The Life of Almond

Information Imposition

2004-08-27T17:42:00.000-04:00

As an information professional in training, I’m happy to help out friends when their problems fall under my realm of expertise. Most of the time, these are questions that can be answered when I have a few free minutes here and there, almost always under an hour of work. I’ve helped Paul figure out that one of his books was not a first edition, and helped roommates find source material for research papers. So when a fairly recent acquaintance found out what I did and asked if I could help him out with a question he had, I told him to let me know what he needed, figuring it would be something along the lines of a standard reference question. He sent me this email:

Well, I have done some research on my own regarding hairstyling services thatare delivered to hospitals and at home; also, I have compared my statistics tothose of more classic salons/barber shops. However, I would like to to findthese for me again (different person to do it is good too). Additionally, Iwould greatly appreciate to know whether you could find some statisticsregarding the cost structure of existing salons/ chain of salons, as well assome statistics regarding the workforce (how many hairdressers,trends/forecasts in hiring, how much do they make, how many schools for thatacross the country, license to become a hairdresser/stylist/manicure/etc.)

I thought this was a bit much, especially considering that this person has not even crossed the line from acquaintance to friend (and probably won’t). We’re talking many hours worth of work in rather boring, extremely specialized databases. There was no way I was going to do this in my free time. I thought about giving him my research rates, and seeing if he wanted to hire me to do it, but decided that it wasn’t worth giving up my Saturday. So I told him to go to the B-School library, where someone will show him how to find the information, and leave him to spend hours poring through statistics himself.

I have to give him credit for having the guts to ask someone he barely knows to take on such a large project gratis, but I still had no qualms about unequivocally shooting him down.

Michigander Reflections

2004-08-26T19:35:00.000-04:00

This was easily the most gorgeous route we've ever done. Northern Michigan is incredibly beautiful.

I didn't train as much as I needed to, especially on the hills. Next year, I will be seeking out more rolling terrain in preparation for the ride. This was definitely a harder ride for me than previous years, partly because of my lack of training, but also because of my stupid body's inability to stay healthy.

We seemed to have a good mix of people. Those who chose to skip out were missed, but the new additions fit in well.

304 miles are now behind me. It was a good ride, and I'm already looking forward to next year (if I don't have a job).

Michigander Day 6, Harbor Springs to Mackinaw City, 45 miles

2004-08-26T19:33:00.000-04:00

The last day of the Michigander started out cold. It was great for sleeping, but not so much for getting out of my warm cozy sleeping bag. Breakfast lived up to the expectations set by the previous dinner, so it took a bit longer than normal to get us out of the cafeteria. People were definitely looking around the campsite wistfully as we packed up, rather reluctant to think about going back to the real world. The temperature was 53° according to the sign out front as we were heading out. I stubbornly refused to put on my ugly running pants, but did throw on a long sleeve t-shirt and jacket over my jersey. We didn’t get to ride down the hill we came up the day before, but they did take us along Bluff Rd, looking down on the lake. Had to stop for a Kodak moment, of course. After the first couple miles of hills, I was able to take off the t-shirt, but wasn’t quite ready to lose the jacket.
We headed into the Tunnel of Trees, a gorgeous shaded highway running next to the lake. It even had a free downhill – we were able to go almost ½ mile without pedaling, and didn’t have to go back up at the end of it. After the Tunnel of Trees, the scenery got much less interesting, and we had to ride a few miles on hilly blacktop roads without a whole lot of shade and too much wind. I can tell that I’m much stronger than when I started this trip, though. Plus, I know that today is really short, so I tried not to whine as much.
The last 10 miles of the day were some of my favorite of the whole trip. For the first time, we were on a dirt trail that wasn’t much more than two wide ruts in the tall grass on either side. Those are my favorite kinds of trail to ride, so I was quite happy zooming along. However, true to Michigander form, the organizers were a little off in their mileage calculations. When my odometer hit 43.2 miles, the supposed stopping point, there was no end of the trail in sight. We wound up at 45 miles when we cruised through the finish line.
Finishing the Michigander is an experience. If you didn’t feel enough of a sense of accomplishment, at the end you ride under a banner while earlier riders and friends and family cheer you on. One of the strongest riders, Sam, a large, muscular man, is always there, waving a checkered flag and blowing on a whistle, while wearing not much more than a speedo. Add the song “Eye of the Tiger” blaring from a sound system, and you’re feeling pretty pumped as you finish up.
We were done about noon, and had about 4 hours to kill before the bus would leave to take us back to Big Rapids. We managed to meet up with everyone from our clique, and snapped a ton of pictures. They were all leaving to go straight home, so we were left on our own. Luckily, there were showers available, so we could clean up and grab a piece of the end-of-the-ride cake. The nice thing about ending so early is that I was actually off my bike when Paul called. He had been leaving me encouraging messages all week, but there hadn’t been a whole lot of time to chat.
By the time that all got taken care of, I was ready to gnaw off my arm, so we headed into downtown Mackinaw to find some food. Of course, one can’t leave Mackinaw without acquiring fudge for all the poor souls at home. The free samples in the fudge shops also made this a necessary stop. I also managed to find myself a baseball hat. This is something I had been searching for for a few years, but could never find one that looked right. And finally, my search is over. After a short nap in the sun next to my rapidly melting fudge, the buses finally showed up. It was about a 3 hour ride back to Big Rapids. I spent most of it asleep, having managed to keep two whole seats to myself. Once back to the starting point, we loaded up our van and set out for home.
We hit a Subway in a gas station for dinner. Someone was occupying the women’s bathroom when I sought it out, so I patiently waited outside the door. A few minutes later, a burly guy strolls out. I peek my head in the door, see the toilet completely plugged up, and head straight into the (empty) men’s room. *grumble grumble*
I cheered up again after food was consumed, and even volunteered to drive for a while. I’m not really sure what I was thinking. I don’t really like to drive in the first place. Driving a minivan with 3 bikes on the back is much different than my little Civic. It was also getting dark, and about a billion trucks were on the road. My shoulders were very tense, and my knuckles were very white, and I was very relieved when we had to stop for gas and I could relinquish the wheel. Some more sleeping in the car occurred during the rest of the trip.
We finally got home around 11. I pretty much dumped my bags on the floor, cuddled my cat, and headed up to bed. A real bed! Hooray!

Michigander Day 5, Bellaire to Harbor Springs, 54.44 miles

2004-08-10T22:23:00.000-04:00

Despite coming back to the tent really late and really drunk, the guy in the tent behind me was up and making a lot of noise at 5:30. He seemed fairly chipper, but I was quite tired and cranky. Having hot chocolate available at breakfast brightened my mood a bit.
The first 25 miles was all hills, which was kind of mean. It’s nice to have at least a mile or 2 to warm up before they start throwing the hard stuff at you. On the plus side, I finally figured out my secret to biking well. It turns out that all my fatigue and queasiness and general wimpy qualities was due to not eating enough. That’s why I always felt a lot better after lunch. Armed with this knowledge, and a whole bunch of apples, bananas, and power bars, I was able to start holding my own a little bit better.
The first real town we passed through was Charlevoix, a nice resort area that was setting up for a festival. They had pony rides! Alas, I decided it would be better not to take advantage of that particular attraction, given the sorry state of my rear end. I did have to make a stop in a corner drugstore to replace my sunglasses, as my trusty fake Oakleys finally bit the dust. They had served me well and will be much missed. My new ones aren’t nearly as cool, but I wasn’t feeling too picky at the time.
Leaving Charlevoix, the hills finally ended and we wound up on a paved trail along Lake Michigan. This is probably the nicest scenery we’ve had on any of the trips. It was postcard-perfect. I forced my parents to stop for lunch at Wendy’s outside of Petosky. We usually try to avoid fast food, but we were being routed along the outside of town, and future lunch prospects looked dim. And there was no way I was going to wait until we got to Harbor Springs, even though it was only 10 miles away.
The trail and the view continued to be gorgeous, but the downside to riding along the lake became apparent as we got closer to our goal. The headwinds were kicking our butts. The houses along the lake were enormous and tastefully landscaped. The owners must have been gasping in horror at the unwashed masses riding into town. Just when we thought we were almost to the school, we turned right to see a giant hill looming before us. In lowest gear, with the wind in our faces, we struggled up to the top. Just before the peak, my heart sank to see an arrow pointing right. We turned the corner with zero momentum, only to see that the climb wasn’t over. Some bikers that had gotten in earlier were walking down the hill, shouting encouragement, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Figuring out how to breathe seemed like the higher priority. Luckily the school was only a block past the hill, and we could collapse fairly soon afterward. We actually beat John and Ben in, which is pretty rare. Cathy and Sarah already had our spot staked out, their bags and bikes spread out to keep other campers away.
We all headed down to the beach, but John and I were the only ones to actually get wet. And I kind of regretted it. It wasn’t that warm of an afternoon and there was a constant breeze. Everyone wanted to stroll around the town a bit, so I had to shiver for a while. But it was worth it when we passed by the fudge shop. We snuck in to grab free samples without buying anything, and then wandered over to a glass blowing shop to watch a demo. I was happy. It was warm in there.
For the first time this trip, I put on jeans after my shower. It was nice to be cool after a string of 90° days. The sweatshirt I put on later to go downtown was even better.
Dinner was probably the highlight of the entire trip. We had heard rumors (which turned out to be correct) that the caterer was the same one that had cooked in Mackinaw City last year, a meal which has become legend. They did not disappoint. It was food that I would order in a nice restaurant. You have to admire a group that will do roast beef, portabella mushroom ravioli, and real green beans for 600 people. Plus a make-your-own sundae bar for dessert.
At the beginning of the week, John had given everyone in the group a Lance Band, so we finally got around to taking a group picture with everyone showing theirs off. Mom and I had been wearing ours around our ankles, as they were way too big for our wrists.
After that, we headed back downtown. There were people singing on street corners, which was fun. This was all city-sponsored of course. Real street performers aren't classy enough for Harbor Springs. We wandered into trendy boutiques and pretended like we could afford to breathe on the clothes. Then we were off to the docks to ogle the yachts. The guys wandered off to get more ice cream before we headed back to our last night of sleeping on the ground.

