Land of Lakes and Volcanoes

I am working from home again today, and I once again ran into a situation where I could have greatly benefited from a safety pin. I didn't have one, much like the millions of other times I haven't had one. Unfortunately, safety pins are one of those things I forget to buy every time I'm at the store, and I hate going to the store just for some tiny silly item. At that moment I longed for Nicaragua because had I been there, I could have carried on with my day, and eventually someone would have wandered by selling Rolex knock-offs, flashlights, pencil sharpeners, fruit, fish, soap, and eventually safety pins.

I have recently discovered TED , and I want to share it with you. This is some rather excellent video of bioluminescent organisms and camouflaging cephalopods.

I walked the dog this morning and I'm trying to work from home. The light struggling through my large windows can only be described as watery, like a Kate Chopin novel. It makes me melancholy. It's a missing, melancholy day. When the light has no color and seems to barely be performing its function, I become very sad. I start to think of all the people I'd like to be with that I am not, and I think What a waste. Incidentally , Garrison Keillor and the nostalgic style of PHC aren't helping either.

I put up my Christmas tree last weekend, but I didn't get a chance to post pics until now. It's kind of an homage to my mother. She made a lot of the ornaments on the tree, as well as the Christmas tree skirt. I bought the angel on top. I know the pic with the lights is fuzzy, but the pic with the flash just doesn't show its loveliness very well. And here are some ornaments she made out of macaroni, no less. There's an angel and some bows. They are painted in gold and silver and then adorned. She could make anything out of anything. Then she also made a variety of decorated Christmas balls: Christmas colors: Part of a green and purple set she made for me a few years ago: Some variegated:

I am teaching myself to knit, I think mostly because I want to do something with my hands that doesn't remind me so very much of my mom. So, I'll do this for a while, and then I'm sure, return to crochet, or tatting, or cross-stitch. I kind of cycle through. Anyway, this is my first dishcloth, in which I learned to cast on, knit, purl, and bind off in knit and purl. Incidentally, I also learned how to correct a mistake (lots) and pick up a dropped stitch (just once or twice).

I posted on Facebook that I was applying to grad school, and I did that because unless people know about stuff, I often wimp out on it. However... I'm nervous about giving too much away because what IF I DON'T GET IN?? I have employment backup, thanks to West Coast Boss, and yet, public rejection elicits a full-body cringing OUCH. Still, I'm excited, and despite my more pessimistic nature, I'm hopeful. So here's the skinny. There's a program at U of the Desert that seems like a great fit. It's also where Long-distance Boyfriend is located, which is important if I ever want Long-distance Boyfriend to become No-distance Husband. The program is an MA in English, requiring that I take at least a couple literature classes (not the worst thing for a bibliophile). The specialty to which I am applying is Rhetoric and Writing, and one of the purposes of the MA is to prepare people with a content background to become professional writers or editors. It's po

Susan G at Daily Kos points out this sentence from Barack Obama's weekly web address. Will your job or your husband’s job or your daughter’s job be the next one cut? Then she says why this matters better than I could: Read that closely. In a speech about universal fears and hardship, he is addressing his primary listeners as women . Never have I heard sentence construction like that from a president -- women addressed directly in a non-"women's issues" setting as legitimate, fully fledged and very concerned and invested breadwinners. The effect is stunning.

The first meeting of the Hot Hobbyists of Columbia was successful. I finally finished this scarf. I usually use tassels, but this time I decided to try a scalloped edging since the scarf is shorter and will be used more like a muffler.

Homemade dinner for one.

Money complicates everything, even death. Clearly not for the departed, but for the ones left behind. Most of you know that my mom died in November, and that is obviously hard, and the last thing we want to think about is money. The realities of life don't allow for that, and it's a mixed bag - fighting with insurance companies about both health and life insurance benefits, cutting through the red tape of military and social security benefits, trying to make sense of an unexpected windfall, and gracefully accepting the generosity of others. The first two are pretty familiar hassles, and I won't go into them, but the second two are proving more difficult to deal with emotionally - I think just because they weren't anticipated. Specifically the last one has left me making some tough decisions. My family isn't in a good financial situation, and people know that having a loved one in the hospital and then ill for a long time is expensive, not to mention the funeral

This are my feet on winter. Note the awesome slipper socks sent by Amazing Friend from the Far North. Note that they are also being worn over another pair of socks.

Click to read a larger version.

Some people have asked me about letting my blog languish. The short answer is that a lot has been going on, and it hasn't been stuff I've particularly wanted to share with the public. However, not to worry, I've been making notes about some of the weird stuff that's been happening, and some of that will make it's way onto here, as well as any new and interesting events. I'm getting back into the swing of things.

**I'm not in PC anymore, but I'm leaving the PC content up, so I feel like the warning should stay posted somewhere too.** The views and opinions stated on this page are solely my own and do not represent those of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or any of its partner organizations.

