The Wife: “Our kitchen smells like the garden center at Wal-Mart now”

We moved all the plants inside from the balcony because of the wind. The star jasmine has just started blooming, and the smell takes me back to spring days at USD. They had star jasmine lining the fronts of Camino and Founders, and, oh, it was heaven walking to class in spring.

Speaking of wind, I got this text message last night: "The wind is the gayest phenomenon in the world."

Amen to that.

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Implied, of course, is that I’ve been making headway with that book. Sixteen more pages!

I’m in the stacks and it’s kind of cold in here. On the window next to me, someone left a right-handprint– a dude, I’m assuming, judging by the span of those fingers. And I’m trying to figure out 1) what provoked him to press his hand so firmly against the window that it would leave such a thorough imprint and 2) why his hands were so oily. Or is the glass just that easily marred? Maybe I should find out. Hold on.

Okay: Yes, it’s a dude’s hand and yes, his hand was greasier than normal. Or my hands are just drier (cleaner?) than normal? I pressed really hard and for a long time, and all I got were prints off my fingertips and the heel of my palm. And even all that is pretty faint.

Tired. Not a whole lot of sleep last night, plus I’m coming down from a 20-hour glow. Maybe longer? Interspersed, though, yesterday, with an afternoon meltdown that I’d been trying to stave off since I’d woken up. But, oh! Today! Today’s just been pulsations of glow and thrill and uncontainable bubbles of laughter and joy. I’m being ridiculous, of course, and likely none of the silly notions in my head today will ever come to fruition, but I like having them there for the time being. They give me hope. And I got to chat with that professor for almost 45 minutes today, and friggin’ biscuits and gravy, that was fantastic. And! I’m starting to catch up on my emails! So, yay, me. I’m having a productive little Tuesday, and now it’s time to get back to class.

Because you need *something* appropriate to transport the holy water?

Not to be all narcissistic (because I know it gets SO OLD, how
self-involved I am), but I just saw pictures from the Aruba
anniversary, and– to use a recently-acquired phrase– holy buckets, internet, I looked something kinda adorable!
Aww. I was running late that night (surprise) so I pretty much got
dressed and ran out the door. It bears repeating: holy buckets! And,
aww. (They both bear repeating.)

Sunday reflections

1. Can you really call it a recipe for frozen yogurt when it amounts to "Add sugar to yogurt, put in ice-cream maker, ta-da!"? That’s like saying you have a recipe for making ice.

2. Apparently flour has an expiration date. Even when it’s been stored in an airtight container for three years, yeah, that’s two years too long, kiddo.

3. The Banilla protein drink from Trader Joe’s tastes like their Just The Clusters vanilla granola, pureed. Which is not a compliment.

4. If you try to dump a newly-opened 2-liter bottle of root beer into a 3.5-liter pitcher, you’ll only get about one liter of the root beer poured before the rest of the pitcher fills up with foam. FACT.

5. We have seedlings!! Hello, suburban farming.

The Grammarification of Mimi

She could have said "This is secret / ‘tween you and me" and 1) not lost anything in terms of cadence or rhyme or meaning and 2) not have triggered one of my (albeit drastically smaller) pet peeves. Though it 3) still would have been an annoying song. But granted, there are 7) even more annoying songs getting in equally heavy rotation right now, and 8) I have no idea why my numbering skipped 4-6 and I only just now noticed the gap but 9) oh well, they wouldn’t have been very important items anyhow.

One of my favorite quotes of his was from Phil. of God: “Careful, dinosaurs! Don’t step on the zebras!”

I swung a 90 on my geo exam and I’m honestly doubting I could have successfully contested the "coded messages from Mars" answer, so I guess not giving into that temptation was for the best after all.

One of the three reasons I minored in Phil during first undergrad was because of a professor– the chair of the department, actually, who taught the Honors section of Logic, which was the first Phil class I ever took at USD. I adored him so much that I ended up taking every single class he taught while I was at USD, all of which applied to my minor. (The other two reasons being that I really like philosophy and our GE requirements made it so that I only needed to take two or three extra classes to get the minor.)

A geo minor would be different. This professor doesn’t teach that many other classes, and certainly not the ones required to fulfill a minor. He does, however, teach Geo Engineering, which is required by my CivE major, so I’ve at least got *that* to look forward to. And Hydro. He teaches the hydro classes. But in order to take Hydro, I’d have to take three or four extra classes that can’t be applied to CivE, so they would be purely for the hydro classes, and the ridiculous part is I am *actually* considering it. I’m infatuated, plain and simple. If– if he came in a closer-to-my-age-bracket version? I would be all over that. And, I mean, it’s his personality, yes, and his dry humor, but *dude*. He has degrees in geo and physics and engineering and hydro! What in that recipe isn’t to like? I would still be bugging him during his office hours except I’ve been on hiatus from my book and thus have no foundations for a Q-and-A session with him.