Michigander Day 4, Traverse City to Bellaire, 50 miles

2004-08-09T22:45:00.000-04:00

The people around us slept later than usual, allowing us to do the same. When I stepped outside the tent, I noticed a bad omen. Everything was dry. Usually, dew collects on the outside of the tent and the bikes. If nothing was even damp at 6am, the rest of the day was bound to be scorching hot. Given my dehydration 2 days before, my paranoia kicked in.
We had been hearing horror stories about Bunker Hill, on the way out of Traverse City. Evidently, locals go miles out of the way to avoid riding up it. It didn’t seem like a good way to start the day. It turned out not to be so bad. A few miles later was the killer hill. There wasn’t a downhill to get up any momentum, and I was in my lowest gear before I was halfway up. It was the kind of hill where you just have to stare at your feet and concentrate on each pedal movement. Looking up to see how far you have left to go is way too depressing.
Fairly early on, the heat started to kick in, and I started to feel sick. The route was all blacktop, hills, and wind, with no shade on the road. I had to stop a few times and have someone pour water down my neck. I was ecstatic when we got to Torch Lake. There was a boat launch right next to the road, so a few of us waded in. I went in up to my knees, the bent over and dunked my head under. It was one of the high points of the day.
But by the time we got to Alden, where we stopped for lunch, we were slogging again. Luckily, the Kountry Kitchen was air conditioned. We weren’t really surprised to see the thermometer outside reading 89°. True to form, I started feeling much better after lunch, despite the constant sweating, numerous hills, and periodic stops to pour water down my back. The last 12 miles into Bellaire weren’t so bad.
Once again, we had excellent timing getting into camp. We set up our tents, and were just about to head down to the beach when we got warning that a storm was expected soon. So we battened down the hatches, grabbed our shower stuff and some reading material, and headed into the school.
Our good luck with showers had finally run out. All but 2 in the locker room were ice cold. People rotated through the warm ones – stepping in to rinse off, then out to soap up, etc. It was truly a group shower. We picked the cafeteria as our default hang out spot. I started a crossword puzzle, but before long my head was down and I was trying to disguise that fact that I was drooling on the table.
After dinner we decided to try to take advantage of the lull in the rain to check out the town of Bellaire. After a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up some spf 30 chapstick for my poor sunburned lips, we headed over to the important place: the ice cream parlor. Ben, being from Arizona, had never experienced the joys of Moose Tracks ice cream, which has become a Michigander staple. We got stuck there on extremely hard benches, which weren’t great for sore behinds, as the rain started up again.
When we got back to camp, John realized that he had left his camp chairs set up. Oops. The puddles could have comfortably housed a couple of goldfish. At least he had acquired some ziplock bags for his stuff. Unfortunately, Sarah hadn’t planned ahead either. The rain fly on their brand new tent had broken, dumping all the water into the center of the tent. Sarah spent most of the evening holding her clothes in front of a blow dryer. The rain stopped pretty early, so sleeping was much better than in the previous storm.

Michigander Day 3, Benzonia to Traverse City, 58.78 miles

2004-08-09T17:16:00.000-04:00

People are perpetually tired on the Michigander. Getting up at dawn and riding 50-plus miles tends to wear people out. And it's even worse when you get woken up in the middle of the night by a huge thunderstorm. I may have mentioned that I'm not a big fan of being home alone during a thunderstorm. Being alone in a tent in a thunderstorm is much, much worse. The thunder was loud and continuous, the lightening was much too close for comfort, and I kept expecting the wind to blow the tent away with me in it. I could see the shadow of my bike right outside the tent, so I scooted my sleeping bag away from the side in case the wind blew the bike over. It seemed like it went on for hours, although I heard reports of 45 minutes the next morning. If the scariness of the storm wasn't bad enough, all the running water made me have to go to the bathroom, something I was not about to leave my tent to do. A lot of people around me had the same idea, though, as I could hear the doors to the Port-a-John's slam in the lulls in the storm.
So we were a pretty cranky bunch when we got up at 5:45. The mood worsened substantially when we got a look at breakfast. There were cold, tough pancakes (limit 2), and "eggs" that had turned a greenish gray. I skipped those and headed straight for the cold cereal, but I overheard a server telling someone in line that the color was due to the stainless steel pan. I guess people weren't buying that explanation, because we found out later that the egg cook had gotten so many complaints that he threw down his spatula and went on strike. We had been assuming that it was the parents of the Benzie High School football team that had been cooking, but it turned out to be a local catering company. We had been willing to cut some slack for fundraising parents, but there was no excusing professionals.
The ride started to make up for the bad night. We started out on a 30 mph downhill with no corresponding uphill. Freebies like that are always fun. We were riding on a fast paved trail with gorgeous scenery. There was still mist hanging over the marshes on the side of the trail. The only downside was that the pain from the bike seat was intensifying. I was ok after a few miles, but getting back on after a break was agonizing. The first SAG stop wasn't until 24 miles out. Actually, it turned out that we had missed the first one, which was poorly marked. So we were quite ready for a break when we got to the canoe livery with the Michigander RV parked outside. For a SAG, this was really nice, as there was a store with REAL BATHROOMS! We met up with John, Ben, Sarah, and Cathy, who had a bag of popcorn waiting for us. I finally got my ice cream fix with an ice cream snickers. Many yums. From there it was only 14 miles to lunch!
Lunch was a friends of the trail fundraiser held in a park, and was a welcome change from the somewhat disappointing food we had been eating thus far. They had buffalo steakburgers, fresh vegetables, cold pop. It was wonderful. They even had a local ice cream parlor selling handmade peanut butter and chocolate ice cream, my favorite flavor. We got to chat with the guy who had donated all the buffalo. He has a huge herd just outside Traverse City.
I definitely got my second wind after lunch. This was a very good thing, because the rest of the way was all "rolling" hills, and a lot of traffic. We were pretty pooped by the time we got to the last SAG stop. A volunteer told us it was only 5 more miles, all downhill. We nodded skeptically, but he turned out to be pretty accurate. we were on a paved trail into town, which turned into a sidewalk. Actually, it wasn't supposed to turn into a sidewalk, but the turn-off for the continuation of the trail wasn't marked. Luckily, about the time we stopped to check a map, some other bikers came by who had been there before and assured us that we could get there by the route we were going. We were staying at the community center, which had a ton of shade.
John saved us a space next to the skateboard park, and we set up the tents and strung up a clothesline between a couple trees, as things needed drying out after last night. Unfortunately, when John had bought his tent, he neglected to read the part of the instructions where they recommended seam-sealer. Combined with the fact that he also neglected to pack everything in plastic bags, he needed most of the clothesline space.
As soon as everything was set up and drying, we headed down to the beach to go swimming. It was freezing, of course, but just what we needed. Dinner was thankfully decent, although there wasn't anywhere to sit. There were plenty of table set up on the ice arena (unfrozen and drained), but there weren't nearly enough chairs. We had to hunt down a volunteer to go hijack some from a summer camp.
After dinner, we took advantage of Cathy's TC residence. She and her husband took us out sailing on the bay. This was my first time on a sailboat, so I was pretty excited. We drank beer (except Ben), saw a boat race, and one of the tall ships. It was a good time, although I was ready to get off by the time we got back.
When Cathy dropped us back off at the community center, we saw that we hadn't missed much in skipping out on the evening's entertainment. A DJ was playing outside the ice arena, but there wasn't anyone dancing, or even around. The people with tents closest to the speakers seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to ignore the really loud music. Thankfully, he stopped before bedtime (9:45), so it didn't interfere too much with the evening.

