I'm sorry; what was that?

Royalty likes my shirt!

A self-conceptualization, concocted over the past coupla weeks

If self-conceptualization is the word I want...let me tell you a story, from oh, say, about thurs 14 avril.

Me: My grandmother and I both admire you. You're really an inspiration for women everywhere.
Queen Noor: How sweet - please thank her for me...(slight pause, still looking up) I really like your shirt!
Me: Why, thank you! (trying to sound suave)
Queen Noor: Where did you get it?
Me: Belgium. (slightly less suave; I can't believe that this person, who my grandmother and I have worshipped for years, is actually speaking to me)
Queen Noor: Oh, really! The beading is lovely - it looks Arab. (some other stuff about how pretty it is)
Me: Thank you so much! (by this point, far too excited, like when I met Kevin Spacey and my ankle got a weird tic) (and then, here with Queen Noor, I almost fell over. it was one of my finer moments.)

And I got free baklava! Thanks are in order to Kamal, who came along; Jeff, the doorman, and Kamal's old student, who let me slip in early; and the angry man, who showed up late and wasn't granted entry, but conned his way into the antechamber, where he proceeded to pitch a very loud fit. Fun!

The previous weekend, 9-10 avril, consisted of cherry blossoms and live music and loads of people, at Tidal Basins; and waterfalls, Great Falls, at national parks. The following weekend, 16-17 avril, was...well, I've forgotten what Saturday was, but Sunday was a different waterfall, Fallingwater, courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright. Do I like Pennsylvania? Yes, but oh, how I miss Atlanta, Tennessee, anywhere with a lower latidudinal measurement, where they have good grub. Fried okra, grits, sweet tea...oh, the sweet tea. Spencer's aunt and uncle, from Marietta, understand. You can't add sugar after the fact; it doesn't do its job. Which is why, as anyone who goes to lunch with me knows, I must go through the litany: do you have: sweet tea (it's iced, with sugar added...never mind), lemonade, water (do you have any cucumber to go in that?), etc. Nouveau Southern cuisine is somewhat unexpectedly, yet bitterly, missed in my little household. Southern culture is more evident, and lovelier still, when removed from it after 23 years of near-constant immersion.

I was off my feed for a few days, most of this week, but I began a new workout regimen on Thursday evening, to the plaintive strains of Moby, which embiggened my hunger for Friday. So I'll call it a fast, and feel cleansed, rather than empty-stomached and sad. The reward system is ingenious. Timeliness, fitness, vocabulary memorization: reward! Whether it be the keys to a lovely speedy car, or a jetski, or a new indie rock cd, or something else entirely.

I shall consider cities: Tampa was warmer, though I don't mind the cold in DC as much as I expected to. Orlando inspires Thelma-and-Louise-type sensations. I'd thought of joining the French Foreign Legion, but if you'll refer back to the "about me" section, you'll note that I am a girl, and thus disqualified; also, it would seem that the seedier sort had a tendency to join, in the past, which could explain the no-females rule, though it could be a fun adventure. The Peace Corps, better men than I have warned me against, though it would certainly be fun. But would Home Depot, home of the cute orange aprons, ship a shower to North Africa? Johnson City is sweet, and Atlanta, while heavily suburbed, wasn't utterly horrific. Tampa could be the best yet, of cities I've officially lived in; DC has too much to do, and so you do less than you would elsewhere, say, in Tampa. I might give it all up and go teach English in some other country. France or Belgium might top the list.

I shall consider people: Who would qualify to be rated as "my boy _____," or "my girl _____"? PG Wodehouse, TS Eliot, Leo Kottke. Johnny Depp, and Erik Alfred Leslie Satie. Avedon, maybe? Magritte, clearly. Billy Corgan. Dali was kinda cute, his style, anyway. Rimbaud, es bien possible. Angelina, that's obvious. Jenny Lewis! Lauren Bacall, I think. Queen Noor, now. Rickie Lee Jones. Who is missing? I had that teacher, in high school, who refused to use contractions. It's not a bad idea, if you want to sound affected.

