Stuck

I have taught/am teaching Elinore to say "mama" when she needs help instead of frantically whining. I was working on the computer yesterday while she was crawling around the dining room. I suddenly heard her saying, "Mama, mama, mama, mama,..." I looked over and saw this. She had been scavenging for food under her high chair and was stuck! 

After shock

And today, my stylist walked into work. I braced myself for the worst, as she disappointingly realized that I had re-cut my hair, but beyond all of my wildest hopes, she bounded over and said, "I just LOVE your hair!! Do you like it? But tell me the truth." And I could honestly reply, "Yes! I love it! And I've gotten so many compliments!"

Some stories do have happy endings after all.

Disaster Relief

After a $55 crisis intervention, I feel much better about my hair. Unfortunately the salon I went to did not offer counseling. I have to figure out what to tell me coworker who did the first cut for me. If anyone has suggestions, I'm open. 

Chernobyl, I mean, my new haircut

 

Concert

Tonight the head of the music department at Albion invited a guest pianist to put on show. The guy who came played 3 pieces by Beethoven on a re-made 1780's fortepiano. It was amazing. I've never heard anyone play on anything other than a grand and the fortepiano had such a light airy tone to it. Mike has really gotten in to classical music so he really wanted to go and I agreed to go. I wasn't quite sure what to expect but I really enjoyed it...that is except for one thing. Every artist has his/her little quirk, and this guy had a tendency to groan and sigh really deeply when playing any intense part of the piece. I have never been so distracted at a performance before. I love music, but I much prefer it is coming from the instrument or being sung. The groaning concerto is not quite what I had anticipated. Had this guy been playing on a grand I don't think it would've been a problem because it is so much louder than the piano he was playing on. Oh well, it was still a wonderful performance.

Caitlyn, I know you have friends I hear you talk about them all the time. I have been feeling the same way about mom and dad. I keep thinking of things I want to call mom to talk about but I can't so we're in the same boat. I like the second quote, it really got me thinking about how I cook meat.

Jen and Kevin, Mike and are totally excited to come to little miss ella's numero uno birthday!!!!

Alone

I didn't realize that Mom and Dad were my only friends. And now they are out of the country with 6 days left until they're back. And every evening I get home from work to a dark, empty apartment, and I think.. and I can't even call Mom and Dad. And every morning I walk my 4 blocks to the train station in the now-cold, and I think.. and I can't even call Mom and Dad. And Sunday came and went, and I was a hermit because there was no one to talk to.

I went to the movie store to distract myself from the void and rented 2 movies (and spent $9!!!! horrific) to watch alone. I popped popcorn alone and when my artsy French film came on, I realized the subtitles were defective. There were none. I understood the first 30 seconds (because there was no dialogue) and then I had to turn it off. And in my grief I stopped watering my plants. Because if I have to suffer, so do they.

They forgot to mention at graduation that in addition to setting forth and changing the world and getting jobs etc, that we would also have no friends. So take note, Laura. Unless you stay in your college town, living with a college roommate, surrounded by your college friends, you, too, will have none. You will end up like me--a bitter and cranky old lady who mutters obscenities at foreign films and behaves masochistically towards plants.

However, I've found that when there is nothing else, one becomes quite creative. I've taken up refrigerator poetry. Because after all, every great poet had to start somewhere, and when I've gotten home, cooked, and eaten, and it's 8:30, and I say to myself.. well, Caitlyn, you can go to bed or write refrigerator poetry. The choice is clear. I will leave you with my two latest compositions. I hope they inspire you to think critically and reflectively about this thing we call life.

"Beauty is when I smell the whispering sky in a dream
I am drunk on purple music of the sea
I swim through the chocolate winter in bare feet
Singing into a thousand shadows
Lying abreast of essentiality
A day behind eternity
In death
Life"

"Never cook meat with drool."

The weekend in review

What a cultural weekend! THIS is what I moved to the city for. Friday, after being rejected from the Chicago Public Library (because the mail I brought to prove my address did not have a postmark), my roommate, and I and 2 friends went to have sushi. Now, mind you, I like to think of myself as slightly cultured, but I am not very adventurous where seafood is concerned. I have had the rolls before but always vegetarian ones because I've been too chicken to try anything else. But the spirit was upon us, and we laughed and chatted over the caviar, raw salmon, raw tuna, and it was ok!