Michigander Day 2, Cadillac to Benzonia, 60.68 miles

2004-08-09T14:57:00.000-04:00

The ride guide had listed today as 58.1 miles, the longest day of the trip. I knew I was in trouble, as the first 3 days or so are usually still training for me. Plus, at the safety lecture the day before, Safety Man had warned us about one of today's hills. We had been told that it was so fast and dangerous on the way down that there would be cops and paramedics monitoring the situation at the bottom. So I was a little bit concerned as we set out bright and early.
Luckily, they turned out to be not too bad. While I did hit 33 mph with the brakes on, there weren't any cars on the road, and we made it down without any casualties. We hit a dirt road fairly early on, and despite last year's crash on a similar road last year, I was feeling pretty good. It was smooth and hard, so I was able to keep up pretty well.
We hit Mesick, our lunch stop at 10. While Mom was all for pushing on, Dad and I were ready for some food, so we persuaded her to stop at Jeri's diner. She was raving about her roast-beef sandwich for the next couple days. Unfortunately, about 2 minutes out of town, we hit a major uphill. Not good on a full stomach.
Shortly thereafter, we came upon more dirt roads. But these weren't dirt roads like the ones earlier in the day. These were deep sand. It was like trying to ride along a beach. Not good when you have skinny little hybrid tires and skinny little stick legs. The sand came up unexpectedly, around a curve, and immediately turned into a hill, so everyone got stuck. My parents managed to stay on their bikes, but I had to get off a walk a few yards before getting back on and slogging up the hill. And the sand hills continued for the next 10 miles. Given last years crash, I tend to be somewhat scared of sand. There were a ton of people walking, most of them on heavy duty mountain bikes, so I felt pretty good about being able to make it through.
Finally, we made it back onto pavement. Which really wasn't much better. It was a straight road, windy, and boring, with a ton of cars passing way too close. Mom zipped on ahead, while I struggled along, and Dad kept me company. At the 58.5 mile mark, we caught up with her. She had decided that we were past the designated mileage and ought to be done. I was perfectly fine with a break. I had bought a new bike seat the night before that was substantially firmer than my old one, and the transition period was killing me.
We made it into camp at 2:30. We found Cathy right away, but no one had seen John and Ben. While we started setting up the tents, she sent her daughter Sarah and the teenage boys constantly hanging around Sarah to go look for them. In a few minutes, we saw them carrying the fully set-up tent over their heads to our campsite.
As soon was everything is unpacked, I realized that I felt awful and needed to get out of the sun NOW. I thought a shower would help, and managed to make it to the locker room. After getting out of the shower, I go back over to my locker to change and realize that I can see multiple people passing by in the hallway. And they can see me. Someone had decided that the locker room was too steamy and had propped the door open. So everyone changing was unwittingly flashing the rest of the world.
I still wasn't feeling great so I sat down outside the locker room in the cool hallway. After a little while, I started to feel better and decided to try to make it back to my tent where I had left my water bottle. I made it 3 steps out the door before feeling sick again. So I had to walk back to the bathroom, which was on the other side of the building from the entrance, as fast as my poor tired legs and my poor queasy stomach would let me. I managed to avoid throwing up in the hallway, but it was still rather embarassing puking in a crowded bathroom.
After that, it was back to the hallway to take a nap on the tile floor. While cool, it was rather hard. It didn't help that I was using my toiletries bag as a pillow, which is none too soft.
Mom woke me up for dinner. The hamburgers looked completely unappetizing, so my meal consisted of baked beans and an oatmeal cookie. Truly, a dinner of champions.
Eating helped, though, so we all headed back out to the tents to sit around talking and journaling. No one really felt like taking the shuttle into town. This makes 2 days on the Michigander with no ice cream. Something is very wrong with this picture.

Michigander Day 1: Big Rapids to Cadillac, 44.45 miles

2004-08-02T11:21:00.000-04:00

It was clear that our hotel was overrun with other Michigander bikers, when people started rolling their bikes down the hallway and talking in "outside voices" at 5 in the morning. As our alarm wasn't set to go off for another hour, I was quite displeased. But when we ambled downstairs at a more reasonable hour, we were doing pretty much the same thing. I felt kind of bad for the non-biker people in the hotel, who were probably just hoping for a nice relaxing weekend in small-town Michigan. The complimentary breakfast was better than I expected for a Super-8, even though I had to eat my french toast standing up. There were a lot of bikers, plus a couple of guys that seemed to be regulars, who were just sitting at a table chatting up the hotel staff, and Not Eating! There were a billion people in a small room attempting to eat breakfast, and these guys were taking up way more than their fair share of space. But large quantities of food were consumed, and we got packed up and headed over to the middle school to register and meet up with friends.
Step 1 of Michigander registration is always the safety lecture. This is always done by the same guy, who looks like he's about to drop dead at any second. You go more for the experience rather than actual safety instructions, as Safety Man has become more and more incoherent with every year. After collecting our wristband and free water bottle, we found John From Ann Arbor in the parking lot, who was running a bit later than expected. We have a history of always being able to find each other, so we just told him to save us a good spot in camp. Next on our list of Friends to Run Into was Paul T, from our church, and on his first Michigander. We corralled him in time for our traditional start of the ride picture, and left him to go register as we set off on the trail.
The White Pine Trail led right out of the school parking lot, and was completely gorgeous and paved for the first 10-12 miles. We were speeding right along. There was a church service being conducted in a field right next to the trail, which was cool to see. They probably didn't appreciate having 1200 cyclists come through, however.
Even when the trail became dirt, it still was pretty developed, so I didn't think it was going to be a bad ride.
Lunch was in Tustin, a miniscule town off the trail, and was a quintesentially Michigander experience. We stopped at a little diner with one waitress, that hadn't really understood when they were told that a ton of bikers were going to be coming through. They were expecting motorcycles. We were there for an hour and a half, and listened to the waitress tell newcomers that they had just run out of whatever the person had ordered.
The rest of the trail sped by, especially the last mile, which had been freshly paved. It was a bike superhighway.
The school where we were camping was right across from the lake, which was a welcome sight. Unsurprisingly, we found John right away. He never stops for lunch, so he always beats us in. This year, some of our usual clique had decided to skip out on the ride, so John brought along his nephew Ben as a replacement. He's 15 and a soccer player, so will probably be kicking our butts on the trail. We circled our tents, showered, ate, and changed, and decided to check out the local entertainment. Down at the Rotary Bandshell, K-Jones and the Benzie Playboys were giving a concert. This was a zydeco group, complete with two people playing metal washboards strapped to their chests.
So far, this year's Michigander is running the way it's supposed to.

Michigander Day 0: Ann Arbor to Big Rapids (by car)

2004-07-30T12:20:00.000-04:00

     Packing for a 6 day bike trip isn't like packing for a normal vacation. You can never have too many pairs of socks, packing light is essential, and everything has to go into ziploc bags. Even though Ryder trucks carry our gear, we still have to haul the bags from the truck to the spot where we want to set up the tent, and there's a good chance things will be sitting out in the rain.
     Unfortunately, due to a late movie, and late sleeping, I had an hour to pack and clean before I had to head out to meet my parents in Royal Oak. Ack. I got the packing part done, without forgetting too much, but I didn't quite have enough time for the cleaning. So I broke my cardinal rule and went off on vacation, leaving behind a messy house.
     I got there in plenty of time for my Dad to put my trail tires on my bike, and to cuddle my cat a bit before we loaded up the car and set out for Big Rapids. It was a fairly standard car trip. Some chatting, some sleeping, dinner at a Big Boy off the expressway, where a waitress with waaaayyy too much blush took our orders. We hit Big Rapids at about 7:30.
     When we pulled into the parking lot of the Super 8, I started to get out to stretch my legs, but was promptly stopped by my Mom. Evidently the reservation had been made for 2 adults and 1 child, so I had to stay in the car while they checked in, and think young thoughts for the rest of the evening. We made it to the room without anyone questioning whether I was really 17, and decided to see what the bustling metropolis of Big Rapids had to offer in the way of entertainment. In other words, we left to check out the strip mall next to the hotel. The highlights of the outing were power bars and altoids that I found at Rite Aid, as well as a pair of oven mitts that my Mom picked up at Big Lots. Good times were had by all. After that, it was just crossword puzzles and tv until bedtime.
     The real fun begins tomorrow.

