Snow in the Foothills

For a brief two-hour period, there was snow in the Foothills of Mt. Baker. I had been swaddled in blankets watching television when it started to hail. Then the hail came down slower. Then slower yet. Soon there were large flakes settling to the ground, pressing against the deck-railings, clumping up in the flower boxes. I was sad to see the snow melt away before 2PM, but I expect we'll have a few more sudden storms in the weeks ahead.

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It's still a bit hard to talk and turn my head. I'm slowly starting to push it, as my surgeon had recommended. He didn't want me walking around with hunched up shoulders. Meredith frowns at me everytime she sees me walking with my shoulders arched up. She'll stare me down and tell me to relax my right shoulder. I've been deprived of Hershey's Kisses for not following her commands.

The dog seems to know something's up, too. He's been resting his head on my knee a lot. He's also been good about not waking me up too early in the morning. I do suspect that the sudden turn in the weather has more to do with this . . .

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I'm back in the classroom today, though it's still tough for me to move around. I'm giving out mid-quarter exams, so I won't be speaking much. I just hate missing time, as I mentioned in an earlier blog. It screws up the whole calendar.

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I filled out a Marketing Questionnaire this weekend . . . that's all I'm saying. ;-)

Post-Op

For those of you who were wondering, I'm fine. I'm home now, and I'm as comfortable as I can be, given the circumstances. The surgery took longer than originally anticipated (add an hour and a half to the two-hour estimate). The compliment from the surgeon was that I had a lot of well-defined muscles in that region which made it hard to operate.

The night at the hospital sucked. It's hard to sleep when your head's elevated and you've got nurses checking your vitals every hour. Lucky for me, my parents and Meredith were around regularly. I basically watched a lot of Top Chef and drank a lot of clear liquids. Marcel is a jerk.

Anesthesia's a funny thing. I remember smelling the ether-smell. Then I remember looking at what appeared to be a drop-ceiling with the texture holes. I remember hearing the anesthesiologist telling me to breathe deeply, and then I remember seeing the dots and holes in the drop-ceiling whiz back like I was seeing them blur by from a car window. Then I'm out.

I hope to see some of you at UW this Thursday. By that time I should be able to move and function better. I'll probably not read too much. I don't want to get fatigued. Anyway, I'm perfectly fine. Thanks for asking.

UW Poetry Reading

A Poetry Reading on the campus of the University of Washington.

Thursday, November 2

3:30-5:00 PM

Johnson Hall Room 175

Poets Reading:

Rick Barot, author of The Darker Fall
Oliver de la Paz, author of Names Above Houses
Rigoberto Gonzalez, author of Butterfly Boy, Crossing Vines, and So Often the Pitcher Goes to Water Until It Breaks

The reading is sponsored by the Department of American Ethnic Studies and the English Creative Writing Program.

The World Series

So it's the Cards vs. the Tigers. Baseball is alive and well in the Midwest. I'm actually rooting for the Tigers, 'cause I like Jim Leland.

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Lyric in my head:

"One shot, one beer, and a kiss before I go."

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I was floored by the outcome of Project Runway. I thought Michael's stuff was totally disappointing and overly "hoochie." I thought Laura's pieces were gorgeous but predictable, and I thought Uli's stuff was going to win. But I think, in the end, Jeffrey won the vote because he KNEW what his point of view was and he could articulate his aesthetic the most effectively. I didn't like his clothes so much, but he knows his audience and he knows who he is as a designer.

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I'm slowly becoming addicted to Battlestar Gallactica.

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I love wearing Fall clothes. Scarves, yes. Elegant wool jackets, yes. Knitted caps, yes.

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Should I watch "Flicka" or "Flags of Our Fathers"? I'm still puzzled about a piece of dialogue from the "Flicka" trailor. So the wife of the father tells the father that he is like his daughter. . . At some point, someone tells the daughter or says the daughter is like the horse . . . therefore, does that make the father a horse?

