesn’t know that. Unbeknownst to him, he practices all his lines and his moves on the actual girl.

BUT WAIT! Dun! Dun! Dun! Duke Fredrick (booooo) is enraged when he finds out his daughter Celia (awwww) left with Rosalind (yeahhhh), and since Rosalind (woo-woo) left at the same time as Orlando (yeahhhh), he smells a rat. There is no rat, but he makes Oliver (booooo) lead the manhunt, claiming that if Oliver (booooo) doesn’t find his brother Orlando (yeahhh), then Duke Fredrick (booooo) will steal all of Oliver’s (booooo) property. And while he’s at it, Duke Fredrick (boooooo) decides, “Hey, if we’re heading to the forest, it’s high time I destroy my brother Duke Senior (yeahhhh) once and for all.” So Duke Fredrick starts up an army (Be all that you can be.)

Then one day, Orlando (yeahhh) doesn’t show up for his tutorial, and Rosalind/Ganymede (woo-woo), devastated, thinks he is standing her up. Then Oliver (booooo) shows up and tells the story about how Orlando (yeahhh) stumbled upon Oliver (booooo) in the forest and saved him from an angry lion! Nothing like saving your enemy from a lion to get forgiveness. All is well, and oh my gosh, say it isn’t so, Oliver takes one look at Celia/Aliena and the two fall madly in love.

Phoebe (Talk to the hand) is still nutso-gutso in love with Ganymede (AKA Rosalind) so Rosalind (woo-woo) decides to end this craziness, and she plans a wedding. She tells Phoebe she will marry her, if she “ever were to marry a woman”, but she makes Phoebe promise that if Phoebe decides she DOESN’T want to marry Ganymede, then Phoebe MUST marry Sylvius. Phoebe, convinced that she would NEVER decide NOT to marry Ganymede, agrees to this promise. (Nice use of a double negative)

The day of the wedding comes. Everyone is there. Ganymede and Aliena disappear briefly and return as themselves, and Phoebe thinks, "OMG, I can’t marry a girl!" So she is caught in her promise, and agrees to marry Sylvius. Of course, Orlando (yeahhh) couldn’t be happier to see his tutor posing as “his love” was “his love” all along. So then the god of marriage, Hymen, shows up (whaaaa?). He presides over the wedding, which is kind of like a Sun Myung Moon Mass Ceremony: Orlando marries Rosalind, Oliver marries Celia, Sylvius marries Phoebe, and the jester Touchstone marries Audrey (some random simple sheep girl).

Oh, and on his way to kill his brother, Duke Fredrick (boooooo) has a change of heart and decides to enter the monastic life (whaaaa?). Hey, God changes people.

Everyone’s happy, and nobody dies. Just as you like it. Just as we all like it.

P.S. You all know the quote “All the world’s a stage…”, but did you know what play it came from? Yep, it comes from “As You Like It”. It’s recited by a guy who I never even mentioned in the summary: Jaques, some lord who hangs out with Duke Senior in the Forest. He gets a kick out of being melancholy, and it’s quite funny, because his obsession with being sad is juxtaposed with everybody else in the play who is quite happy with being happy. Here is the quote in its entirety.
_______________________________________________________________

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well saved a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. (2.7.139)

Shakespeare Festival, Part 1

2009-08-11T13:00:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a week visiting the parental units. I spent two days in Mesquite, Nevada with my mom and dad, and then drove up to Cedar City, Utah, with my mom to attend the Shakespeare Festival.

The parents are still together (40 years -- woohoo!) and here are four things I love about them:

1. My dad will read every teen novel I recommend. Notice his nightstand, and how all the books above his camping/fishing books are for the ages of 13-18:

2. My mom will show up to my pedicure appointment to remind me to drive slowly because the cops are out. The nail shop is located approximately one mile from their house. And I'm driving my dad's diesel powered pick-up truck, that goes from 0-60 in 3 minutes.

3. My dad will ask me, "When are you going to be home?" to which I will answer, "Probably in an hour. I just need to go write for a bit. I'll be back by noon."
Then he will call me at 11:48 to ask when I'm going to be home.
"Still the same time," I will answer.
"Sorry, but you weren't at the Starbucks when I went by."
"That Starbucks is closed."
"Well, I thought you might be lost."
"It's a town of 30,000 people, Dad!"
"You're still my little girl."

Seriously, the best dad ever.

4. At The Shakespeare Festival, my mom will actually sit on Shakespeare's lap, and call him "her man" to all the senior citizens walking by.

Oh, and notice how Dad is in this picture.

This was taken at the lovely Garden House Restaurant in Cedar City, Utah. I highly recommend the fish.
It's an old house converted into a restaurant.
So why is Dad in this picture if he did not attend the Shakespeare Festival with my mom and me? Oh, that would be because when my mom and I arrived, I opened the trunk, and said, "Uh, Mom, where's my suitcase?" Apparently, when we were packing the car and Dad asked me, "Where is your suitcase?" and I responded, "In my room," that was not code for "I'll get your suitcase if you tell me where it is." HAH. You have to understand that when you have a dad as ridiculously helpful as mine, you often make assumptions based not on your spoiledness, but rather on his autopilot kindness. We had a good laugh, and I enjoyed a shopping spree in WalMart (gotta love the Miley Cyrus collection), but Dad ended up driving my suitcase the 88 miles (please refer to the prefatory sentence involving his autopilot kindness). So I treated him to dinner, and then he drove back those 88 miles.

Seriously, best dad ever.

While we're on the subject of restaurants in Cedar City, Utah, I have two other recommendations.

1. If you travel up U-14 (towards Brianhead Ski Resort) from Main Street for about 2 miles, you will come to Rusty's Ranch House.
They're known for their ribs, but I recommend the coconut shrimp. Solid beer selection on tap. They have a very peculiar ambiance, or should I say a very peculiar "audience".
No, Mr. Large Antlers. I don't mind you watching me as I eat... you.

It's funny how much you change throughout the years. When I walked in the restaurant, I looked up and said, "Hello, Mr. Deer. I might eat you tonight." But in 7th grade, I wrote this poem. Best accompanied with some slow Celtic instrumental from iTunes:
-------------------------------------
Hold still; blend in
Don't move, or you'll be seen.
For my eyes see far,
and my hearing is keen.

Did they see me?
Quick, I've got to run.
What do they want from me?
Do they have a gun?

I only have a second,
For I cannot be late.
I mustn't tempt
The deadly hand of fate.

Hush! Hush! I hear a clicking sound.
Is it of a camera, or of a gun?
Do they just want a picture of a deer?
Or my antlers as a souvenir?

They have a blinded my eyes forever.
The eyes that once were kind.
I never did hurt them, for I can still see
That THEY were the ones that were blind.
-------------------------------------
Geez. Debby-Downer Eleven-year-old! How is it that I found THAT locked away in my brain this morning, and yet I can't remember where I put my car keys last night?

So back to the restaurant and away from my pre-teen PETA obsession...

Everywhere you turn at Rusty's, there are those guilty eyes, saying, "Go ahead. Keep eating. No big deal. I will just hang out on this wall."
And then you see the Daddy goat/Momma polar bear breed that you hope didn't make it into the menu.
Like I said, coconut shrimp. You can't go wrong and the restaurant doesn't have any of them watching you.

2. If you continue up the road for another three miles (5 miles from Main Street), you will come to another cabin restaurant tucked away in the mountains: Milt's Stage Stop.

You do need to make a few preparations before you go:
1. Don't eat all day. Then you can actually consume the amount they serve. Great food. Great salad bar. Great wine. Great weight gain to ensue.