The Return of Almond

2004-07-30T12:12:00.000-04:00

I'm back! Biking, illness, and foot surgery have all conspired to keep me from my computer during the last two weeks. On the plus side, they give me something to write about, even if it is a little bit after the fact. So I'm going to to start with my crazy adventures on the Michigander, and work my way forward to the excitement of spending 48 hours on my parents' couch. It's great to be back at the keyboard!

Biker Chick

2004-07-17T00:28:00.000-04:00

Sunday starts the Michigander mountain bike trip. Beginning in Big Rapids, we will ride 305 miles over the course of 6 days up to Mackinaw City. I will be praying for sun, but not too much sun. I don't feel as ready as I could be, but I never do. The first two days of the ride are usually training for me. However, my parents are going to leave me in the dust. Between my mom's spinning classes, and my dad's year-round training on the stationary bike, I am definitely the wimp of the group. Our biking buddy, John From Ann Arbor, will have put in 700 miles before we start. I have been such a slacker. But despite my aching quads, I always have a blast on this trip. Ryder trucks carry our bags, we camp on the lawns of middle schools, and we get fed pretty decently. After 5 years, we've developed a group of people that we see every year. We usually have a buffalo circle set up with our tents each evening. We have come up with a million and one different uses for Neat Sheets, and mp3s of Celebrity Jeopardy are passed around. Add in a mandatory trip for Moose Tracks ice cream every night, and I am looking forward to a darn good week. Wish me luck!

My Stupidity (a little late)

2004-07-09T09:44:00.000-04:00

Stupid things I did on my day off last week:

1. Clean the bathroom
This would not ordinarily be a stupid thing to do, except that I forgot to change my pants beforehand. So there is now a large orange bleach spot on my favorite green capri pants. Sigh.

2. Break my roommate's car.
This was a slightly larger piece of idiocy. Julia was supposed to head off to New Mexico that afternoon, so I waved goodbye to her as she pulled out of the driveway. Since she was gone, it shouldn't have been a problem for Paul to park there when he came over. However, a few hours later, we got back from our walk to see Julia's car back in the driveway, with the back end a bit crunched. She had gotten hit by a DTE truck on her way out of town and had to postpone her trip for a few days. But now Paul had to go to work, and his car was blocked in. Not wanting to bother Julia, I grabbed her spare key and went out to move the car, like I always do. It was rush hour, and there was a ton of construction going on, so it was really hard to find a moment to back out. We finally managed to block traffic and get Paul out of there, but in order to get back in the driveway, I had to make a really tight left turn. Normally I just go over the corner of the lawn a bit. Except that we're having work done on our house, so where the lawn used to be, there is now a 3 foot hole. The right front wheel went over the edge and stayed there. Luckily, I was out of the street, but I was stuck at this crazy angle across the sidewalk. About a billion people watched me do this, and I was sincerely hoping that Julia wasn't home. I had to call a tow truck to come and jack up the car and get it back on the driveway. And since it wasn't my car, insurance didn't cover it. I was so paranoid about my driveway that I walked to my dance class that night. The next day when I came home from work, there was an orange fence around the hole. Better late than never, but I really could have used it about 24 hours previously.

Sometimes, Slow Construction Workers are Wonderful

2004-07-01T22:03:00.000-04:00

Unexpected days of vacation are the best. Today, construction work at the Bentley necessitated turning off the water, so everyone was told they didn't have to come in at least for the morning. We would be notified by noon if they finished and we had to show up for the afternoon. Even better, the powers that be said they would pay us for our normal hours. So this morning was completely delicious. I slept in, did some laundry, which was desperately needed, took a walk downtown, and called my mom to tell her Happy Birthday! But they ax was still sort of hanging over my head. At 11:50, I got the email telling me that the rest of the day was mine. Paul had a few hours free in between meetings and work, so he swung by and we went for a walk around campus. He had lived in East Quad too, and had been an orientation leader, so we wandered over to that side of town, sat in the EQ courtyard and waxed nostalgic. On the way back, we stopped at Dominick's, which was pretty empty at 3:30. I sat there, drinking a beer, and realized that I was getting paid for doing it. There is no better feeling. So it was a darn good day playing hooky (sort of), except for a couple monumentally stupid things I did, which warrant a post of their own.

All the Pain, But None of the Gain

2004-06-30T23:12:00.000-04:00

Only a very unique person can get hangover without being drunk. Which means I should get a gold star for specialness. My body decided I had a little too much fun Saturday night, which didn't seem to be the case at the time. I went to Polly's BBQ, where a fair amount of beer was consumed, but I was pacing myself, so I was still feeling fine when Mike gave me a ride home (I had walked). Then it was off to get a drink with Paul, who had been working late saving lives. I think my crucial mistake was at this point, when I switched over to a martini. Evidently those don't mix too well with beer. But I wasn't having any problems when I finally called it a night, so I told Paul I'd love to do brunch with him on Sunday.

Unfortunately, when I woke up Sunday morning, it was clear I was going nowhere. I tried to call Paul to let him know, but I was just getting his voice mail. And so it came to pass that when he showed up to collect me, I was otherwise occupied throwing up in the bathroom. Not really the impression I wanted to present after our 2nd date. However, my condition sent him on a huge guilt trip for giving me the alcohol in the first place, and he went into full-on doctor mode. He was very handy to have around, as he could give me meds to make me feel better, even if they did completely knock me out. But it was a little weird to have him holding my hand as a cover for checking my pulse. Not to mention my extreme mortification at having him see me like that. But he was quite wonderful about it, and fixed me up, and even wants to see me again, so all was not lost. Even though we never did get brunch together.

As a matter of fact, there is a doctor in the house!

2004-06-29T23:02:00.000-04:00

My house is currently being overrun by French speakers. Derek left for Burma last weekend, so for a day it was just Julia, Anna, and I. But as of this afternoon, Anna has become Dr. Anna, and a whole passel of people arrived to help her celebrate. Her boyfriend flew in from France this weekend, and since he doesn't really speak English, I've been practicing a lot. Then Anna's parents and siblings showed up, who are all trilingual, so things have been flipping back and forth a lot. After Anna's defense this afternoon, her mom cooked us a huge dinner. We had to eat in the living room with the plates on our laps because the food covered the entire dining room table. And that isn't counting dessert. We're trying to convince her to come and live with us when Anna leaves. Anna's best friend came along as well. She speaks French, but her husband doesn't, and their 2 year old son seems to be going for a mixture of the 2 languages. She is also very very pregnant, and they were timing contractions over dessert. So we might be babysitting later on tonight. All in all, it was a very multicultural evening. I felt kind of bad for Julia, as she was the only person there completely unused to being in a situation where multiple languages are flying around that she doesn't understand. But Anna's mom cooked enough for 3 times as many people than were there, so hopefully all the leftovers will make up for the moments of confusion.

Time to Lay the Smackdown on Some Bureaucratic A**

2004-06-21T18:16:00.000-04:00

Thanks to SI's lovely PEP requirement, I signed myself up for a one credit DFE for the Spring/Summer term. Unlikemost SI students, the archivists have a ton of opportunities to earn PEP points, so one credit is all I needed to finish up. I was actually fairly efficient as an undergrad, and never had to take summer classes then, so I was unfortunately unfamiliar with the process of getting financial aid. I had to request it back in February, when I had no idea what my plans were, but the website said that I wouldn't be awarded anything until I actually registered for spring classes, as the number of credits I took would determine the amount of aid I got.