I shall consider names: If it weren't already taken, Tales of the Milk-Drinker, or I suppose, as is more factually accurate, Tales From the Milk Drinker, wouldn't be a bad name. Also, his haunts have lovely names: Second Cup, Snooty Fox. On the other hand, I'd appreciate it if everyone out there would remind me to never ever become a bodybuilder.

I shall consider.

My cupidon, my only friend,
I'm out of love; this is the end.

Have you ever seen a prettier day? Have you read this already, in email form?

I'm stuck at work, indoors on the best day in the history of days, but my current task involves editing my latest country book, which is pretty fun. And I'm listening to one of the cds Leslie made for me, and trying to figure out what the song names are, since she never provides that info (Kali and I should gang up on her) (currently: Stellastarr, “My Coco”). Day: not so bad! New purse (new to me. $3.50 at thrift store; it’s really fab, like a saddlebag), LOVELY weather, and when spring gets to this point, I just spend my days being so happy I almost cry. And I had “Trader Giotto’s Eggplant Parmesan” for lunch. Tasty! I need to be out, and gone. Go travel somewhere, or explore something, or have one of my biannual hike-until-I-find-the-source-of-the-river treks. Joy, energy coursing through veins; yes, it’s a great day! And we get 59 mins thanks to the nice weather! Could I be any happier? Not much, I tell ya. If I were wearing something less workish and twirling around on a mesa, then maybe.

PS Pamela has roses, which I’ve been snuffling, and there’s currently a meeting about the Timbuktu documentary going on, with "Hollywood types" (Pamela, email, 6 Apr 05), which I should be in, and I’m sure it’s interesting, but the thoughts of being cooped up in an upstairs room make me sick, so I’m not. I’m watching people play tennis and eat snacks off of this table outside that I’ve been thinking of mooching food from all afternoon. If I had a tennis costume with me, there’d be no question.

For Unnie, my best friend:

Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, dear Unnie!
Happy birthday to you!

And maaaaaany mooooooore!

Today marks 75 years for the most wonderful man I know! He was my first dance partner, he taught me how to brush my teeth, he's the best person I know at telling animal stories, and whenever I wanted to go to Matthew's to see the fains, he'd take me. I love you, Unnie!

Sleep eludes me

Too tired to be witty; too tired even to upload past instances of mild wittiness. Guess the only thing left to do is work.

Why is this worthy of posting?

As I was driving home from work today, I saw a dark blue convertible Beetle in one lane, and right next to it, just to the right, there was a silver Mini. Refer back to the title of this post. Why is this worth an entry, you ask? It just is. It made me happy to see my two favorite cars right next to each other, in what used to be my two favorite colors, for many years. And then they turned out to be the colors of my high school, and my undergrad. How handy! If any of you are still looking to get me a welcome-back present, either of those two cars would do. But for the VW, I'd like Harvest Moon Beige, or the Mini in British Racing Green or Solid Gold. Okay, thanks! Now back to the Simpsons...

This is an outrage! A 149-character limit in the "title" block: ridiculous! What were they thinking?

When I eat sesame crepes (popular in Vietnam, selon Trader Joe's), I feel like a squirrel, filling my cheeks with seeds and peanut butter from one of those birdseed bells you buy for birds, or a homemade one, lovingly crafted by animal-friendly children. Nibble, nibble, nibble. Sesame crepes are especially tasty with hot tea: weak green tea, or that really yummy broth-flavored British tea, or some mild black tea. Haven't tried it with white or red, but I'm sure that'd be tasty, too.