Wait, I guess that's only one preparation. Whatever. Everything sounds better in lists.
And if you do come across these people...
Don't take their picture unless you want them to thank you with a half bottle of wine:
And be prepared not to disappoint them even if you've already ordered your own glass.

So to recap, the three best restaurants of Cedar City, Utah:
1. Garden House
2. Rusty's Ranch House
3. Milt's Stage Stop

Where have you been? Did you fall off a bridge or something?

2009-08-06T08:42:00.001-07:00

Sorry I've gone dark for a week. It's been a whirlwind, but I didn't want to sit down and merely write diary entries, because who wants to read THAT kind of blog? Last Saturday, I was in the car at the butt-crack of dawn:
That's after being in the car an hour. It was my first coherent thought of the morning: "Maybe you should record this madness!" At that time I usually only think in fragments: Early. Damn. Contacts. Coffee. Why?

I love that one of the first pics I took is not of the beauty of nature, but of Native American Love. Do you think that some Cherokee woman was like, "I've got the best Christmas present for my boyfriend's truck."

She looks like I do in the morning. And what's distracting him up on the far left? What can I say? Love makes you do crazy things... like digging into a tree with a pocket knife.
I'm not knocking it. I don't know why, but there is something terribly romantic about combining your love with God's creation.
So here we are, and it is 6:30 AM and no, we are not hunting Edward. Different Forks.
Ahh... yeah for morning pics.
So apparently we weren't the only ones crazy enough to be up this early. Here's a whole grip of us hiking through one of the most beautiful hikes 40 minutes outside of L.A.
There was even a dog up this early:
Me: Hey, little guy! I feel your pain. Tell your mom to spike your kibble with Starbucks -- it does wonders for the grump-factor.

Here I am on a mission to avoid getting wet before 10 AM. Mornings + cold = Unhappy Girl

Notice the genuine smile comes out only with the sun.
But once again, enough "diary" pictures.
Here are the only two things I remember from 6th grade science camp.

This is sagebrush.

Take a bunch of it and roll it vigorously between your hands.

Then inhale.

Ahh... smells like a newly mopped kitchen floor.

Here's the fact I learned: Native Americans used to use sagebrush as deodorant. Not even kidding.

This is the lemonade berry bush. Actually I'm not sure what its name is, but this is what it looks like.

Here are the berries. They look like corn nuts, but don't chew them. That would be gross. Take a handful, and pop them in your mouth, and suck on them.
WHEW! SOUR! Second Fact from science camp: The Native Americans used to make lemonade from these berries.

Some kids remember the marine biology from CIMI science camp on Catalina Island. Invertebrates, algae, plankton, island ecology, I mean, you name it, they taught it. What did I retain? Indian lemonade and deodorant. Money well spent, parents.

This is a yucca plant.
I have no idea what it does, but doesn't it look like a Koosh Ball? Don't grab it like one. It's not the "kooshiest" in texture. But it kind of looks like a giant pinapple is buried underneath, doesn't it?
Okay, so why do I have a picture of a man lecturing us on the top of this bridge and placing his hands on his knees as if he's showing us how to prepare a jump off of the bridge. And what's that cord by his right foot? And what are these strange belts greeting us?

Ah, yes. What five mile hike to a bridge would be complete without an insane jump off of it?

Here's some cool facts about The Bridge to Nowhere. It was built in 1936, and there was a road heading all the way up here.

In 1938, a crazy flood came through and washed the entire road away. Here's what's left of the road:

They received 26 inches of rain in 24 hours. And good old engineering hung in there through it all. What was left? A bridge. Literally to nowhere. Bungee America is the only state-licensed Bungee Company (and they have a perfect safety record, I might add). They actually bought all the land around the bridge and are sanctioned as an amusement park. The Bungee off the Bridge to Nowhere is actually licensed as a roller coaster!

Let me tell you how hot these harnesses make you look! Watch out!

Here's Mark's beautiful dive:

Bungee Jumping brings out some strange things in you. Apparently, I am prone to violence:

This second jump, for some reason, was so much scarier than the first, because he assured me that if I followed his instructions of jumping backwards, I would come very close to hitting the bridge. And this was somehow a good thing! Watch how I disappear.

That's the part when you think you are going to do a Wile E. Coyote Splat against the underside of the bridge. But you don't. It's all an illusion. An illusion made out of stone that survived 26 inches of rain in 24 hours heading for my face at an alarmingly fast rate.

Suffice it to say, Los Angeles has some great secret spots, and this is definitely one of them. If you want a great day trip, I highly recommend it.

And besides, who knew California had these guys?

Yeah, that thing the size of a small horse with the two conch-shells sticking out of its head? That's a long-horn sheep. A LONG-HORN SHEEP! Or maybe it's called a big-horn sheep. Or a ram. Whatever. Can we just bask in the coolness of that for a minute? Forty minutes away from the smog and traffic that is L.A., you will find sheep the size of mules running up rock CLIFFS with hooves for feet (can we say "no traction"?) and bowling balls for heads and SOMEHOW THEY DON'T TIP OVER!

P.S. If someone can tell me the difference between a ram, a long-horn, and a big-horn, please comment below. You probably learned it at 6th grade science camp.

I'm up in Utah, and I'm on my way to see some plays. Yesterday, I saw two: Foxfire and As You Like It. I'd sit and blog more, but I've got two plays on the schedule today too, and I've gotta read up on my Sparknotes regarding Comedy of Errors. More about that later.

Africa: In the "Middle"

2009-07-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

The equator runs through only 10 countries in the world, and six of them are in Africa, so on the morning of our day with AidChild, we made one quick stop, and Abbey put her foot down.
Brooke just hung in the balance.

Paul was working on the PDA.

While on the equator, we stopped for some coffee and conversation at:

And here's the ridiculously cool thing about the equator:

Here we are a few feet NORTH of the equator. And wouldn't you know it? The water spins clockwise.

Here we are just a few feet away, but standing now SOUTH of the equator. Counter-clockwise. WHAAAT?

I never took physics in high school, because my school also offered Botany, and I heard you could get an "A" if you just bought two plants and kept them in the school green house. Here were my two options as an 11th grade irresponsible guy-a-holic: do a lot of mathematical equations and actually work at something... or... water your plants three times a week? Was there even a choice?

So, today, well beyond a decade after high school, I learned about something called the Coriolis Force. Better late than never for simple science skills!

And sure enough, directly on the equator, NO SPIN!

In case you're still like "WTF?" maybe this short YouTube video will help it make sense.

Cool, huh!

How was the surfing?

2009-07-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

This is my lip.

This is my surfboard.

This is my lip meeting my surfboard.

Any questions?

Grammar Goofiness: They're, there, their

2009-07-29T06:40:00.000-07:00

So I need to go surfing this morning, instead of spend way too much time sifting through more Africa pictures. They will come, I promise. Questions from the one person in Iran who reads this blog:

Do I surf?
Yes.

Do I surf well?
No.

Today will be especially interesting, since my head, who still thinks my body is 18, thought it would be fun at the soccer game last night to move in an 18 year old fashion and consequently, pull my groin muscle. Mmm... that felt good.

Surfing is one of those sports where you feel like you've accomplished a lot just by paddling around. I mean, who else is doing this at 6:30 AM? Not many takers in the amateur category. I do go out with the "big boys." I figure, if you're going to go out, go big and die well. But that's not saying a lot to them, considering that I still wear a 4:3 wetsuit even in the middle of summer DURING THE DAY. It's a bit of a giveaway to those surfing nearby. "Ohhhh... it's the girl wrapped in the fur blanket."

On the whole, as a not-so-great-surfer, I have the advantage being a girl. Those territorial boys are much more tolerable to giggly girls that steal their waves than they are towards boys in general.

But, as promised...