So I went through a huge saga trying to register for the class, which I couldn't do without an override, which I couldn't get until my DFE mentor sent in my project proposal, which he was quite slow to do. So I didn't actually get registered for the class until after the official start date of the term. A few weeks later, I receive my award notice in the mail, saying I'm getting a big pile of money. I declined most of it, saying I only needed a small pile of money. A couple weeks after that, I received my revised award notice, letting me know that the Office of Financial Aid would be happy to give me a small pile of money. I was quite relieved, as I had already given the University a substantial chunk of change out of my own pocket for the privilege of teaching myself archival processing for the summer. Not to mention the fact that money would be a little tight since I'm not able to work quite full time. So I sat back and waited for my funding to arrive in my bank account. And I waited. And waited.

So finally this afternoon I called the financial aid office to find out where my money was. I talked to a robotically polite bureaucratic stooge who informed me that I wasn't eligible to receive financial aid since I wasn't enrolled at least half time. ARRRRGGGGHHHHH. She seemed to think that since I was only registered for one credit, I was only in class for one hour a week. Unfortunately, in the DFE rulebook, one credit equals 60 hours of work, which equals substantially more wages lost. Plus, even one credit is quite expensive. She also seemed to see nothing odd about the fact that I was informed of my financial aid award, and that it was even confirmed. Evidently no one was planning on letting me know that I was ineligible for funding. I was just going to be left to sit by my mailbox, patiently waiting for my check that would never arrive.

Someone needs to be beaten. Severely.

Belly Dancing in a Dungeon

2004-06-18T16:20:00.000-04:00

The first lesson of the brand-new advanced belly dance class started up last night. While the course content seems like it's going to be great, I've noticed a deterioration in the quality of the spaces we get put in, while the price of the courses continue to rise. We started out a year ago in a dance studio in the Cultural Arts building. It was small, but had AC and ceiling fans, and a nice wooden floor. Last session, we got move to a dance studio in the high school, which was bigger, but didn't have any ventilation, and had panelled mirrors, which gave an interesting funhouse effect when you stood at the wrong angle. Now we've been demoted even further, to a classroom in the basement of a middle school. It has dirty tile floors, six concrete pillars in the way, no mirrors, and no ventilation whatsoever. And the janitor was hustling us out of the room 5 minutes after class ended. There may be an angry letter written to the rec ed department, as I am feeling rather dismayed about this situation. I pity the kids who actually have to spend the day there, as the whole building seemed kind of dark and dirty and falling apart.

The Mysteries of the Cosmos

2004-06-16T22:25:00.000-04:00

The reference staff at work has been a little too efficient lately. We ran out of reference letters to answer today, and since this is the slow season for researchers, we all had a bit of time to kill this afternoon. Which led to me seeing what there was to see on the World Wide Web.

In the course of my puttering, I ran across my horoscope, which read "Someone wants your body." That was it. This was a nice boost to my self esteem. I suppose I should have hit the bar after work and put this knowledge to use. Instead, I squandered my good fortune and went to the gym, then sat my sweaty self on the couch and watched Bridget Jones' Diary while crocheting a baby blanket. Hopefully this won't be my only opportunity, and the stars will give me another shot when I'm more inclined to take advantage.

Getting Away From It All

2004-06-14T21:51:00.000-04:00

I got to leave the real world behind this weekend and head up to Manistee on a retreat with my mom and and few other women from our church. The stated purpose of our getaway was crafting, but it was really about getting away from kids and families and responsibilities. Our pastor and his wife have a condo not too far from Lake Michigan, so we were pretty comfortable. The closest we came to roughing it was when my mom and I had to sleep on the pull-out couch. For night two, we just put the mattress on the floor to try to avoid the bar in the middle of the back, but wound up pretty stiff all the same.

There was a lot of relaxation, but I still got a fair amount of my project done. I'm attempting to make a rather complicated baby blanket made up of 42 crocheted squares. I finished 4 this weekend. Luckily I'm not really on a deadline for this. It will just go to the first baby born after I finish. We also took walks on the beach, did a bit of biking, and hung out in the indoor pool and hot tub. There was a ridiculus amount of food brought up there, although we were sensible and left a few packages of cookies sealed.

I didn't get quite as much sleep as I would have liked. I was by far the youngest person there, and everyone else was a naturally early riser. Since I was sleeping in the living room, once the sun started shining and people started wandering into the room, I was up, whether I wanted to be or not. Getting up earlier than I do during the week was a little frustrating. But it's probably better that I didn't spend too much more time on that bed.

Even though my weekends aren't normally too stressful, it was nice to go relax somewhere else, especially when that somewhere else is as nice as Manistee. I got to chill out, eat better food than I usually cook for myself, and get some things accomplished that I wouldn't have done at home, with the added bonus of being able to put on a bathing suit without worrying about shaving my legs.

Simple Joys

2004-06-10T19:27:00.000-04:00

In a somewhat belated attempt to save the semi-new carpet from construction workers' boots, a sheet of plastic was put down at work this week. It runs from the front door to the back, and is pulled fairly tight, except for some air bubbles that keep popping up. Which means that walking down the hallways is like walking on bubble wrap. I love it. I need to find more excuses to walk that way, especially after dealing with problem patrons. It's almost as satisfying as the real thing.

In related bubble wrap news, check this out if you're ever feeling stressed.

Je n'ai pas oublié toute la langue française

2004-06-09T22:13:00.000-04:00

Other than a few "queue" jokes here and there, I haven't spoken much French since I got back from Switzerland. This is completely my own fault. I just get in the habit of speaking English with the people I could be speaking French to, and find it hard to switch. But the other day, I got together with a brand-new French friend, and got off on the right foot. I hadn't lost as much as I thought. Aside from a second or two of confusion when I thought he said something about breakfast sex (he was really talking about a business breakfast), I understood what he was saying, and I seemed to be making sense as well. Unless he was just nodding and smiling and humoring me, which is perfectly possible. He even said he liked my accent. Now, there could be a few reasons for him saying this that have nothing to do with my accent actually being good, but I choose to believe that he was impressed by my excellent command of the French language. It felt good to listen and speak the language again. I need to do things like this more often.

We Have a Winner!

2004-06-09T21:59:00.000-04:00

Out of the many entering students who aspired to be residents of our humble abode, a champion has emerged. Liz, an incoming public policy person will be joining our happy family at the end of August (Sorry, no gorgeous guys). With her arrival 3 out of 5 of us will be New Yorkers. My poor little midwestern soul will be vastly outnumbered. But she is very cool and I am happy. The deal was pretty much sealed when she mentioned that she currently works for a publishing company that Derek wants to order books from, and that she can get them to him for free. Housemates with useful connections are always welcome. The only downside is that we liked her so much that we told her she could live with us before we met with a few people we had already promised tours to. So we had to pretend to show some people the house while secretly knowing that it was a waste of our time and theirs. One guy was extremely enthusiastic, exclaiming over our fireplace and our hardwood floors like this was the greatest house he had ever seen. I felt quite guilty for misleading him. But I liked Liz better anyway.

Only in A2

2004-06-06T16:14:00.000-04:00

Summer has truly arrived in Ann Arbor. The sound of the church choir across the street comes wafting through open windows, everybody in the city is out on their porch, and all the roads are closed down. But not because of construction, although there is plenty of that. It is Street Festival Season. Since I live quite close to downtown, I get to take advantage of the festivities without being too inconvenienced by the lack of driveable roads. Friday, Main Street was closed down for EarthFest. Saturday, Fourth Ave. was closed for the African American Festival. Today, I tried to go my usual route to the expressway, but was detoured around Main due to some sort of marathon or race. Taste of Ann Arbor is also today, so I assume some streets downtown are remaining closed for that. 3.5 festivals in 3 days isn't too shabby. I walked around yesterday and looked at art that I couldn't afford. (Practicing for Art Fair) It's a good reason to go downtown and mingle with real Ann Arborites, as opposed to the students I'm surrounded by during the school year. Although I suppose all these street closings would annoy me more if I had to drive downtown.

Will Perform Sensemaking Tasks for Food

2004-06-05T12:47:00.000-04:00

Not for the first time, this morning I allowed the promise of $20 to lure me up to SI North to participate in a sensemaking experiment. It was administered by a doctoral student, but in reading the consent form, I learned that the faculty member in charge was none other than our favorite GWF. *swoon*

I had to use a special system (something not unlike a general version of the Strategy Hub) to find information for a hypothetical public library talk on "Everyday Drinks of Old People." It was pretty much searching the web, but with some nifty features that theoretically make it easier. I guess I must have given the person running the experiment a WTF-look, because she made sure to explain to me that this is a really hard topic, and not to get discouraged if I don't find anything, because nobody has been finding anything. So it was nice to be able to impress the living daylights out of her when I actually came up with enough material to give at least a mini-talk. (I only had 45 minutes to search) I guess all that experience answering IPL questions paid off. I have become accustomed to finding information on random topics and answering poorly worded questions. I think I might have to find a job where I'm doing at least a bit of reference-related stuff, because it seems to be one of the things where I really feel like I know what I'm doing.