When we were full we left and made our way downtown to the Chicago Theater to hear Ani DiFranco perform. While I am not very familiar with any of Ani's songs, I have admired her art and the way she uses it. She is a folk artist in the most authentic sense of the word. Original music with provocative poetry, weaving in her ideas about peace, the environment, our society, and feminism, all the while using her voice as an instrument, experimenting with words and sounds to create various effects. It was the first concert that I've been to in a while where one could actually listen to and enjoy the music without the threat of being moshed or losing your hearing. (don't get me wrong, those have their place as well). There were moments when the entire theater, holding hundreds of people, was silent hanging on Ani's every word as she recited a poem. And then on a whole different level, I was amazed that she stood up on stage, jamming on the guitar, singing, and dancing around for 2 hours while 5-6 months pregnant!

Last night after working all day, I met up with some friends from work for my Moroccan friend's birthday celebration. We walked to an Arabic bar called Souk where we enjoyed hummus, pita, and all sorts of middle eastern appetizers while patrons smoked hookah around us, the musicians pounded out the girating beat, and people danced on the floor in a large circle, holding hands, and slowly turning in time with the music. At the stroke of midnight, the dance floor cleared, the music changed, and like an apparition, a woman came through the tables wearing a golden headpiece, with a lit candelabra balanced on top of her head. Her entire being was grace, and as she stepped onto the dance floor, her hips began to shimmy and shake, her abs rolled, her hands beckoned and she swept across the floor all the while with the flames balanced on her head. She belly danced for an hour, and we were mesmerized. Every once in a while, a waitor would accept a tip from the crowd, convert it into singles, and then thumb them into the air one after another so they floated down around her as she danced. It was AMAZING. Now I have a reason to practice. I want to dance like HER! I'm still getting tangled up in my veil, and becoming wooden the moment I try to combine any of the isolated things I've learned. --moving my hands at the same time as my hips, or walking at the same time as shimmying. -- I, my friends, am entertainment of a different kind.

Mom and Dad just called from Italy to say that they arrived and just spent the day hiking through the towns of Cinque Terre. Remember that, Jen? Que nostalgia!

Hmmm

For fall break, Mom, Dad, Jen and Elinore came out for the football game. We destroyed Wisconsin Lutheran and poor Ella got stung by a bee. On sunday I drove out to Holland and went sailing with Mom and Dad and then on Monday Mike surprised me with a picnic at the Nature Center. I was a glorious day for it. Classes started again yesterday and today we had two mini-blizzards...odd? Yes, yes it is for it is only Oct. 12 as Caitlyn has pointed out as well. There is something fishy going on around here

It's snowing in Chicago. Hard. And it's October 12.

Reality Check

The most bizarre thing happened to me today and it didn't even include fowl! I don't even think a story could do justice so I'm just going to relate the phone conversation in dialogue form (with my thoughts in parentheses)

Monday, October 9th, 2006, 3:45 PM. Location: my desk.

Telephone: Ring, ring...

Caitlyn: L-- Stars, this is Caitlyn.

Caller: Hi.

pause

Caitlyn: Hello.

Caller: Yeah, Caitlyn, I need your help.

Caitlyn: Ok.

Caller: Well... let me give you a bit of background because you don't know the whole first episode.

Caitlyn: Ok. (Crap, this is going to be some mom calling to complain about something.)

Caller: So. (pause) My friend is a foreign exchange student from England and she like has this British accent all the time, and all the men are just wild about her and it is really gettin me down. (Speaking really fast so I can almost not understand).

Caitlyn: Ok. (Hesitantly, because what the heck does this have to do with me? Maybe its not a mom?)

Caller: So I need an accent.

pause

Caitlyn: I'm sorry?

Caller: You know I need an accent.

pause

Caitlyn: Well, ....we don't teach accents, we teach LANGUAGES. ....And we only work with children.

Caller: Oh. ...So which accent do you think is the sexiest?

pause

Caitlyn: Who is this? (WHAT?!)

Caller: My name is Allie.

Caitlyn: Ok. (Do I know any Allies??)

Caller: Maybe Italian? I could try an Italian accent.

Caitlyn: Sure.

Caller: So could you say something in Italian?

Caitlyn: Er, I don't speak Italian.

pause

Caller: Well what do you speak?

Caitlyn: English... and Spanish.

Caller: Oh, Spanish could be cool, kind of like a Selma Hayek kind of thing.