For lunch today, I went with Dr. B for Lebanese food over in/past Crystal City. Let me tell you, I have never had such good Lebanese food, and I've always been a wholehearted advocate of the Lebanese-restaurant cause. But this stuff was amazing! I had thought we were just heading over to grab a shawarma sandwish, but we got the full thing: tons of mezze (seven or so of them: kibbeh, falafel, tabbouleh, baba ghanouj, pickled vegetables, bread of course, etc.), a fabulous fette with lamb (not usually available in restaurants, as so much preparation has to go into it), rice pudding (with strawberries), the usual tea with mint, and "white coffee" (hot water with rose and orange waters and honey; it's supposed to be really good for you). Fully incredible. Also, we made friends with the owner, and since I could read the proverb above the door to him (though I couldn't translate it), he gave me free dessert! I am fully stuffed. Beautiful decor, too. The wife, who actually does the cooking, is Lebanese, and the owner/husband is Syrian. Heavenly.

Then, after work, I went to visit the Jefferson memorial, which is very possibly my favorite, since I drive right by it every day and look over. The building is the prettiest in Washington, too, and it's surrounded by cherry trees. And this time, I walked the other way around the Tidal Basin, and saw FDR for the first time! It was rather attractive, particularly the one statue of him in his wheelchair, alone in the middle of an open area. It was right by there that I saw my first robin of spring, this year, and maybe the darkest squirrel I've ever seen, nibbling on something that was on the sidewalk. I watched him for a few minutes, and he ran in small circles around me, checking to see if I had anything good to eat.

We wanted to make it back in time for the showing of Ray, so the Netflix delivery could be cancelled, but we missed it by about seven minutes, so instead we went to Robots (with the Ice Age 2 trailer!), and Sin City will be tomorrow (really today, since I'm typing past midnight). We tried for Sin City tonight, but both showings were sold out, and in the bout of Robots v Upside of Anger, Robots won. Battlestar Galactica! Battle of the Bands! Craft Corner Deathmatch! Robots the victor.

I will be sewing again, soon. I've been getting some good ideas and sketching them out, and now it's just a question of taking scissors to cloth. It would be nice if my dressform had a stand.

Gathering rosebuds while I may...

There are even more by the o-club, and down along the water:

(Also, the o-club has surprisingly tasty meatloaf. The best I've had, maybe, except for the ones where Mom and I are free and easy with the horseradish; and then, of course, Mimi's and my secret-recipe meatloaf is a sure-fire winner. So, all right, the best *restaurant* meatloaf I've had. But it was very good.)

I guess I hushed up my hyacinth-brutality thing pretty effectively, because Pamela, today, offered me her Easter lily to care for while she's off for the next couple of days. She's had the prettiest flowers in her office recently. Roses and lilies, every day. The entire campus, really, is covered in tiny cornflower-blue and purple-colored flowers. And there are daffodils and assorted colors of tulip. I see, now, why people claim that it's as good as any park.

This is a holiday message from the Alert! Alexandria public alert service

Happy Easter to everyone! May it be full of candy and eggs and bunnies. And small stuffed-animal Peeps peeking out from an aloe plant, like mine!

Wading in the water in search of the soul...

(Me Phi Me, Revival!) Earlier this evening, I was (re)baptized, in a really beautiful Easter candlelight vigil ceremony. There was a fire in the courtyard, and we all stood around it, keeping warm and trying to avoid the smoke, more or less. It felt very timeless, standing in a courtyard filled with graves, surrounded by people in robes. Lovely. And then we processed in from there with all of the rectors and priests and the people carrying the cross and candles and all, and there were motets, and the lights were gradually raised until just before the baptism, when everything became really bright. And we each got a certificate and a special candle. Oh, yes, and I was finally able to meet Mpho Tutu, Desmond Tutu's daughter, who is in the resident clergy program here.

The water and oil only touched my bangs, though. Am I safe?

Fabulousness!

a. If we don't hire a new community affairs person in time for Botswana (which we were supposed to, but now it's looking very iffy due to waiting for funding, the same funding bill that the entirety of DOD is waiting for), then I get to go! (!!!) Rock it on out! (I wasn't sure whether or not I'd get to, since after Nigeria's astronomical expense, ECA only has 5 people budgeted for Botswana, not 6, and a new comaff would need the training.)
b. I am returning to my technogeek roots; I now distribute the daily media review, and I may start to post it on the web. I'll also be working on expanding the distribution list and creating a listserv.
c. That kinda covers it. But...let's just chant it all together now: Botswana! Botswana! Botswana! Rock it on out.