So all in all, it was a morning well-spent. I got $20 (minus taxes) and got to show off my killer web search skills. Plus on my way out the door, I saw a flier for another paid experiment. At this rate, I'll have a condo in the Bahamas in no time!

More Bike Stuff

2004-05-31T21:09:00.000-04:00

I think 4 years of the Michigander Bike Trip has made me cocky. There, the standard day is supposed to be 50 miles. We usually start fairly early, and get into camp around 1 or 2 at the latest, if we stop for lunch. The formula seems to be that no matter how fast you ride, you always wind up averaging 10 miles/hour, once you factor in rest stops and hills and emergency bike repairs. So I tend to think of 30 miles as no big deal. Except that I'm not fencing anymore. And while belly dancing does wonderful things for my abs, it's not that great of a leg workout. I make grand plans to go out riding, but the weather has not been that cooperative. Not to mention my inherent laziness and dislike of riding alone. As a result, I am not nearly as buff as I need to be, and my parents could easily leave me in the dust should they choose. This needs to change soon. I think I need to find a cute biking boy to ride with on a regular basis for motivation. That strategy worked for me when I decided to take up swimming. Or if anyone else wants to go riding with me at a park or around town, I always welcome company. And I don't go fast at all.

I guess that sacrificial goat did the trick

2004-05-31T20:55:00.000-04:00

The Weather Gods seem to not hate me anymore. Despite the threat of thunderstorms, the standard biking group once again got up at an ungodly hour to go ride 31 miles. We said that if there was thunder and lightning, forget it, but otherwise, we had already paid our money and there was the promise of a barbecue at the end. So we pretty much resigned ourselves to soggy shoes. It was misting lightly when we left the house, which turned into a full-fledged rain on the expressway. But luckily for us, by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the school we were starting from, it had gone back to misting. There was nothing by the time we actually hit the road. Our luck was turning. There was still a fair amount of spray coming up from the puddles in the road, and John From Ann Arbor had a nice stripe up the middle of his back by the time we finished, but we managed to stay fairly dry. After changing into some real shoes, we headed inside to replenish some of those burned calories. A few minutes after loading up our plates, someone gave a shout. I looked in the direction everyone was pointing, only to see rain pouring down outside the window. I was extremely proud of us for managing to avoid the crappy weather, not that it was in any way influenced by anything we did. Except for that sacrifice last night.

My Thumb is Turning Green

2004-05-30T13:25:00.000-04:00

One of my summer jobs in college was working in the indoor plant department of a gardening store. Despite 6 months of taking care of houseplants 40 hours a week, my own plants scare me. I'm constantly afraid that they're going to die. I can deal with them better en masse. 30 african violets are no problem. But if there's only one, I tend to hover over it and practically kill it with kindness. I do much better with plants that need a lot of water. So at the end of my time at this store, I used my employee discount to acquire a small espresso plant. It even had a bean growing on it. For almost 3 years I watered and misted it faithfully, and it was doing quite well, although no more beans appeared. Then I did something really stupid, although my intentions were good. I decided to take my plants with me when I went to stay at my parents' house for the Christmas break. I was going to be there for almost 2 weeks, and I didn't want my hitherto successful plants to wither away without me. So early one Sunday morning, I bundled them into my car and headed back to my hometown. I decided to meet my parents at church rather than go straight home.

This is the part where I kick myself. Because I left my poor little tropical plant in my car in the middle of winter for 2 hours. It looked fine when I brought it inside, but by that evening most of the leaves had turned brown and shriveled up. Half of them were on the floor. But there were a few green ones still clinging to the stem, so I started misting furiously, hoping to save my baby. By the end of vacation it hadn't gotten better, but it hadn't gotten any worse, either. And since I couldn't find another one to replace it, I took my espresso plant back home with me. And so it has sat, on a table in my room. I remember to water it when I feed the others, although I've been really bad about the misting. 6 months later, I still haven't been able to find a replacement, which is the only reason it's still around.

But last week, a miracle occured! There are a few baby leaves starting to poke out of the stem. My plant lives! There are still a lot of brown or half brown leaves that refuse to fall off, so it looks pretty sad, but this gives me hope. Now I really can't give up on it. So maybe in a few years I'll be able to invite someone over for a teaspoon of coffee or a chocolate covered espresso bean.

Groundhog Update

2004-05-26T22:56:00.000-04:00

Digger is back! No sign of the children. I have no idea what baby groundhogs are called. But Mama was there sunning herself by the statue, at least when there was sun to be had this afternoon. She came back just in time, as there was a whole 1 researcher in the reading room this afternoon, and she only stayed for about half an hour. Entertainment was sorely needed. Yay for wildlife!

Adventures in Romance (or lack thereof)

2004-05-26T22:39:00.000-04:00

(note: this is an old story, I was just reminded of it and felt like writing about it now. Don't worry, I'm not holding out on any good gossip about my love life :)

The first meeting post-breakup is always awkward, especially when it was more of a tacit fadeout than a clean break. A week and a half before, he had hugged me goodbye, a clear sign that it was over. There have been no phone calls since.

I run into him in a hallway. This isn't completely unexpected. I don't feel that uncomfortable, as our interactions barely qualified as a relationship, if at all. There is no ill will on my side, at least. We make the standard remarks about the weather, the busy-ness of the week, etc. I'm about to excuse myself gracefully and get out of there when he says something rather unexpected. "So in a couple weeks, I was going to try to get a few people together and head out of town. Are you interested in coming?" My thoughts: A weekend trip?! WTF?! You just broke up with me! My response (rather automatic): "Sure, that sounds interesting." He smiles and says "Great. I'll let you know the details." And he walks away.

Now, we both know that he has absolutely zero intention of following through on this invitation. But I have no idea why he felt compelled to bring it up in the first place. Is it some half-hearted attempt to convince me that things are the same between us? Clearly they're not. But if that's his reasoning, why would he want to drag this situation out? It makes no sense to me. Is this a guy thing, one individual acting strangely, or am I the only one who thinks this is weird behavior? I find it all very odd. If anyone has any insight, please share.

You know it's summer when....

2004-05-24T22:12:00.000-04:00

Spider Solitaire moves to the top of your program list, passing Microsoft Word. It's good to be a slacker :)

Vive la Corse!

2004-05-24T21:20:00.000-04:00

In letting my thoughts wander during my drive back to the hometown this weekend, I realized that at this time two years ago I was running around Corsica. I got to swim in the Mediterranean, watch the sunset over the Staircase of the King of Aragon(180 steps down the side of a cliff carved by slaves in a day), and dodge wild pigs in the road. Yay for Catholic holidays! They gave us Thursday off for some religious event, so of course nobody showed up on Friday. It was easily one of the best trips I’ve ever taken. Corsica is beyond amazing. It is incredibly beautiful, with the added bonus of being able to buy a placemat or car decal(or anything else)with a picture of Napoleon on it.

That was a very spontaneous time in my life. I was able to just pick up and go somewhere interesting for the weekend. I’m not really sure why I have trouble doing that now. Maybe I don’t know the same sort of people these days. Before, a friend of mine would say, “Hey Amanda, we’re going to Venice for the weekend. Want to come?” And I’d say ok, and we’d leave the next day. They were a good influence on me that way. Not that I’m complaining about my life now or the people I hang out with. They are all quite wonderful :) But I do wonder whether I could recapture that way of living, or if too much has gone on in my life since then. Someone invite me somewhere cool at the last minute so I can find out!

Why can't it be raining men instead?

2004-05-23T20:02:00.000-04:00

I'm not a big fan of thunderstorms. So in my mind, 3 tornado warnings in 4 days is a little bit excessive. The first one, Thursday night, created the most inconvience, as the sirens didn't go off until midnight, severly interfering with my 7.5 hours of sleep. But Derek and I pulled up some suitcases in the storage room in the basement and waited it out. We brought books that we didn't read, and he had a camping headlamp on, just in case the power went out, so we would have been rather cozy if it hadn't been for the water running in through a hole in the wall and puddling at our feet. Sigh. I was hoping to avoid dealing with the landlord for at least a little while.