Caitlyn: Uh huh. (Oh my God, who IS this? Any second someone is going to start laughing about the good one they pulled on me)

Caller: So.. say something in Spanish. ...Say, "Hi boys, how are you doing today?"

pause

Caitlyn: You want me to say that in Spanish?

Caller: Yeah.

pause (Oh my God.)

Caitlyn: Hola chicos, como estan? (This is ridiculous)

Caller: Hola.. chicos.. como.. estan.

Caitlyn: That's it.

Caller: Cool. ...Now can you say it like you were a 900 number?

Telephone Line 2: Ring ring ring...

Caitlyn: (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??) I'm so sorry, I have to go get the other line. Thank you so much for calling. Goodbye.

CLICK.

I was sure that any second the phone would ring with somebody laughing telling me what a moron I had been, falling for that. Nobody called. I called other offices to find out if anyone had just called me. Nobody claimed it. I actually think it was real.

Wake Up Call

We've started the wishy-washy season where you need your coat on when you wake up but need short-sleeves by lunch. Thursday morning it was COLD in my apartment, and before leaving for work I pulled on my jacket and even dug my scarf out of the bottom of the drawer. When I got to the train station I looked around, and there wasn't anyone else wearing a scarf. In fact, there were a few men without coats at all, and women with open-toed shoes! I started to feel like a wimp and discreetly disrobed my neck, tucking the scarf into my bag. I thought that would be the most interesting part of my day, and I started imagining how I would relate it on the blog.

But, wait! I'm ME! Of course there were more interesting things in store! I arrived at work at the usual time. The teachers' bewitching hour came and went, and we were still down two teachers with no word. Both the director and I called one of them, and the moment we hung up with voicemail, one of the missing teachers walked in the door. Carrying. a. bird.

Yes. A bird. A wild sparrow she had picked up off the street because it was a baby and had clearly fallen out of its nest. I looked at her, incredulous. The children would be arriving in 15 minutes and what the heck where we going to do with the thing? Don't get me wrong, I have as bleeding a heart as the next person, but I also work in an environment where we have our NO NUT (or nut by-products, or anything processed on equipment with nuts) policy posted on every door to the building, and a hand sanitizer dispenser in the lobby to ward off lingering germs. I don't think a wild bird was going to pass the sterile test. She told us she wanted to call animal control to have someone put it back in the nest, and I urged her to take care of that immediately.

As I puttered around in those next 15 minutes helping teachers prepare their classes and passing out their hand-outs for the day, I went into this teacher's classroom and noticed a strange, fluttering sound coming from the cabinet. I opened it to find a concocted cage with the little bird inside hopping around. No, nooo, nooooo, absolutely not. I confronted the teacher to inform her that we absolutely could not have the bird in the building when the families got there. We came to a compromise that she would take the bird and its cage outside, and I would call animal control. The next thing I knew, it was five minutes until 9, families were on the verge of arriving, and a teacher approached me asking for the ladder. I pressed a little because I couldn't imagine why anyone would need the ladder right THEN and found out that the little wounded, baby bird had escaped during the transferring process and was now perched on top of the exposed ventillation ducts in the classroom. Great.

By this time, there was no hiding anything from the families. They arrived and eyed me suspiciously as I hauled the ladder from one end of the building to the other, setting it up, climbing up, poking around with the inflatable hockey stick I'd attached to the light bulb changer only to have the bird take off and start the process over. 45 minutes later when we had completed the preparations of our final strategy--attaching a trashbag with rubberbands to the broom handle like a butterfly net from a horror flick--, the bird (tired, I'm sure) landed on a window sill where I tackled it to the ground with my BARE HANDS! (Maybe not so much of a tackle as a gentle closing of my cupped hands, followed by the mild panic of having a wild bird entrapped in my cupped hands) I raced--without jiggling--out the door and to the park where I opened my hands to let the traumatized bird free under a tree. And the stupid thing didn't even touch the ground, it flew straight to a tree on the other side of the city! Baby bird who can't fly, I grumbled to myself as I stomped back into work to my to-do list now 45 minutes behind schedule. Some can't wake up without a cup of coffee. I never seem to have that problem.