I hopped on a site randomly the other day: "Eternally Distracted", some new blogger follower of my blog. I actually enjoyed reading her post, and she brought up the issues with the words "their" and "there".

As many of you know, I teach high school English in the inner city, and I have to be creative if I'm going to ever compete with their cell phones and their overly dramatic-for-no-apparent-reason-but-just-because-I'm-in-high-school lives. Most of the time I just dork out, and that helps calm their annoyance. After all, if you are a teacher, it is important that you realize: YOU ARE MERELY AN INTERRUPTION IN THEIR DAY. You are not Hillary Swank or Michelle Pfeiffer. However, to keep myself entertained, I also write songs for all their grammar rules. They won't pick up a textbook, but they'll learn ANY song.

Anyway, here they are singing about the difference between "they're", "there", and "their". I've included the lyrics below so you can follow along, but I do not know how to program a bouncing ball. HTML makes me dizzy. Enjoy!

T.H.E.Y.' (apostrophe) R.E.
It's for "they are" only.

If it's a place you need to be,
Location's T.H.E.R.E.
I'm over there.
You're over where?
T.H.E.R.E. is where.

There is one,
Or there are three.
Both are T.H.E.R.E.

It belongs to them:
Their house, their car --
Possession's T.H.E.I.R.

Africa: Aid Child

2009-07-28T08:33:00.000-07:00

Most people, when they go to a foreign country, realize how great we have it here in America. This I did not need to learn. I have been in love with our country since I saw The Patriot years ago. I remember walking out of the movie theater saying, "I freaking LOVE America."

I also remember walking out of the movie theater saying, "I freaking LOVE Mel Gibson," but that's another blog entry entirely.

Most people have a hard time adjusting after being in a third world country. I was struck last night by the opposite, at how easily I assimilate back into the old way of things. Last night, I was severely annoyed at my poor ball skills at the soccer game. As if just last week, I wasn't holding a dying woman in my arms at the hospital. Sure, I never voice it, but in the pit of me, I must feel as if my poor ball playing skills actually matter in the grand scheme of things, because if they didn't, then why would I get so twisted up inside when I make a bad pass? Why would that flood my mind more than the memory of this face?

The truth is, I'm a pretty lousy human being, but there is such freedom in recognizing that.

I love books -- all books (This is going to relate, just go with me for a minute). When I was in 11th grade AP English (that's not saying much; I pulled a C- and cheated my way through the entire class). Anyway, the one thing I remember Mr. Kucan saying was, "If you read no other book in your life, read the bible. It's the most brilliant piece of literature out there." He was far from religious, so maybe that's why I remember it.

So I did, eventually, and he wasn't kidding. It's such a tight piece of work. Long as *%&!, but I also believe unless you're Ayn Rand, you've got pages to cut. I have a short attention span. Don't get me started on Stephanie Meyer. Point is: In the bible, all the elements of a brilliant literary work are present. Its main character is God, its conflict is sin, its theme is redemption; it has a kick-ass antagonist; it's grounded in geography, emerges from history, and in its final finished form, is a unified literary work. Brilliant.

Just like these smiles.

One of the repeated themes in the book is this idea of remembrance. "Remember," this God says over and over. "Remember, remember, remember." Set up memorials: pictures, stones, signs, monuments, whatever will help you remember. Tell your children and your children's children, and instruct them to tell their children. Bind it to your forehead (not making that up. It says it). Remind yourself out loud.

"Recall the ways I acted," is God's incessant repetition, "so you don't forget that I will continue to act."

Why does He hammer this into our heads like a scratched record of Bruce Springstein's "I'm Going Down"? Because we forget. We're forgetters. The hard core Christians love to remind us that we're sinners (Duh. Thanks, Captain Obvious), but I think the worse sin is that we're forgetters.

I'm definitely a forgetter.

I forget moments like this:

And this:

And that's how it relates. The bible example reminds me to remind myself in ANY way I can, so that making a bad pass in soccer does not dwarf the circumstances that exist and continue to exist outside of my immediate world.

So let me take you to a very special place we visited while in Africa, so you can help me remember all the great things that went on that day, and all the special lives that continue to love and be loved without my impact at all.

Aidchild’s mission statement is: “To provide kids’ centres, including: homes, innovative medical care, psychosocial support, and education to orphans living with AIDS who do not have the support of extended families.”

If you would like to read the founder's congressional statement to the Congress regarding AidChild, click HERE.

The kids we visited were not merely orphans; they were orphans with AIDS. But that didn't stop their joy for life. They welcomed us with wonderful songs. Here are the lyrics just in case you can't decipher the thick accent:

Our dear visitors, you're welcome
We've been waiting for you
(Are you sure)
I'm sure, and I know, we are ready to dance for you.

OMG, don't you just want to dip a chip in them? They are so precious. There are 39 children at this orphanage in Mpiji, and we were lucky enough to get the chance to spend the day with them.

We spent the day repainting the outside walls of their school, but it really wasn't that big of a sacrifice. They were painting with us, we were having a blast, and in the meantime, work got done.

This is Mathew:

This is Mathew's tongue:
This is Mathew singing the welcome song:

This is Mathew trying to teach me the welcome song:

Although it's definitely healthy to remember where we fall short, it's also important to remember the moments when we do okay; otherwise, despair can swallow us whole, and that's the opposite of being "more than conquerors," which we are thanks to Someone who made us that way.

Moments of "okay"-ness:

There are moments when Brooke forgets her "rocket scientist" brain and just becomes a "rock star" of silliness for the sake of one kid.

And when Paul forgets his "rockstar" brain, and becomes a "rocket scientist" of detail for the sake of one kid.

When Jeami shows more compassion than anyone you've ever seen, for the sake of one kid.

I am surrounded by people who fall short, but those people are actually okay sometimes too. Sometimes they're downright amazing.

At the end of the day, the project is finished.

How easy it is for me to remember the project more than the people. Here's a glimpse so that when I forget, I can remember...

Remember....

Africa: Back From Africa Monday

2009-07-27T08:14:00.000-07:00

I'm back from Africa, so here's a list of what I will NOT be doing today (that I WAS doing last Monday when I had no internet to post).

1. Blogging by hand.
Yeah, that's the Nile in the background. SO COOL!

But wait, it gets better. That's me drinking coffee overlooking the Nile... AND an elephant!

2. Failing to flush
In the hotel, the famous toilet poem was posted in all tourist bathrooms:
If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down.
Yeah, that doesn't fly so well in Hermosa Beach with four girl roommates.

3. Being stopped while running.
In Gulu, apparently they do not know the phrase "run for fun" as well as their toilet poem.

While running through the streets that Monday morning, I was stopped repeatedly (at least 10 times) by Ugandans, who shouted, "Mzungu [white person], do you need help?" Their voices were thick with accent and concern: "Mzungu, what is wrong?" to which I would smile and reply, "Nothing!"

At this, they would say in confusion (every last one of them), "Then why are you running?"

Apparently, you only run if something large is chasing you -- human, animal, or natural disaster -- but something justifiable. Otherwise, you walk, or get made fun of, as I learned on my return trip running into the same Ugandans, who pointed and laughed at the crazy Mzungu running for running's sake.

4. Trying passion fruit for the first time.
Mmm...tastes soooo good.
Like orange pop rocks and mango with sour patch kids... or something like that.
Looks sooooo NOT good!

5. Floating down The Nile next to hippos, crocodiles, and possible death, while watching Paul try to catch his breath from laughing as I mistakenly called our boat driver, "Robot."

To my credit, Robert had a pretty thick accent.

6. Being stalked by a baboon. For reals.

I was on my way to dispose our lunch garbage. Suddenly I heard footsteps. I turned to see a baboon stalking me. I walked to the left, but another was there cutting off my escape.