The last Constantine I really liked, died 1290 years ago

I'm ever-so-slightly ashamed to admit it, since it's yet another reality tv show, pandering to television viewers, but my mom has me watching American Idol. At least it's better than ANTM, and Joe Millionaire. While I was away, she sent me reviews of AmId performances, and updates on who was in/out, and so now... I'm not hooked, mind you, but I follow the results, and we talk on the phone as they sing to conduct play-by-play evaluations. If that's not detachment, I don't know what is!

Honestly, it doesn't much matter to me who wins, but I have preferences and anti-preferences.
+: Anthony, Anwar, Bo, Carrie, Nadia
~: Nikko, Vonzell (I don't specifically like them, but they're much preferable to:)
-: *Constantine*, Jessica, *Mikalah*, Scott (I am so sick of watching Constantine give his creepy, faux-sexy, flirty looks at the camera. Yick. Ooh! It's melting my heart! Oh, it's meltin somethin.)

Now, weren't you all dying to know my expert advice? Really, though, if Mikalah stays longer than 9:30 tonight, I'll be shocked.

Yes, and Constantine the movie (2005). Was Keanu Reeves really being tongue-in-cheek? I don't know if I really suspect him of wry irony, though that would certainly raise my opinion of him, quite a bit. No, I believe we just got our thousandth close-up of a dark, brooding, intelligent-yet-believably-cool Keanu, the only one who can save humanity from a vast evil. Our hundred-thousandth wideshot of Keanu wearing black. The devil was played tritely, as well. When did I first see Constantine? Oh, about 1992. Or was that another movie? I get them all confused. The one really redeeming quality of that movie, which everyone immediately knew that I would like, was the white outfit that Gabriel (Tilda Swinton) wears, all white, near the end. The tank top(s?), and the pants with the laces at the bottom. Lovely. That, and that alone, is what garnered Constantine such a high rating in my list.

And the Tacos Parilla are even better!

Friday will be his last day here, so a few of us (me, Spencer, Elisabeth, Jen, Connie, Holly, Victoria, Leslie, Geneve, Kamal, Cliff...and I'm probably forgetting a couple of others) took Dr. E and his wife out to the Banana Cafe (with bright yellow walls and fun, traditional masks) for dinner. Rather a fantastic night. There were pitchers of margarita, but Spencer and I had mojitos, à la Hemingway in Cuba, and I had Chilies Relleno, stuffed with spinach and mushroom. Tasty! Dr. E's wife was there, and Geneve's wife, and there were many amusing foreign service stories flying between the two of them, plus Connie, who was also in, back in the day. "I think I lost my cool" and all that. So it turned out to be a really lovely evening, reminiscing of Nigeria and of all of the fun we've had together, and talking of future trips to climb various mountains in various countries; Kamal (Dr. B) took loads of photos.

On Friday, we're having an all-hands, so we'll have some cakes and so on for the March birthdays and to say good-bye to Dr. E and Mike Jelen, who has done some really brilliant things with our buildings and is currently working with me on the bathroom project. And we'll be getting our Taste of NDU Best-Appetizer and Best-Side-Dish certificates and prizes. And speaking of cakes, and bringing a very short blog entry full-circle back to Dr. Emerson, it was thanks to these cakes that we'll be nibbling on Friday that Dr. E had matches in his office on Monday, which he let me use at 9:00 am to light Pamela's birthday candles. Handy! Since I stopped by the grocery store on the way in to work on Mon to buy candles (which, as it turned out, we already had an overly ample supply of), but we had nothing to light them with, and anyone who smokes:

a. no longer works here,
b. wasn't at work by 9:00 on Mon/took the day off, or
c. decided, the previous night, to quit smoking, and removed all smoking gear (including lighter) from her purse to remove temptation.

So Dr. E saved the day! And we all wish him well, raking and researching.