Apple Deliciousness

Laura and Mike came to visit this weekend. We had a rather relaxing weekend, and made it out to pick apples. Elinore loves "helping". Hopefully she didn't eat too many leaves! Laura, I hope you got some good apples at Crane's!! I'm sorry we didn't get to eat at Pietro's while you were here. We'll make sure to do it next time: long wait or not. It was great to see you both and get to know the "healthy" Mike a little better!

Elinore's new word is "Tickle, tickle, tickle,..."
 

Playing Grown Up

Every once in a while I take a look around and wonder what on earth I am doing where I am. Mainly it happens when I get an invitation in the mail to another friend's wedding or a birth announcement. And then, in my shock, I yell at the empty room, "We are too young to be getting married and having babies! WE ARE NOT READY!!" And then I think to myself, "Correction: I am not ready (but then CLEARLY neither is anyone else!)"

And then sometimes my head starts spinning at the amount of responsibility I'm entrusted with at work and I begin to feel an awkward sense of importance. Like today, I interviewed a candidate for the center director position who just resigned as a high school Spanish teacher. Hellooooo! I interviewed a high school teacher, who is in the same ranks with my former teachers, who if I ran into on the street today I would still address as Mr. Heup or Mrs. Baldikoski!

Not to worry, the sense of importance is never inflated because usually I am humbled by other moments. Like falling down the stairs as I dole out parenting advise, or making the parent of a child with severe allergy go through all the rig-a-marole of paperwork, legal documentation, and one-on-one training of epi-pen procedures with the WRONG teacher, etc.

It is nice to know, however, that I am not alone. I caught up with a friend this weekend who started medical school 6 weeks ago. Their first role play was doing patient interviews to gather preliminary information. The instructor went around the room to each student with a certain case and the student was to ask the right questions to gather all the necessary info. After all these vanilla cases (I have a sore throat, there's a floater in my eye, etc) he got to my friend. When she asked what brought him in today, he said, "It hurts when I go to the bathroom." And my sweet, ridiculously intelligent, aspiring-doctor friend burst out laughing. And as soon as she had stifled her giggles she said to herself, "I am too immature to be a doctor."

Which brings me to my conclusion--that it is not real afterall. We really are just pretending to be adults.

Matching Socks

I feel like it is never too early to introduce a child to helping with household tasks. One of Elinore's duties is to match socks. Everytime I fold laundry, she is in charge of all the socks. She takes her job very seriously.

Correction: CHIRIMOYA

I wrote to all of my Chilean friends last night to wish them a happy September 18, tell them about my amazing find, and ask them what to do with it.

EVERY ONE of them wrote me back first to correct my spelling--it is CHIRIMOYA not cherimoya-- then to tell me that the best way is to cut it into little pieces and mix it with freshly squeezed orange juice. Since they were unanimous, I'm obligated to eat the next one that way. Apparently they call this dessert "chirimoya alegre"--the happy chirimoya.

Good luck to me. Too bad there's no one to share it with!

Catalina and the Cherimoya

Last time I was in Chile my hostmom asked me if there was anything special I wanted to see, do, or eat while I was there. I told her I wanted to eat a real live cherimoya. A cherimoya is a tropical fruit that I had never heard of until arriving in Chile, and even then, it was elusive. I tasted the flavor in ice cream, yogurt, popsicles, etc, but never had even seen the real fruit. So last time I was in Chile, it was summer and my hostmom went out in search of cherimoya to no avail. There were none to be found as it is apparently a delicate fruit that is ripe in the early summer months (late November, early December in Chile).

This evening while roaming around the plain old grocery store (Jewel for those of you who know) I stumbled across a basket of this UGLY fruit labeled Cherimoya!! I couldn't believe my eyes, and on top of that, today is Chilean Independence Day!! It was destiny. The label on the cherimoya said "ripe when slightly soft," so I picked what I thought would be a good one, then picked another just in case. At the checkout, they rang up at $3.99 a piece, and I thought to myself, these better be DELICIOUS!

But when I got home, I realized I had no clue what to actually do with the thing. I looked up online how to prepare them, and it told me to halve it lengthwise and then scoop the creamy, delicious flesh out with a spoon. So I did, and despite the many, enormous black seeds, it was good and so fragrant! Its about the size of a large pear, and tastes a bit like fresh papaya, but is super creamy. I ate half and put the other half in the freezer to eat like ice cream tomorrow. But I still have this whole other cherimoya. Maybe I'll make a cherimoya smoothy? What a great Chilean day!