“No!” I shouted at him like I was scolding a dog. My dog usually cowers with her tail between her legs. This guy stared at me like he wasn’t a fan of being scolded. “Just kidding, monkey,” I said, much to the delight of another Ugandan driver. “Hey,” I said to the driver laughing at my impending appendage removal, “how do you say ‘no’ in Lugandan?”

“Neh-dah,” he said.

“NEHHHHH-dah!” I said to the baboon. I swear he understood that word. He stopped.

But the other one looked at me like, “Lady, don’t make this difficult. Just hand over the purse.” Then I had a T-Rex Jurassic park moment. Another baboon attacked him for getting close to his territory, and they both ran off chasing each other.

Relieved, I turned and continued for the trash bin, and then it was my turn to stop. Another baboon, definitely the smartest in the pack, bypassed the ‘stalk and chase’ and instead perched herself WITH HER BABY at the base of the trash bin.

She knew where the food was heading.
I had seen enough Animal Planet shows to know you don’t mess with the kids when Mom’s around. It was time to test my basketball skills. With four sack lunches, I attempted three-point shots from 25 feet out, negative 5000 points (and a limb) for clocking the baby perched on the rim.

So I shot like Shaq (1 for 4) but I missed the baby, thank God. Thankfully, the litter didn’t last long, as all the baboons from the poorer districts came out of the woodwork for my poorly thrown snacks strewn wildly across the grounds. It was a good moment. I was intact, they were fed. Everybody won.

Africa: Sanyu Orphanage

2009-07-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

Our first stop was Sanyu Babies Orphanage in Kampala, an orphanage that cares primarily for abandoned children 1 day old to 4 years old.

Here is the view from the orphanage.

Here are some quick facts about the country of Uganda: http://www.sanyubabies.com/UgandaLife.html. This little boy is telling you to go to the site if you get a chance.

Most of the workers at Sanyu don’t have time off because there are way more children than paid workers and volunteers. Seven adults for 48 infants and toddlers. Sheesh! Imagine “Kate Plus Eight” minus the husband, nanny, and camera crew.

And while we’re at it, imagine caring for seven babies without disposable diapers. For that matter, Moms, imagine caring for ONE baby without disposable diapers.

Those of you Moms and Dads also know that there is no such thing as a day off; likewise, the paid staff members are working seven days a week. Therefore, our job was to play with the children and alleviate the workload of the staff for a day.

This is Jeami, and a smile that shows her deep love for anything with chubby cheeks.

Notice the trepidation in this kid's face:

"Phew! I made it!"
Yeah, check out the grade on that slide. She is standing UP! Not much of a slide as it is a free fall into hard-packed dirt death. So although the orphanage doesn't have the funds to make the best playground, the workers do place a great deal of heart and effort into rehabilitating these forgotten children.

Here is a picture of the rehabilitation of one of the boys, David. You may need to double click on this picture to see it bigger, but disregard the top row of Francis, Patrick, and Frida. Start at the bottom row under the word "David". That's what David looked like when they found him. Travel counter-clockwise with the pictures and you will see how he's improved. Beautiful, isn't he?
If you want to see more case studies, click on these four babies from Sanyu.

Here are some of my favorite pics:

"GOT MILK?"

"WHICH SHOES GO BETTER WITH THIS OUTFIT?"
"EVEN LITTLE PIGGIES NEED A BATH"
"JUST A COUPLE OF GUYS HANGING OUT"

Doesn't this sweet picture remind you of those ads to get you to help donate? Nose running, single tear streaming down the cheek. You think, Oh, sweet girl, why are you crying?
Little did you know that some of those pictures might just be a girl who was sad that she couldn't figure out a way to untie my USC Trojan hat from my backpack.

Paul lovingly teaches this child the most important English phrases to learn:

Good words to know.

Africa: Day One in London

2009-07-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

Finally back in The States! After pulling an all-nighter with Abbey in London (more about that in a later post), I've been too exhausted to write anything. To give you a perfect example of just how tired I was, on the plane I was nodding off to the movie Anchorman. I know, impossible, right? I kept my earphones on, though, and I would hear lines like, "I wanna be on you," and laugh out loud, and then fall back asleep. My seat partner must have thought I was nuts, some passed out girl next to him giggling and snoring, giggling and snoring.

Let's post some pics! Here is Team Africa before we left, sans Brooke who met us in England because she lives in DC.

Fast forward to arriving in London. We spent a rainy day killing time.

Here we are on my first "tube" ride:

Brooke and I enjoy the blandest food I've ever eaten in my life. I'm not sure if cooks in England have discovered salt yet.

We took ourselves through the park along this trail:

I did not learn much about Princess Di on this walk, but I did learn that nobody in London steals lawn chairs. Do you think these would last five minutes at a park in Los Angeles?

Here's a gaggle of Brits in their summer dresses and umbrellas in line for the invitation-only Queen's Garden Party.

...while meanwhile the soldiers stayed dry in their boxes.

Here's a picture of Big Ben, which I finally read about this morning. It is the world's largest four-faced chiming clock. There's a larger clock in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but it doesn't chime. And it's in Milwaukee.

Everything's cooler in London, even clocks. Every now and then, people are allowed access with an escort up to the top, but there is no elevator, so they must climb 334 steps. It has no elevator because it was built in the 1850's, after the original tower was destroyed in a fire in 1834. Big Ben is actually the nickname for the clock, not the tower.

What else is cool? The English and their crazy styles of shoes:

Their toilets where you can flush and stretch at the same time:

Even their announcements are cooler. In the airport, they said, "Any luggage left alone will be promptly removed and DESTROYED." Such a great word. I envisioned dynamite sticks and wild German shepherds.

Their exit signs are cooler.

The lady in the bathroom sign is also cooler, as she is obviously standing above a leaf blower:
And while we're on the subject of bathrooms, check out this sign. Their vocabulary choices make everything sound cooler.
Lavatory. I have to use the lavatory. Doesn't it make going to the bathroom sound like such an intellectual experience?

Tomorrow I will take you visually through Day ONE of Africa. Can't wait! Catch you then...

2009-07-21T05:06:00.000-07:00

Hip. Hip Hop. Hiphopapotamus...

Yesterday, we arrived at The Nile. Yes, The Nile. That thing is massive. When I picture baby Moses floating down in his basket, I usually picture a little stream that someone could wade across in less than 10 seconds. Now that I’ve been here, I have to say it’s a good thing the kid wasn’t an active baby. When I’ve read the story in Exodus, I’ve never stopped and thought about all the wildlife involved in the floating of Moses. God not only made Moses float to the right person, but he also made sure Moses wasn’t a sack lunch for some crocodile. Nowadays, child protective services would have been ON that mother. You’re going to put him in the water with HIPPOS? Really, lady?

We took a boat safari yesterday, and a driving safari today. There is no way I’m going to even begin to blog about a safari WITHOUT posting pictures because it’s so much about what you see.

I will tell you that Gibson drove the minivan. I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned Gibson. He is our 50-something-year-old stoic maniacal Ugandan driver for the whole two weeks. Paul wishes a Hollywood casting company could get ahold of him. He'd play the same role. In every T.V. show the credits would read, "Gibson as Himself". Let’s talk about his driving skills for a moment. I think he has superhero powers. He can drive between two cars with exactly one inch of wiggle room on each side (at 60 mph). I know because I have had to pull my elbow in the car to avoid clothes-lining a motorcyclist.

By the way, there are two types of cars here: bodas (motorcycles) and Toyota minivans from the eighties (taxis). There are more motorcycles than cars, and entire families will pile deep (and two high) on one motorcycle. I have seen a family of five on one. And what’s a helmet?