Having not gone to bed until 1:30 the night before, I was rather tired and cranky at work the next day. But the weather hadn't been that bad while I was walking there, and I had the promise of tea and happy hour to keep me going. And then the sky started to turn gray. And then black. And then green. The reading room has a whole wall of glass, and the weather channel was giving one of those Take Cover warnings, so we had to herd the researchers down into the basement. They were fairly lucky to get a tour of the stacks and the conservation lab. Not many people get to see those.

It was nice to have a day off from flying tree branches and such the like. Sunday didn't even look too bad. The thunderstorm waited to strike until I was alone in my parents' house, another place with a lot of windows. Being alone during a thunderstorm that could turn into a tornado is fairly high on my list of situations I do not like.

I think it's time to start making some sacrifices to the weather gods. Much more of this and I'll be able to keep goldfish in the basement, sans bowl. Not to mention the fact that Mother Nature owes me an hour and a half of sleep.

The Saga Continues...

2004-05-20T19:28:00.000-04:00

The hunt for a new roommate has officially begun! The ad (finally) went up on the housing website late Monday night and by 5pm Tuesday we already had 11 responses. I guess that's the good thing about having a soon-to-be-professional writer compose your ad. There seem to be a few interesting people in the bunch, although most didn't give us any info about themselves. Don't they realize that they have to impress us? Unfortunately, some of the interesting people came with cats, which won't work for us as the aforementioned writer is allergic. I got the job of sending the immediate rejections. I felt bad, especially as one person had sent along pictures of her cat, which was a little ball of fluff as big as my hand and completely adorable.

Judging by the percentage of responses from guys, the overall testosterone level of our house will be rising next year. The first candidate might be coming to check the place out tomorrow. Ack! Housecleaning!

Encounters with Bureaucracy

2004-05-19T22:30:00.000-04:00

Ann Arbor's culture of rather militant tolerance gets in the way sometimes. Unfortunately, at the end of the summer, my roommate Anna will become Dr. Anna and leave us to live happily ever after and cut up rat brains in France. So the rest of the household has to find someone to fill the void. We had our wonderful writer-in-residence think up an ad for us to post on the off-campus housing website to help attract the perfect new person. We all approved of what he wrote and it was submitted to the site. We eagerly checked our messages, only to find a rejection notice from the housing site! We had written that we were looking for a grad student, which is evidently forbidden. Postings are not allowed to discriminate based on graduate/undergraduate status. So we deleted the word "graduate" and tried again. And got rejected again. It is against Ann Arbor's Fair Housing Law to say that we want a student. We're not going to take an undergrad, and the odds of a non-student even getting to the website are pretty slim, so it seems like these regulations are just wasting time, although I understand the need for general non-discrimination policies. Although if they tell us that we need to take out the part where we say that we want someone who can cook, because it discriminates against people who are culinarily impaired, I will be annoyed.

Do You Think that Pink is the New Black?

2004-05-17T22:38:00.000-04:00

In the past few years it seems like my close friends have always included guys. SI and my living situation this year seem to be changing that. Not that I don't still have male friends, but now the group of people I hang out with is mostly female. I am rediscovering Girl's Night Out and group trips to the mall and sitting around painting my nails with a bunch of other people. I had gotten kind of out of practice. I should probably go out and rent a few seasons of Sex and the City to make sure I remember how this girl talk thing works. I don't know if it's a coincidence that this is happening at the same time I'm wearing more skirts, buying more pink clothing, and playing with swords less. But it's very cool to me, and I get way too excited about things like ordering chinese food and (not) watching Pride and Prejudice.

Nature Sightings

2004-05-17T15:51:00.000-04:00

There tends to be a lot of wildlife running around North Campus. It isn't uncommon to look outside at work and see some deer munching grass in the courtyard or a fox lying amongst the flowers. But the heavy construction around our building this year has chased most of them away. So we were quite excited when a new neighbor appeared. A groundhog moved in under the statue in the courtyard. Since he appeared, Digger has captured the hearts of (most of) the reference staff with his cuteness in sunning himself on the grass or poking his head out of his hole to sniff around. He hasn't hurt any of the garden, so there is hope that his few detractors will come around. After the heavy rain on Friday, our mascot provided us with a new source of excitement. Digger is a she! We think that her hole probably flooded, so she had to pack up her household and move to higher ground. She popped up out of her hole with a little ball of fluff in her mouth and scampered across the lawn. aaawwwww. There were 5 babies in all. It's a little sad that Digger left, as she was something interesting to look at during the times when reference was slow. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she'll be back, children in tow.

The Joys of Rental Housing

2004-05-15T17:01:00.000-04:00

I tend to complain about my house, but it's mostly just empty whining. There are definitely things I would like to change, but overall, I like where I live. But today, I officially got a reason to complain.

It seems like things always go wrong when one has guests. Since Courtney is gone for the summer, she told one of her friends from DC that he and his wife could stay in her room while they were here hunting for a house for next year. This was fine with everyone, as these people had visited before and are the best houseguests anyone could hope to have. But yesterday, the rest of the household left to go to Chicago for the weekend, leaving just me and Courtney's friends, who really weren't in the house all that much. We had given them an extra key, as they were coming and going as much as we were.

Last night I got home first, and was just climbing into bed when the doorbell rang. The key we had given them had snapped off in the lock. It took a good 10 minutes to get the end of the key out of the lock. So they resolved to go out first thing this morning to get a copy. It wasn't that big of a deal, since I was just planning on puttering around the house today, but it was inconvenient.

This morning they ran out to do some errands and get the new key, and I decided to fix up the house a bit. I needed to repot a plant, so I dragged the supplies out onto the porch and shut the door behind me. I realized I had forgotten the watering can, so I tried to get back in the house. But the doorknob wouldn't turn. It wasn't locked, just broken. At this point the guests pull up in the driveway, and I have to explain to them that we can't actually get back in the house. This isn't exactly the kind of hospitality I would prefer to offer.

We try the back door, which I don't think has been opened in years, but it's firmly locked. I leave them to fiddle with that while I go next door to borrow a phone to call the landlord. Predictably, I get the answering machine. Given that it usually takes about 2 days for the landlord to do anything about a repair request, I'm starting to freak out. In a stroke of luck, while I was doing that, Jeff managed to force the lock on the back door open. Now we just had to deal with the chain on the door. I ran back to the neighbor's house to borrow a screwdriver, and we were able to take the plate holding the chain off the wall.

Unfortunately, 5 hours later, no one has shown up to fix anything, and I can't really leave the house until that happens. Although someone did come and mow our lawn. At least we did manage to get back inside, or I would still be sitting on the porch in my slippers.

The Cicadas are Coming!!

2004-05-13T21:58:00.000-04:00

Evidently we're in for a plague of locusts any day now. Actually, they're cicadas. They come out every 17 years, infest everything, disrupt the sleep of anyone in the vicinity, and really stink when their dead bodies cover the ground. This goes on for almost 2 months. Yay for Mother Nature! One of my roommates completely freaks out at the sight of bugs, so this could be an interesting summer around my house.

I'm not really sure how to make lemonade out of this particular batch of lemons. Unless cicadas eat mosquitoes. Then they can hang around all they want. Although, the coming infestation is an added incentive to take care of that 1/2 inch gap between the screen and the window in my room. I already have earplugs, thanks to the next door neighbors, so I can check that off my list.

At the very least, it will be fun to see the roommate going after cicadas with a broken Swiffer.

Yes, I would like a little cheese with that whine

2004-05-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

In order to acquire my last PEP point, I have taken on the project of turning my church's filing cabinets into an archives back in my hometown. The plan is to meet with my mentor after church on Sunday and work most of the day Monday. The project is interesting, and people seem to be appreciating what I'm doing, but I don't think I thought this whole plan through as much as I should have. When I first started making plans for this summer, a few of my good friends were supposed to be in the area. Unfortunately, as my plans got closer to being finalized, theirs changed. So now I'm committed to being there 2 days a week, but with a rather limited social circle. Most of my friends from high school have scattered, so I pretty much know one person with whom I have socialized fairly recently, but doesn't seem really excited about having me around. So there will probably be a lot of quality time spent with the family, and a lot of time spent roaming the neighborhoods on my bike. I'm not really sure how to go about meeting people in a place where I only have 1 free day a week. Maybe I should try to find a Sunday night basket-weaving class or something. Anyone have any ideas? Otherwise, my cat is going to get sick of me quite quickly.

Yay for Self-Mutilation!!!