The film I REALLY would rather see that isn't here is "Marie Antoinette." I curse this rural life-style.

Surgery

So . . . I have to go in for surgery. It's not a big deal, or so I've been told, but it's still surgery. Yuck. What I'm most concerned about is the recovery time. I hate being bed-ridden. Anyway, I think I've got my classes managed. Gosh, I really really hate messing with syllabus calendars.

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Still listening to Alt-Country. Currently spinning Neko Case's "Fox Confessor . . ."

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Project Runway tonight. I hope Jeffrey doesn't get kicked off because he out-sourced. A big part of me believes he IS that fast with a needle and a thread.

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It's been a busy academic year for reading appearances. I've got one coming up at UW on Nov. 2nd with Rigo and Rick. I've also got a few in the Winter and the Spring. Oh happy day.

The new Beck album . . .

. . . has stickers!!!!!

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Re-spin on the iPod = Ryan Adams & the Cardinals, "Magnolia Mountain"

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honky-tonk |ˈhä ng kē ˌtä ng k; ˈhô ng kē ˌtô ng k| noun informal 1 a cheap or disreputable bar, club, or dancehall, typically where country music is played : country bands at highway honky-tonks. • [as adj. ] squalid and disreputable : a honky-tonk beach resort. 2 country music : good-time urban cowboy fare with a hint of honky-tonk and a healthy measure of rock. 3 [often as adj. ] ragtime piano music. verb [ intrans. ] listen to or dance to country music : come on, let's go honky-tonking. ORIGIN late 19th cent.: of unknown origin.

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Going to work on the well with the neighbors tomorrow. I'm a county boy, now.

Waltz, Foxtrot, Rumba . . .

My parents are taking dancing lessons. Initially, this was an embarassing point. The thought of my father "sweeping" my mother off her feet had originally made me want to hide. But now, I'm getting used to the fact that my parents have a life outside of my own. I suppose I've been going through this phase as a married man, where I recognize the necessity for a private moment with one's soul mate.

I swear, growing up, I had never seen my parents hold hands, let alone kiss. Now, whenever I see them walking side by side, they're hand-in-hand. Oh don't get me wrong . . . my dad still tries to shout conversations with me while I'm speaking with my mother on the phone. They still have their tiffs, their spats, their disagreements. But now, I can see them as a married couple and not just my parents.

I tried calling them tonight, but I then remembered it's dance night. I'll call tomorrow.

Some poems of mine online

. . . in the new issue of Siren: Clicky

AWP here I come . . .

Spent the better half of the morning getting all the forms together so that my department can pay my way to the AWP conference. I had to fill out blue forms that weren't blue, pink forms that weren't pink . . . Anyway, I'm looking forward to going as I do every year.

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I'm finally getting settled into my quarter. The first week's always messy with students dropping, adding, scrambling for books and spaces.

I've got a routine now, and it seems to be working for me. My summer was too good to me, you know? Now I've got to rein in my scattered brain. I had spent a lot of time thinking about my own poems, writing my own poems, now it's time to give.

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I'm sad I'll be missing Patrick's book launch party. It'll be a lot of fun for many lucky duckies.

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Finally, Project Runway is on tonight and I'm DVR'ing it again. I think it's a gripe-fest night . . . we'll see.

Been slammed . . .

Sorry all. I've been slammed by the start of the new Fall quarter and I've been trying to get things up and running. On top of that, I've got several projects on the hot plate.

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The Seahawks stunk it up yesterday. I fell asleep during the game. Not good. Not good at all.

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We invited all our neighbors over for a Southern meal: Grilled Pork Loin, Collards, Baked Mac & Cheese, Cornbread . . . It was quite tasty. We were up way past our bedtimes and that messed with our sleep patterns for the rest of the weekend (see above).

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I've resolved to get all my classes prepped a week in advance. We'll see how long THAT lasts.