Anyway, we were stoked that instead of taking a safari jeep into the wilds of Africa, we were taking a MINIVAN! I mean, really, who gets to say that? “We went looking for lions in a minivan!” Yes, the minivan with over 200,000 miles on it that overheated twice on the way to the safari!

But the cooler part is that our Indy 500 retiree drove the vehicle. Gibson drove, and the tour guide rode shotgun. And while we're on the topic, our tourguide riding shotgun also held a shotgun. Or a tranquilizer gun in the shape of a rifle. Or maybe it was a rifle. All I know is that if we had to go to the bathroom during any part of the tour, he had to come with us with his shoulder strap gat, which should tell you that squatting in Python neighborhood is a very compromising position.

We listened to the guide's random animal facts for about 15 minutes and then we climbed up on the roof of the van to take some pictures. The view was incredible. Suddenly we were like, “Oh my gosh, we have to stay up here!” So we hung on tight and rode atop the luggage rack for the whole safari. The luggage rack has a nice 4-inch rim around the perimeter, and Abbey pointed out, so well-timed as we were driving towards a lion, “Hey, the luggage rack kind of looks like a dinner plate, doesn’t it?”

Oh, and yes, I said LION! We saw a freaking LION! How awesome is that. It was even more awesome when Gibson went off-roading in the soccer mom vehicle TOWARDS the creature. Here, kitty, kitty. Room service! Here’s a platter of humans. I was thinking, “Huh. So if she starts walking our way, what exactly is our plan? Do we roll up our air windows?” Shortly after we cut the engine, an antelope came running through the field, and for a moment, it looked like we were going to see some live Discovery Channel footage with all the carnage. The huge cat stood up, and got in attacking position. Picture your little cat at home getting ready to pounce on a roll of yarn, only bigger and FOR REAL. She even had the little playful tail flick. She didn’t even look hungry. She was probably thinking, “Should I attack this antelope just because it’s so stupid to run right in front of me?” Then she decided, “Eh, too much work,” and turned 180 degrees and looked exactly at us. It was simultaneously the coolest and most terrifying moment of the safari.

Jeami stayed behind and had a relaxing morning while we went on our safari. When Paul hopped in the car, he said, “Jeami has only one request. If we do have to get out of the car on the game trail to use the bathroom, please stay close to the car because there HAS been an incident here of someone getting trampled by an elephant.”

I said, “Oh my gosh, what a story for your funeral!”

Brooke said, “What a funeral!” And it was downhill from there.

Paul said, “You could have a flat casket.”

“And serve pancakes,” Brooke added.

“I was thinking animal crackers,” Paul countered.

“With all the cameras that were present,” I said, “I’m sure you could have a slide show of the event.”

“You’d get buried in a trunk,” Paul said. At this, we groaned, which only serves to bait Paul. “And everybody would shake their heads and say, ‘Tusk, tusk.’”

“But they’d all remember you,” Brooke said.

“Yeah, but I think the whole affair would be a circus,” Paul said.

Thanks, folks. Tip your waiters.

It amazed us that many of the animals would freeze and stare at us as we drove by, as if they didn’t see safari tours every day of their lives. Many of them looked at us like “WTF?” The great part is that they would freak out, then slowly calm down, then return to grazing. Then they’d think, “This isn’t so smart,” so they’d run up ahead but still along the game trail. So eventually we’d drive up to them again, and they’d repeat the whole process as if it was brand new: WTF, freak out, slowly calm down, graze again, spontaneously run away. None of them had a look like, “Wait a sec. Something’s familiar here.”

By the way, the wildlife is not only on the game trails, as I discovered last night trying to remember Jeami and Paul’s room number. Now in Africa, there are bats everywhere. It’s a given. They’re like houseflies in America. But you always figure their radar is in working order. I have learned the hard way that this is not always the case. A bat thought it was entering a cave when in fact, it was just my mouth hanging wide open as I squinted in the dark at the door numbers. I spit as if a gnat had landed on my tongue, because I had never practiced the spitting technique for when a fistful of fur demands entry through your lips. I continued spitting long after the transaction, but I must say it was a fantastic breeding of gross and spectacular. Was it Edward?

And there’s my teen allusion for the night.

Conversation bit (regarding the incident)

Me: I like bats. They’re cool creatures. I just don’t want one flying in my mouth.
Brooke: A couple of preventative options there.

Oh, the birds were neat too. There were 451 different species of birds out there. I will tell you more when I post the pics next week, but for now I must go to bed. I spent 8 hours on the road today, and the bed is calling me.

Funniest dialogue of the day that was not intended to be funny:

Me: Do you know where my machete is?
Brooke: Yes, it’s in the bag with all the kids’ clothes for the orphanage.

2009-07-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

Saturday we went to the government hospital, which is the free hospital. We bought 200 non-stackable plastic mugs (what we would have given for Styrofoam!), 200 sweet rolls, a bunch of 4-liter thermoses, and a jar of tea leaves. We took tea and rolls to the children's ward, the AIDS ward, and the (mal)Nutrition ward.

Then we handed out baby clothes to all the half naked kids, and we had a good laugh about (once again) the peaceful aggressive nature of the Ugandans. Instead of bombarding us and shoving to be first to our suitcase of clothes, they waited patiently for us to bring a piece of clothing to them. Never once did they even ask us for clothing or say, "Give me." But when we'd return with clothing for the next kid, suddenly that first baby was naked again. After second-guessing ourselves way too many times ("Wait a minute... didn't you just dress that baby?") We realized the moms were removing their children's clothes and hiding the clothes under the mattresses. And they'd quietly wait for us to clothe their child again, and more than a couple of times, we actually did.

Hmm... how do I give you a picture of this place without an actual picture? There's something oxymoron-ish about a hospital with empty medicine cabinets. The hospital doesn't provide meals, so if you plan on being hungry while you're sick, you need to bring your own food.

The children's ward had 20-30 beds in a room, and the nutrition ward was outside on a shaded slab of cement. The AIDS ward was about 20 people dying in the same room and in a significant amount of pain. Like I said, bare cabinets. I only saw one nurse, and in two hours, I didn't see one doctor. We spent the morning "being" with them. The death isn't so much the issue. Death happens. It's the manner in which they die that's difficult.

I usually don't curse. I often think that if I curse, it's because I can't think of a more intelligent adjective or interjection to use. There are rare times when it simply erupts from you, such as back in college when I hit the cat who thought it would be fun to dive under my car as I drove my teammates to cross-country practice. I was going about 20 miles an hour and I really think the cat committed suicide, but regardless, when I saw it dive for my wheels and heard the contact, I remember screeching my car to a stop, and slamming my fist against the steering wheel while repeatedly screaming "F$#!" More times in a row than I had in my whole life combined. On top of that, the cat had tags, and I had to carry it to its owner's house at 6 in the morning. Needless to say, it took me a couple of weeks to fully recover.

Vanessa (my dorm mate at the time) had grown up in a Mexican household where animals are not pets, so she was a little lacking in the "working me through the grieving process", as she left cat stickers and subscriptions to "Cat Fancy" magazine all over my dorm room daily.

Today at the "free care" hospital, the weight of what I saw was overwhelming at best, but it doesn't hit you right away. I mean, it does, because you have to be an idiot not to realize that this place sucks. But it is what it is. What can you do, really? So you do your part, hug a bunch, make the kids laugh, hold the dying patients and kiss them all over. Whatever, right?

Afterwards, we were at a hotel having lunch and I was in the bathroom washing my hands. "How's it going?" Brooke asked me. I nodded and shrugged and meant to say, "Fine," but "fuck" came out instead.

I actually don't think there was a more appropriate word.