2004-05-08T21:09:00.000-04:00

I got my ear stretched out this afternoon. Rather, I got the earring hole in the top of my left ear stretched out. Back when I was young and foolish, I had made the mistake of going the cheap route and getting my ear pierced with a gun at a jewelry store (piercing professionals seem to wince when I say this). Unfortunately, my body doesn't really like most types of metal, so the earring they originally put in caused no end of problems. So I resolved to go get something to put in there that was body-piercing quality. The problem is, most mainstream stores only sell body jewelry that is bigger than most normal earrings.

I thought I was going to have to get my ear re-pierced, so I went out to a tatoo and piercing parlor today to scope out the situation. I wasn't actually planning on getting anything done today, since I tend to pass out and I figured I would need someone to drive me home. But when I got to the tatoo parlor, the piercer told me that I wouldn't actually need to re-pierce, just to stretch out the existing hole. No needles, no blood. That didn't sound so bad, so I paid for my new earring and sat down in the chair. At which point (after refunds were impossible), she informed me that stretching really hurts more than piercing. So I informed her that I tend to get a bit light-headed with this sort of thing (major understatement). I was sitting up, but she left the chair reclined so I could lay back if I started feeling woozy. The first thing she did was put a post that was very slightly bigger than the existing hole through my ear, just to make sure the hole was still open. This was when I told her I needed to lay down. We hadn't even gotten to the painful part yet. Her reponse was "No problem. Just make sure you let me know if you're going to be, um, sick." This was not that reassuring to me. So I lay back, hand gripping the chair arms, eyes closed, feeling the world spin around me. It probably only took a minute, but it really was much worse than the original piercing.

After she was done, she put a fan on me and brought me a cup of water. I would pick my head up, sip, and let my head drop back onto the chair pad. I would sit up for a minute or two, then have to lay back down. After I was able to sit up, I did the same sort of thing with standing up for 30 seconds, then sitting back down. Eventually I was able to totter into the waiting room, and flop down on a bench. The piercer was very nice. We had a good chat about her kids and Mother's Day. Luckily there was no one else waiting, so she kept telling me that I got special treatment because I had been nice and smart enough to warn her before I passed out. I finally felt decent enough to walk around. My hands weren't quite so clammy, and there was actually color in my lips, so I didn't think I'd have trouble getting to my car, which was parked around the corner. I was across the street from my car when my hands started to tingle and I saw stars. I had to run to my car to avoid falling in the street. It took a few minutes of sitting in the reclined driver's seat with the windows down before I was able to drive home. It probably took half an hour to 40 minutes from the time she stretched my ear to the time I drove off.

Note to self for next time: Get a Designated Driver!!!!!

This should cure me of any impulse to modify my body for a while. But my new earring makes me happy. Or at least it will, once my ear stops throbbing.

Thanks for the offer, but I'm just here to dance. With my clothes ON!!!1

2004-05-06T22:54:00.000-04:00

Tonight was my first night of the new belly dance session. (It was the third for everyone else, but I had to miss the first 2 classes). My wonderful teacher is back, we're learning a very cool new dance, and I'm pumped. Woot! Although I still get the feeling that despite its trendiness, belly dancing is viewed by the general population as half a step up from stripping. (I get this from the look on people's faces when they realize I just said "belly" and not "ballet") It's interesting, given how tasteful everything we do is. I think because of the origins of belly dance being something that nice girls didn't do professionally, legit dancers these days want to make sure people know that they're not there to do anything more than dance. The dances we learn are sexy, but they're Audrey Hepburn sexy, not Pamela Anderson sexy. Nice family friendly entertainment. I went to a Belly Dance Superstars show a while ago (The Riverdance of the belly dance world), and I would have had no problem with kids seeing any of it, except for the venue.

Up to this point, I haven't let anyone see me dance, except for 2 roommates who came to my class' mini-recital a while ago. I think I need to get over my timidity and feelings of inadequacy and let the family and friends see what I do with my Thursday nights. Some of my classmates and I are toying with the idea of sending in an audition tape to perform at Art Fair. So I really need to get used to showing off my hip shimmy. It's easier to perform for strangers, though. If you screw up, you never have to see them again. Less pressure.

But if anyone is interested in learning more about this very cool dance form, we're starting a free informal club that meets once a week, with very varying skill levels, including zero experience. Come learn how to shake it like a polaroid picture with me!!!!

The Joys of Aging

2004-05-05T18:04:00.000-04:00

Today a rather elderly couple came into the library. But this was no ordinary elderly couple. They were both dressed head-to-toe in yellow. Except for black shoes. They looked like giant bananas. They both had on sweat suits of the same shade of yellow, but different styles. I can't imagine the amount of effort it must have taken to find two different outfits of the same shade of yellow. I could understand if they just bought two of the same thing, but going to the trouble of finding something almost the same just seems like too much work to me. I guess this is what happens when people retire and have waaaayyy too much time on their hands. Something to look forward to, I suppose.

I am a Reference Goddess!!!

2004-05-04T21:37:00.000-04:00

Finding an answer to an unanswerable question really feels wonderful. As part of my job, I answer questions for people who are too far away to actually visit the archives and who send us an email instead. Today when I was going through the stack of questions, I decided to be nice and take the one on top that everyone else had been avoiding since it came in. A guy had bought a framed photograph of the Huron River, but couldn't read the artist's signature and wanted to know more about it. He sent along a scan of the photo, but this was something that clearly was not going to be in our collection. I expected to putz around online for a while, and then tell him to go ask at the gallery where he bought it. So I Googled a few things and predictably came up with nothing. I went to ask my boss if she had any suggestions, but hers were pretty much the same as mine. So I went back to the computer to write the letter. But on a whim, I did a Google image search for "Huron River". The picture I was looking for was on the second page of results. Go Me!!!!!!1 I had never expected to actually find the thing. I hope the patron appreciates this, because he is exceptionally lucky that I came across the photo. Additional bonus: my boss now thinks that I am the greatest thing since sliced bread.

All good things must come to an end

2004-05-03T17:54:00.000-04:00

Today is the last day of my vacation :( Tomorrow starts the full time summer work schedule. This will be the first time I've ever done the 9 to 5 thing, which is kind of cool in many ways. It will be nice to know that I never have to work on the weekends or evenings, and I can make plans more than 3 days in advance. Not to mention the steady source of income.

But with the new job schedule comes the down side to having a new job. I'll still be working at the wonderful archives where I've been the past 2 years, and I'll still be a Graduate Reference Assistant, but only half the time. The rest of the time, I'll be discovering the strange and mysterious world of archival processing. So I've resigned myself to a few weeks of not having any idea of what's going on, and generally feeling incompetent. Sigh. At least I'll have my old job at the same time to balance things out, since I'm a darn good reference assistant. I'm sure I'll learn some very useful things, get something else to put on my resume, and probably build some character in the process.

I just really liked sleeping in.

2004-05-02T18:27:00.000-04:00

It seems that having soggy shoes builds character. Despite it being 38 degrees and raining this morning, I managed to pull my butt out of bed at 5:45 in order to participate in the Metro Grand Spring Tour with the parents and our biking buddy, John From Ann Arbor.

The ride started at one park, went along roads to another park, and then back to the starting point. The main reason I was there, however, was the promise of all-you-can-eat pancakes at the halfway point. Our motto is "Will Bike For Food." This was the first bike ride of the season, and not long after exams, so "woefully out of shape" does not begin to describe my physical state. Nonetheless, I was feeling pretty optimistic after the first half, 12.5 miles out, even though I couldn't really feel my fingertips, and my right foot was pretty much dead weight. After managing to catch the panackes flipped my way, and sitting inside for a little while, I was perfectly happy to continue on.

And then we noticed the rain had picked up. But no problem. We were fed, feeling pretty good. We would just ride a little faster. And then we realized that during the first half of the ride, the wind had been at our backs. The opposite direction was not so much fun. By the time we got back to the car, the legs were burning and I had pretty much slowed to a crawl. Not to mention the fact that I needed to wring out my socks.

But now I can feel properly superior in my hard-core dedication to physical activity and conveniently ignore the fact that most of the time I'm a lazy bum. All in all, it was worth it. Assuming I can walk tomorrow.

2004-04-30T15:46:00.000-04:00

Ack! First-post anxiety! I let Srah talk me into starting this in a weak moment, so I haven't really thought this out. So we'll see where inspiration strikes. There will probably be thoughts on biking, belly dancing, the joys of becoming an information professional, all interspersed with stories of the wild and wacky hijinks my friends drag me into. Whatever new and interesting things I come across.
Hello World!!