So there's this tree across the street from my house that is a fungus mansion. Some photos friends: The fungal garden. These look like pieces of bread with jam on them. This fungus looked like mushrooms, but they were growing directly out of the side of the tree. And finally, the fungal garden at the bottom of the tree looked like bundles of flowers growing in various stages: Baby fungus. Bloomin' (not really, cuz they're not plants.) After their peak.

Today I needed to go pick up something from my boss's house, and he asked if I would bring a bunch of books from his office for him to pack up. I didn't mind at all, but figured this would go better with a cart or dolly. I got a cart, loaded it up, and wheeled it across the Wardlaw courtyard. Sounds genius, right? Not so much. With every bump, at least 1 book fell, and so I kept having to stop and pick something up. I felt ridiculous. There was a girl in the courtyard talking on her cellphone, a bunch of academic types walking all around me, and no one even looked at me with sympathy. I get as far as I can go, to the edge of the curb, about 20 feet from my car. While trying to pick up a stack of books, things started to slide and basically almost all of them hit the ground. there were quite a few people on the nearby sidewalk, all of them just walking by and sort of gawking at me. Finally, two men pass by and asked me if I need help, and not only do they stop the immin

I know I'm behind, but hey this "I was in Nicaragua" excuse should be good for at least a period of time equivalent to how long I was gone. Therefore, I'd like to say that I just really discovered Josh Ritter, and I LOVE him. Some select lyrics from To the Dogs Or Whoever Deep in the belly of a whale I found her Down with the deep blue jail around her Running her hands through the ribs of the dark Florence and Calamity and Joan of Arc I love the way she looks in her underwear I lose my page then the plot then the book then I swear She makes the most of her time by loving me plenty She knows there’ll come a day when we won’t be getting any Oh bring me the love that can sweeten a sword A boat that can love the rocks or the shore The love of the iceberg reaching out for a wreck Can you love me like the crosses love the nape of the neck?

I found it rather difficult to find time to blog during our road trip, and on top of that I couldn't have posted pictures because I was an idiot who left my camera cable in SC. So, here's a lovely photo blog of what we did. Western Louisiana on the way out West. VERY flat, but green. Muenster, Texas. Yes, those doll things do move. The house where my mom grew up. Her street. I find it so strange that my mom grew up in the suburbs in the late 50s/60s. When you hear my dad's stories from the same time period, they were just getting indoor plumbing. It must have been a really strange transition for her. Her street also now has a Buddhist Temple. Pretty, but unexpected. The recreation of the falls in Wichita Falls. A flood wiped out the original falls. The Texas panhandle. Trevor with his new friend at the Albuquerque aquarium. My amazing shrimp picture. The Sandia Tramway. You go from the bottom to the top of the Sandias in about 15 minutes. It's lovely. My mom an

First, I am still driving around in a rental car because they still aren't done fixing my car from what I thought was a relatively minor fender bender. Apparently not. Here are some pics of my car after it got backed into. They are replacing that back side panel, so they have to replace the panel and paint it and everything. I guess that takes a while. As a result, I may not get the car back in time to take it to get serviced this week, which means my mom and I might not be able to leave for our roadtrip until the 20th, 2 days later than planned. Speaking of the roadtrip, I think I'll have the occasional chance to update and post pics. Hope so anyway. ************************************************************************************* Also, tomorrow I get my second tattoo. I wanted to get it before I went to Albuquerque so TJ can see it. I'm nervous because this one will be a little bigger. I am getting it done at the Purple Lotus and Shavon does beautiful work.

So Briana said I might have something interesting to offer - my view of the US after 7 months in Nicaragua. I honestly can't imagine how coming back would be after two years. Here's some of the weirdness I have noticed. 1. Grocery stores are large terrifying places. I know that I used to go to La Union every now and then, but in the US, the sheer variety of things is overwhelming. There's 600 kinds of everything, all in full fat, low fat, non-fat and with infinite tiny flavor alterations. Would you like black bean dip, chipotle black bean dip, or lime chipotle black bean dip? I don't know, where are the beans, I'll make my own!! My old sensation of being paralyzed in the grocery store is back, but it's a million times worse now. 2. I'm still dreaming in Spanish. I actually kind of like that since I'm not practicing Spanish much during my waking hours. However, this can lead to serious cognitive dissonance when suddenly awakened from Spanish wor

That last week was a bit of a blur and a bunch of the stuff I did that week never made it to the web, so today I was feeling homesick, listening to music from Nicaragua and looking at pictures and I thought it really would be a shame if no one saw these. In no particular order… One of the beautiful folkloric dances that some of the elementary school girls performed at my going away party with the teachers. My original counterpart organized them and they practiced just for the occasion and everything. They looked beautiful and they made me cry. Yes, that is a man in a coconut tree. He was climbing them to pull down coconuts and dead branches with no tools to speak of. He just climbed up there with bare feet and hands. I watched him go up and down about 3 teams. It was impressive. The kids from my host family in the mango tree in front of the house. I miss that crazy bunch of kids. Tereza at my going away party at Caballito’s Mar that last evening. We ate slightly unripe, stolen m