Anyway, before we left, we got a list of the most needed items. After lunch we went to the local pharmacy. Here, you can buy any drug you want, if you have the money. No prescriptions necessary. So we filled a box with (in case any of you are pharmaceutical nerds): Erythromycin, Amoxicillin, Cipro, Folic acid, Iron, and some injections with abbreviations like CLOXA, CAF, and AMP.

Then rock star translator Tom phoned the most trustworthy nurse in Gulu. How did he know her? Because he's Tom and he's a rock star, that's how. He made sure that she received the box of medications because there's no accountability at the hospitals, and some nurses would gladly take the medication home to their extended families.

Overall it was a good day, and there is so much more but I must sign off. We are on the road to our safari and there are baboons and "Pumba's" outside my van window.

2009-07-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

I've been lathering my entire body in Jungle Juice (100 percent Deet) twice a day for over 10 days now. Not a mosquito bite to be seen on my entire body but I'm feeling that the formula needs some slight tweaking. I might be able to make an incision on my skin using just my fingernail.

I look at the city of Gulu, and if it were an Etch-A-Sketch, and I were a city planner, I'd turn it upside down and shake vigorously, flip it back up, and start over. It looks as if a three-year-old got ahold of a Sim City Game and started pushing buttons on the keyboard. Out came Gulu. The people are fantastic, but the city is so disorganized and dirty and chaotic.
Conversation bit (while driving)

Paul:

Brooke:

In Gulu, they speak Acholi, so I have learned some very essential survival phrases to pass onto you in case you visit:

Apwoyo Matek (Uh-FOY-yo Ma-TECK)

Apwoyo

Lubanga (loo-BONG-ga)

Jesu Mari (JAY-soo MED-dee)

Yange Kwon Dudi (YONG-gay kwon DOO-dee)

Dudi

Common misconceptions at a restaurant:

Chips are not potato chips.
Chips are french fries.

Banana Split is not a banana with ice cream and toppings.
Banana Split is literally a split banana, fried up and served.

"It is coming" does not mean your food is coming.
It means "It is not coming. We are still trying to catch the goat for your stew."

"I'm bringing" does not mean your waiter is bringing your food.
It means, "The cook has not begun but possibly will begin soon.

They make one meal at a time in the kitchen at our hotel.

So quick recap, as the days are blending together. We finally got updates on the hospital visits. Eunice (the girl we found on the side of the road) actually had malaria, not yellow fever, which strangely is a relief. After admitted with a "severe" case according to the doc, she was released just two days later. Miraculous recovery. Click here for the earlier post on Eunice.

Sharon's grandmother has septic arthritis in her knee. Mercy had pneumonia. Mercy's brother Daniel tested negative for sickle cell. Hooray! However, he does have an upper respiratory tract infection and a gross infection on his finger, but all are fixable. We delivered their meds to their huts yesterday. We found out that Mercy and her brother and sister didn't have shoes for school uniforms, so today we went shoe shopping. If you missed the earlier post on Mercy, click here.

Conversation bit (regarding Sharon's little sister):

Paul:

Jeami:

Paul:

Two days ago (Friday in Africa), we looked at land for sale. Jeami is planning on starting a primary school here. We hiked to one area with a father, a grandfather, and a great grandfather who own the land, and they discussed buying options (through our rock star translator Tom). Can I just add that grandfather was wearing a pink and white 50 Cent hat with "G-Unit" embroidered on it?

Conversation bit (regarding purchasing the land):

Old Man:

Tom:

(to Jeami)

Jeami:

(Lots of Acholi discussion between all generations)

Old Man:

Tom:

(to Jeami)

Redefining "weird" in Africa

2009-07-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

All right, it's been pretty intense the past few days.

In Uganda...

It WOULD be weird to use toothpaste.
Here they use salt instead of Colgate and a finger instead of a toothbrush. And can somebody say, "Dentist"? Not here, because your mouth would probably hurt too much from all the cavities.

It WOULD NOT be weird to pierce your son's ear.
I noticed some young boys have their ears pierced (just one ear) and I asked our translater, Anthony, for the reason. He said that parents have recently started piercing an ear to prevent their child from being sacrificed. You can imagine my confusion at trying to correlate earrings to child sacrifice. In this area, witch doctors have been abducting children and taking them to the jungles for child sacrifice. If an ear is pierced, those children are considered "unclean" for sacrifice and are subsequently left alone. Yeah, try to wrap your brain around THAT one. The witch doctors' practices have become so rampant that there is currently a bill on the table to make witchcraft illegal.

It WOULD be weird to ask a pregnant woman when her due date is.
There is such a high mortality rate and a strong steeping in witchcraft nearby, that they believe that you might curse the baby by naming a birth date. If you are a guy and you ask that, be careful! The people listening might assume you are the father, as he is the only one privy to that information.

It WOULD NOT be weird to pass up a little girl sick on the side of the road.
Jeami saw her, and the World Vision workers looked at her strange when she made the van stop. They gently told us they see stuff like this all the time. But Jeami, God bless her beautiful mix of bullying compassion, insisted that all plans stop until we took care of her. She said, "I know you see this every day, but I don't, and I can't in good conscience drive past her." Her name was Eunice, and she was eight with a horrible case of yellow fever. If you want to know the symptoms, check my old blog posting on the day I got my vaccinations (I think it's titled Africa Pre-Show). Poor little one was a big vomiting party. Her dad was walking (not carrying) her the five miles to the hospital. Anyway, she had malaria and a parasite the previous month, so it wasn't looking good, but we'll know more tomorrow.

It WOULD be weird to ask for a drink on the rocks.
Why? Because there is no such thing. There is no ice. None. No ice for soda, no ice for coolers, no ice for I.T. Band Tendinitis. And a burn? Enjoy your inevitable blister. We took one of our World Vision children's grandmothers to the hospital today. Grandma's left knee was pretty gnarly, and yes, at some point I will post some pics. But it was filled with something that once drained, resembled original Gatorade. Gross with a capital "G". But talk about pain tolerance. That woman's a rock star. We asked her how long it had been that bad. She said "Seven". A week? No. Seven months? No. Seven YEARS. We'll get the test results tomorrow.

It WOULD NOT be weird to call somebody black.
People are blunt, and they call it like they see it. You are the black one, the old one, the one with the wart, the big-lipped one, etc. But the bluntness is not rude. It is "plain". They see things "plain", and there is no political correct language. There is also no Lugandan word for "please". They just say "Give me this", but it is not rude. While I mentioned Lugandan, I must say that English is the national language, but there are over 50 tribal languages in Uganda. Here in Gulu they speak Ocholi (probably butchered the spelling of that).

It WOULD be weird if you put a whole bar of soap in your shower.
Soap bars are two feet long. Pieces are sliced off as needed. Soap is a luxury item for these families. For the past two days, we have been meeting with the children and the families that our church sponsors through World Vision. The families are missing a lot of life's essentials: salt, flour, soap, sugar, clothing, shoes. And diapers, as Steven discovered while holding baby Eric. We provided the parents with all of the above, minus the diapers. A very soaked Steven just politely returned the baby to its mother.

It WOULD NOT be weird to see a classroom of 100 children.
Most classes are that big. There is one textbook per class. They copy EVERYTHING, and make their own textbooks out of composition books stapled together.

It WOULD be weird to use utensils.
One family made us food: po-show (don't ask me how it's spelled), chicken, and beans. Po-show is like solid water. It's flour and water and the consistency of a solid clump of cooked rice. It's like a clump of grits, but not very moist. I'm losing you, aren't I? It's tasteless, really, and it basically fills that malnourished belly. But you use pieces of it as a spoon, kind of like how you would use a tortilla to pick up beans.