On another note, I voluntarily submitted myself to an extra helping of E&M this afternoon by sitting in on the *other* section. I’d heard enough about that section’s professor that I was insanely curious to see the guy in action, and it was well worth the mental anguish of having to listen to another 75 minutes of flux and capacitance and solar radiation. He’s fantastic! But I can’t say that I like him better than my E&M professor. He’s just different, but in a very funny way.

I *love* that mug. It’s an engineering mug! On how to engineer– yeah!– a mug!

One of the questions on my exam this morning was about why meteorites are useful in figuring out the earth’s composition, and one of the answer choices was: "Because they contain coded messages from Mars." And I REALLY REALLY wanted to mark that as my answer, except I sort of fell asleep before I got around to studying, which meant hardcore gangsta cramming at 7 a.m., which meant I needed all the right answers I could muster. But had I been (slightly) better prepared for this exam and had the wiggle room for it, I *so* would have chosen that for my answer. And then contested it when the graded exams were returned.

The professor cautioned us, before handing out the exams, to not fall into the traps of senioritis and spring fever during these final weeks of the semester. The former doesn’t apply to me, but his mentioning of the latter made me hopeful. You mean this behavior is widespread? It’s practically a *condition*? I’m not alone? YES! Because I have. I’ve been slacking. And not because I don’t care, I DO care, I just– I don’t know. But now I don’t have to know because I am afflicted by a named condition. Why did I skip physics class for a full week? Spring fever. Why am I in the library writing this instead of in the computer lab working on my MatLab assignment? Spring fever!

And so, spring fever is to be blamed for the hour-plus I spent last night juicing. At, what was it, 1 a.m.? I was standing in the kitchen juicing, by hand– by HAND– a huge bowl of oranges that were still good but too old to eat, while The Wife sat on the floor of the dining room (nook? area?) and planted seeds in little starter pots. And now that I’ve just written that, I’m beginning to realize that our lives make us seem like we are constantly on drugs.

Anyway. After I finished the oranges, I realized I had a huge bowl of black grapes in the fridge that were in the same condition, so I juiced those, too. Because my juicer is a handy-dandy two-in-one-er like that.

And crap. Do you know how hard it is to juice a friggin’ grape? DISPROPORTIONATELY HARD. But! The end result! Was grape juice that was a thousand times better than anything I’ve ever bought from the store!

Even The Wife, who informed me that she does not like grape juice (tragic, I know), commended my grape juice.

So, yeah. I– I was juicing things instead of studying. It happens. And then during the whole exam, it was just a symphony of sniffles and sneezes and I was just so amused by everything, and then I hit that question about the meteorite and it was practically all over from there. I would get a geo minor just to take more classes from that professor, just to have so many more opportunities to pick his brain and talk to him about studies and experiments and theories and what-not.

Quarter to noon. I should start thinking about getting to work on that lab. I’d rather take a nap. Man.

And it keeps knocking over my plants, that asshole

For the last couple of weeks, it’s been windy as fuck all. I’m all for the occasional cool breeze, but: 1) these are hardly "breezes" and certainly NOT "occasional", and 2) "cool breezes" are an endangered species out here in the desert. Even in winter. In winter, when the air moves, it’s *piercingly* cold. Desert air just kind of sucks all around.

Anyway. This wind, it’s windy, and it’s nonstop, and today more than usual, it’s really unsettled me. I don’t like this weather. Rain, I love. Rain cleanses. Rain falls on a city and rinses away the impurities, however temporarily. Rain brings back moisture, which means it puts more water into the system, and water is essential to life, so by associative properties, rain contributes life.

Wind, on the other hand, is just a total shithead force of nature. Wind thrives on creating utter chaos. Wind kicks things out of the city and hustles new trash in without rhyme or reason. Because we are a desert city and because we never stop building things, wind fucks up our air quality even more and makes breathing outside that much suckier. Wind embodies Fitzgerald’s opinion of the American mindset as evidenced in "The Great Gatsby": it descends upon a city out of nowhere, makes a total mess of things, then leaves on a whim with no regard to setting things right again. Wind claims no responsibility for the damage it does.

It’s bad timing, too, I guess. The move’s made me vulnerable, being a kind of huge life transition or what-have-you. All this wind just keeps reminding me that garbage is garbage no matter how far it gets blown from its original location.