A Day in the Life of Me

Today during one of the 10:30 classes for 3-5 year olds, I had to intervene in a class where a tiny girl was hysterical over her nanny having left. Often you can distract children and calm them down, but this little girl would not be distracted--she was SCREAMING and kicking and crying, and I finally had to physically hold her in my lap while we waited for someone to call the nanny and the nanny to pick her up.

While kicking and screaming, she peed on my leg.

Does anybody want to trade lives?

Soooo Cute!!!

 

Warning Signs

This morning while vigorously brushing my teeth, my toothbrush vicously catapulted a speck of tooth paste into my eye. It actually hurt A LOT. I considered calling Poison Control, but Colleen told me not to, and she IS a crisis counselor after all.

Then on the El I picked up my Chicago Reader before getting on the train, and subsequently got so sucked into the story about Hugh Hefner and his 3 pixie girlfriends that I missed my stop!

It's only 8:36. Going to be an interesting day...

Back to School

I have returned to Albion once more for my junior year and although my first week of classes went successfully, I have not yet departed the super stressed out train. As you all know I am applying to go abroad to Scotland in the Spring and I have needed to get the required signatures from various faculty members in order to turn in the application. Let me just say that it is not going well. I don't think I've ever been more frustrated with people. Before I even got back to Albion I had emailed professors letting them know I wanted to set up a meeting as soon as possible and each one told me to email them at the start of school. So I did, but to no avail. Once again it is not until I get pushy that I get responses from the professors. I even went to their offices to find out their office hours and it wasn't until I told them I would be coming to their next class to set up an appointment did they respond with a time in which I could meet with them. AHHHHHHHH! I'm beginning to feel like I won't be able to get the application completed and it's not because I haven't tried. Hopefully things will start coming together soon.

With that said my classes are going relatively well. My first day of Spanish, my former roommate Jill and I were sitting together when our professor walked in and says: Hola clase...and continued in super fast Spanish, Jill and I looked at each other and both go Oh crap. She told us that the first day was the last day she would speak english to us and as worried as I was, it's not that bad. I'm acing spanish class, having gotten 2 extra credit points for helping my team to victory in spanish charades. I know I'm amazing, just kidding. The nice thing about it, is that we do a LOT of discussion and interactive stuff in spanish getting you comfortable speaking, which let's face it I'm NOT comfortable with. The only thing I wish we did more of is vocabulary. I am finding that my lack of Spanish classes for the past 3 years has greatly depleted my vocabulary abilities, but it is slowly coming back to me.

I found it rather ironic that the class that's the most interesting in lecture, developmental psychology, has the most BORING textbook, and the class that has a pretty boring lecture, Neuroscience, has a pretty interesting book. Typical at least I'll be able to follow one part of the material in each class haha.

Then comes my invertebrate zoology class. It's fascinating, one of our textbooks talks about parasites and what not and it's absolutely disgusting but it is just amazing!! However, a great portion of our grade for the class relies on a group collection project. We have to collect a list of specimens from the field, all bugs, kill them and then mount them and present to the class. I am having a really hard time with this one. First of all I'd rather not have to catch bugs and usually I don't mind squashing a mosquito or spider but I feel so terrible about putting them in killing solution and watching them die. So bad in fact, that this weekend I caught a beetle but I don't have my ID card coded for 24 hr access to the science building yet, as it wasn't available until yesterday, and I felt so bad about keeping it in a jar for 2 days that I let it go. I don't think I would make a very good invertebrate zoologist.

My roommate situation is going pretty well so far, but we will not be rooming together again as I have spoken to one of my good friends from bio and we are planning to live together WOOHOO!! My roommate told me the day she moved in that she likes to move stuff around a lot and I told her I didn't care as long as I was able to use the internet, which meant being close to the only ethernet jack in the apt. So her solution was to get us wireless, works for me. She isn't around much as she has a very busy schedule being a chemistry major and very active in the theater technology dept. One thing I could definitely pass on is the hamster, Twink, that she brought to school with her. I am SO glad we never had one of these things. They smell, make a mess and the stupid thing bit me, not to mention that it feels the best time to play in it's squeaky wheel is right when we go to bed.

I am working really hard to be more organized this semester and getting stuff done, actually reading my textbooks and working out regularly. Being a week and almost 1/2 into school I'd say it's going well. Let's hope I can keep it that way!