It WOULD NOT be weird to see two heterosexual guys holding hands.
Last year, a married man from World Vision held Paul's hand and asked Paul to come watch the sun set with him.

SIDENOTE:
It's been amazing to hang out with these families. We have so many pictures of these children at home, but it's so cool when a 2-dimensional photo changes into a personality. We handed out all our packages, and played with the kids. Many of the children walked over two hours to visit with us, which was... I wish there was a word that could accurately depict what that feels like inside.

For those back home, if you've never met a Ugandan, stereotypically, they are a very well-mannered, respectful people. Kind. Not quick to smile. Total respect for authority. And Bredow family, your little girl breaks the stereotype that I just laid. She could NOT stop smiling and dancing.

In other news:
We took Jeami's World Vision child, Mercy, to the hospital today. She had yellow fever last week and she seems better now, but she is a little jaundiced and has a pretty gross cough. We'll get the results tomorrow. But let me just say, they had to draw blood, and it took the nurse, Jeami, AND Mercy's mother to hold that six-year-old down. What a fighter! It's like Jeami and Mercy were MEANT to be paired up! Her little brother Daniel was also looked at by the doctor, and they think Daniel might have sickle cell. Greaaaaat. Once again, if you try to think macro, you'll die of despair here. Gotta program yourself to be micro while you're here. One person at a time. It's enough.

Favorite moment:
We had lunch with a family in their mud hut, and Gibson, our Ugandan driver, moved his chair accidently into the firepit in the corner, and all 200 pounds of him went flying, food and all, through the hut. "Hey," he said in his thick accent while sprawled out across the hut floor. "There is a hole there." It was good to hear the natives laugh as if they were watching Justin Timberlake on SNL.

2009-07-14T07:23:00.000-07:00

Once again, uploading a picture here in Uganda is about as easy as locating a copy of "Chicago XVI" featuring such glorious couples-only-skating-at-the-roller-rink hits: Hard to Say I'm Sorry and Love Me Tomorrow...

Allow me to be Debbie Downer for one paragraph:
Today we met eleven of the World Vision children that our church supports. We met their families, and provided them with soap, flour, candy, salt, cookies, clothes, soccer balls, and sugar. They were very grateful, but you always vacillate between wondering if you're really helping them help themselves or just making them more dependent on you. Then again, if they're starving, do you really care about how they view you? Still you can't help but think about this when you can definitely see that the fathers feel a bit emasculated when others (especially white girls) provide for his family. Not smart enough to come up with a better solution, so I just smile and hand out soap.

Onto the non-serious insights...

Things that you take for granted in America:

Toilet seats.
Yeah, there's just a hole, foot level no less, and you better hope you have good aim, guys and girls. This is tough, as we do not do practice drills of this kind in America.
Perforated toilet paper.
The T.P. here is like a roll of elastic newspaper. You pull and hope for the best.
Flushing, just because you feel like it.
Here you are not supposed to flush anything yellow; just let it mellow. And as we talked about the "Don't" List of Honeymoon places, Paul said, "Nothing says romance like a bowlful of your spouse's urine 6 feet away from you."
Any type of music other than "Joe's" Better Days Album.
If you are not familiar with this 2001 phenomenon, how do I describe it? Since "sex music" is not a real genre, I would categorize it as "vague R&B". Nothing like a little mood music blaring at your table during lunch.
Even steps.
By that, I mean that when you climb stairs, you know what to expect from the next step. Not so here. You are walking down the steps at the hotel: small step, small step, whoa - big drop and hyperextension of the knee, and then another small step. And there's no pattern. It's like a stairmaster for the elite; no amateurs allowed. Keep your eye on the step or it's all over for you. It's all about the attitude though, and everyone here is like optimism on crack. In fact, today, as Paul accidentally stubbed his sandaled foot into an unpredictable slab of concrete step, he took a breath and said, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body." To which Brooke replied, "That's right. It's just a down payment for glory."
Rain that is just rain.
Last night there was lightning in the sky. Therefore, we had to duct tape the half-inch of air space in our hotel room balcony door. Apparently, white ants come out when it rains --- huge white six legged critters with wings. The natives will sweep up all the dead ones after it rains, pluck the wings off, and fry them. They are a delicacy. I prefer M&Ms when I really want to splurge on a rainy day.
Traffic rules in general.
There's something to be said for a stop sign. Here it serves as a fire hydrant for a goat. Speaking of goats, it's very disconcerting to hear a dying goat as the most common ringtone on the local cell phones.
Shower curtains.
Well, you can clean your toilet while you shower; that's one plus.

Ridiculous moment of the day:
Downstairs in the hotel lobby, we were watching some crazy Nigerian soap opera about two 8 year old boys and the hyjinx they cause a mentally retarded lady neighbor (and I am not exaggerating when I explain the plot). Finally Jeami asked them to change the channel to CNN. It took them 20 minutes to send the message and get the channel changing started (Ugandan time has no word for "immediately"). But Paul immediately came downstairs and said, "Hey, I was just getting into that soap opera!" Apparently every T.V. in the entire hotel is hooked to the lobby T.V. Whatever channel the lobby T.V. plays, the T.V. will play in your room!

2009-07-13T06:59:00.000-07:00

Hello from Middle Of Nowhere, Africa! I have reception for the first time in three days, and It is impossible to sum up on a cell phone all that has transpired. I promise to take you through many fun africa blog adventures once I return to The States. But for now, I will hit some highlights just so you know I haven't been devoured by a cannibalistic tribe (we are near a tribe who doesn't kill people to eat, but will eat their dead. Weird).

Things I've learned about Africa:

It is ridiculously improper for a lady to cross her legs. It's like the equivalent of Britney Spears forgetting to wear underwear. Crossing ankles is okay.
Dresses? Yes. Skirts? Cover your knees. Pants? Very unattractive for girls. Shorts? Never! They made an exception when I played soccer with them. I think they were more mesmerized by a girl playing soccer than by my bare knees.
Don't pet dogs. They're wild.
Most African children scream when they see a caterpillar. Caterpillars are not cute. If you touch them, their quills will poison you and you will itch unbearably for thirty minutes to two hours.
If you want to say hi, just hold five fingers up. Do not wave the way Americans say Hi. Waving American style means, "Come here."
When Africans greet you, they will say, "You're welcome," even if you didn't say "Thank you." It is their greeting to say, "You're most welcome."
"Mzungu" (muh-zoon-goo) means "white person", often used when making fun of our American cluelessness.
Stay on the dirt paths. Snakes don't like the dirt because it scratches their bellies. The bush areas, particularly trees, are rampant with snakes. All are deadly.
Cobras are black. Green mambas are (you guessed it) the color of grass and they are skinny so they look like grass. Perfect.
Spiders jump. High. I discovered this when I tried to shoo one out of my room and it leapt up to my eye level.
When you go to a village store called the "Quicky Picky" (which is just a hut with a window) and they sell both bubble gum AND machetes, you MUST buy both. $1.50 for a machete? Talk about cheap entertainment. I sliced grass and leaves for at least an hour.

Favorite conversation yesterday:

Village child: Do you have a child?
Brooke: Nope.
Village child: Do you have a husband?
Brooke: Nope.
Village child: Good! Then you are a virgin! That is very good.

Orphanages in Uganda

2009-07-09T23:22:00.000-07:00

I've got ten minutes in an internet cafe to get this thing out and posted, so I apologize ahead of time for any spelling, grammatical, or lack of wit errors.

In the afternoon on Wednesday, we visited Sanyu Orphanage.

Like I said, Uganda is a mess, but you do what you can. This orphanage specializes in rescuing abandoned children ranging in age from less than one day old to three years old. A lot of times, wild dogs will lead the caregivers to the babies, often left in bushes, dumpsters, or swamp areas. The orphanage has a 50 child capacity, and it currently houses 47 little adorable tykes.
The lady explained this all to us, but I missed a lot of it through translation so check out their website: www.sanyubabies.com.

Yes, she spoke perfectly good English, and at first I couldn’t get why I couldn’t get it. Then I noticed that Ugandan people place accents on different syllables that we do, and sometimes even add syllables. “Our” is two syllables when they speak it. So is “Sure”. Often times, they attach the last syllable of one word to the first syllable of the next word. And that totally made sense in my brain, but you are not in there (Thank God for you!) so basically, what I’m saying is that I had to watch her words rather than listen to them.

Things I discovered that day: I’m a lousy lip reader.

~~Here are a couple of my favorite photos.~~ The photos will have to wait, as sending one of them (at this internet cafe) will cost me my sanity. Although this place is way understaffed: seven workers for 50 babies, those workers take amazing care of the little ones with hardly any funding. Many are locally and internationally adopted.

~~Take a look at these pics and tell me if you’re not instantly in love.~~ If you could see the pics you would be instantly in love. Yes, me too. Not only are these adorable kids without parents, but they’re also living with full blown AIDS.

AidChild is an organization that was started by a kid named Nathaniel from Arizona who moved here with 3000 dollars in his pocket. Today, he has two orphanages, one with 90 kids, and the one we visited today with 38 kids. Please look up his site: www.aidchild.org. We spent the day painting and playing. These children are given a fantastic education. They speak perfect English and create all their own textbooks. They LOVE to learn. Most of all you can tell that they are loved. They have been raised without ever feeling like they’re missing a family. This is their family and they love each other.

Please check out www.aidchild.org

Welcome to Uganda!

2009-07-09T12:59:00.000-07:00

Semicolon Song

2009-07-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

While I'm in Africa, I'm having someone post my previously written articles to keep you entertained. :)

Here are my students singing to you about what to do with that darn semicolon.
"Mr. Semicolon Song"
There was a semicolon: a comma and a dot;
he separated clauses that were independent thoughts.
An independent clause is one completed thought,
and two are separated with a comma and a dot.

Example one:
Ron hit John in the face; (semicolon)
consequently, John's face is blue and swollen.
Are you gettin' a clue?
Well, here's example two:

Ron says basketball is his favorite sport;
amazingly, he's really good for being so short.
Between the two clauses, in case you forgot,
is Mr. Semicolon; yep, a comma and a dot.
HEY!
Mr. Semicolon is also used between
a bunch of items listed that have commas in those things.

The last two lines of the song are slightly confusing so I usually write the following sentences on the board for examples of that rule. I apologize ahead of time for any possible offensiveness.
I do teach 17 and 18-year-olds.

(lists of people and their jobs)
The people at the meeting were I.P. Freely, toupe comber; Mike Rotchutches, deodorant tester; and Dan Issa Ho, carny worker.

(lists of cities and their states)
I can't wait to go on a wild vacation in Compton, California; Podunkville, Nebraska; and Provo, Utah.

Hello From London!

2009-07-07T11:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of pics. No hookups here.

Time is short because I am at the airport and this internet is eight million dollars every 10 minutes. Quick recap of the day:

We ran around London on three hours of sleep.
It was raining, and the rain was kind of romantic against the backdrop of the old stone buildings.

The queen was having a Garden Luncheon by invitation only, and it didn't look like much of a day for sun bonnets, but they wore them anyway as they stood in a very long queue (English for "line", I learned). Oh, and I don't know who "they" is, but they definitely had fancy yellow invitations and it was by invitation only.

We took a cab to Big Ben, and I asked the driver which side the gas pedal was on, and he was very amused. Apparently, the gas pedal is always on the right, no matter what country you're in.

He said, "That would be quite confusing if they switched that up, now wou'nt it, dearie?"
I told him switching sides of the road is quite more confusing than switching pedals, but he just cocked one eyebrow, probably thinking, "Oh, uneducated Americans!"

Speaking of a lack of education, once at Big Ben, I asked my team, "What's the history of this clock? Is it tied to parliament? Why is it a landmark? What can you tell me of Big Ben?"
Every person in our group could only agree on one truth about Big Ben:
Peter Pan flies around it.

Ohhhh, uneducated Americans...

I will look it up when I am back in America and it no longer costs me to learn (there's something ironic about that on the global scale, but it's just out of reach from my lack-of-sleep brain).
I do have one story, although it is not my own, it still makes me smile even now.

One of our team, Judy, was wearing headphones on the flight and trying to put herself to sleep with soothing music. She also sat next to a very disgruntled woman who kept setting her elbows heavily on the arm rest, which was pushing all sorts of buttons inadvertantly. Just as Judy would drop off to sleep, this lady's elbows would hammer the volume up and blast poor Judy practically out of her chair. And twice Judy's husband Steven woke her up to ask, "Why do you keep turning the reading light on? Come on, Judy, try to get some sleep."

Tonight we fly to Uganda (another 9 hour flight). We arrive in the morning, and will head straight to an orphanage. Pray that I don't fall asleep changing a diaper.

Pray that I don't change a diaper.

"Not Me" Monday

2009-07-06T07:57:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I'm leaving for Africa today! One thing I won't be doing is enjoying the eleven hour flight to London. One day some genius engineer is going to design chairs with treadmills underneath.

Although I should be running around with my head cut off, as I usually do before I take off on any trip (even a mere 3-hour car ride), I decided to put "panic" on my "To Don't" list, and enjoy the morning in style.

I got an extra hour of sleep.
Apparently, the dog didn't! But sure to her name, Kaleb (Hebrew meaning: faithful; bold), she stays right next to me until I get up. Sidenote: Kaleb (Hebrew definition 2: "dog" - not even kidding)

I had my last white chocolate dream latte (one-shot-only, extra hot, with whip)
Hooray for morning pics!

I had my all-American guilty pleasure: pinkberry.
And why not hang out with the ex-boyfriend while I'm covering the list of "To Don'ts"?

I went running on the beach.
And to all those early nineties teenagers, yes, that is the "90210" house.

I went to the gym and got in a fight AGAIN with the Ab machine. I always yell at it: "When are you going to get easier?"
Kicks my butt every time. My proof: who sweats from their chins when they do an ABDOMINAL workout?

I got a fake tattoo:
I really don't know why I did it. Just felt like it. Wanted to feel tribal, I guess.
Remember my post on last week's "Not Me Monday"?
Well, here's an update. Today I actually took the dog on her much needed walk:

I repacked my carry-on:
Yes, that would be a ziplog baggie for each day of the trip. I'm either extremely messy or anally organized. There's no middle ground with me... as you can see from the room that never got cleaned this week:
Some things you just have to let go. It was clean the room OR
write to the best roommates in the world those "If I don't come back from Africa, I bequeath to you..." letters.
I chose the latter.

Oh, and of course when you go to Africa, you need to have your stereotypical American last meal: In N Out.

Other Monday "To Don'ts"
Along the way, our team received a TON of donations.
Although Uganda is a third-world country, and you'd think they'd be in need of absolutely EVERYTHING, here are a few items that didn't make the cut:

REJECTED DONATION #1:
As much as those drum circles "rock", I don't know as if the sequins and the fish net sleeves would be in the dress code.

REJECTED DONATION #2:
The towel with the naked fat pink man.

REJECTED DONATION #3:
The syringe highlighter

REJECTED DONATION #4:
Really. This was donated, I swear. Actually someone donated a whole box of used thongs and g-strings, which is just wrong on so many levels.

Well, I'm off. I will try to write in London, but we shall see. Have a ridiculous Monday!