Wooden shoes: If I could eat anything right now, it'd be that wonderful vegetable soup with cream that they served one lunch in Abuja

Dulles (2 Mar) to Amsterdam to Abuja to Frankfurt to Amsterdam to Groningen to Amsterdam to Brussels to Bruges to Brussels to Köln to Frankfurt. Back to Dulles (16 Mar). In the space of two weeks, that ain't bad. Really, the trouble came when I tried to decide which country I loved most of all. All went swimmingly, in both Nigeria and Europe, and Leslie and I got along amazingly well. My goal, when travelling, is to experience the country, in the way that not even the natives do; see the sights and do everything I can as quickly yet thoroughly as possible, while still sitting in the sidewalk cafes, and watching and breathing. And then I sleep while on airplanes or trains, which is clearly the best time to sleep because you miss the least. She let me sleep on her shoulder while we were on trains, and while she wrote letters and so on. We shared her ipod. And since she used to row on crew team, she could lift my rolly bag up and down stairs, though later on, I discovered that I could do that by myself when I needed to. And I can also lift it into overhead storage on trains, though that’s a little iffier, and for a moment it was touch-and-go whether or not I would smash the Nigerian guy’s head, until the German policeman came to the rescue.

The flight into Ams was on time, but after we landed, we had to wait 2.5 hours (during which we watched a silent gag reel) for a gate to open up because all the other planes were waiting to be de-iced. So I didn't think that I'd be able to go downtown, b/c Spencer was anti, but then Jim the Notetaker wanted to, so in the space of 2.25 hours, we made it downtown, walked to Dam Square, got souvenirs (I got a pair of Amsterdam socks and 3 postcards), walked back, took an hour-long boat tour (with adorable Dutch ducks [some with yellow and white mohawks!] in all the canals), and made it back to the airport. Oh, and we saw ads for The Life Aquatic in Dutch. It was cold, and very wet, but incredibly fun, with an odd surrealist billboard just across from where we all get on the tour cruises; when I'm next there, I'll have to go to the Anne Frank house, the Van Gogh museum, and a diamond-cutter. Then there were no baggage-loaders at Ams, so after we got on the plane, we waited another 2 hrs to leave, but a couple of hours later, on the way south, I flew over Algeria! So close I could almost touch it. It was wonderful... nighttime, and cloudy, mostly, but I saw clusters of lights like cities, and a bit of land maybe.

We landed in Abuja at night, and got in to the hotel about midnight, with an armed escort. The city was ceaselessly wonderful, with large and colorful lizards, and facilities tours, and indescribably lovely business schools that look like shacks, and people everywhere, always walking, eternally social, and warmth, finally, after the frigid yet beautiful Amsterdam (though I'm still sad that I didn't see Kano, a much older city in the north). My bag arrived safely (a miracle)!! I got to bed insanely late, my first night, because of talking to Leslie and waiting for my iron (which they actually let me keep the whole week - normally they come and collect it. The ironing board had holes in it, but it was sweet and pretty, with flowers). Breakfasts were tasty...a huge buffet. I had some Nigerian things (like [oki?]: greens and onion and junk), and rice and bean, and "pan cakes" and other little goodies. Watermelon and French toast, and I tried a weird juice (zomo?), but drank apple juice. The yogurt is gross. Like a drink. Like it's been sitting out for a few hours. But the Fanta and Coke bottles are glass, tall and thin, and the Fanta one was ribbed. Very pretty. The tv channels were fabulous. There were great movie channels, and 3 Arabic ones (yay! I left it on so it could seep in), and French (TV5 of course) and so on. And a number of sporting channels (I now watch rugby). It really was fabulous...work became fun, since we were all in one room and chatting. We spent our days greeting and registering participants (Fri/Sat/Sun), handling the media (Mon-Fri, especially Mon), and talking to the participants. Oh, and running MERLN courses. There was a cultural night, with a huge buffet and music and dancing, and native dancing at the closing ceremony. I got mild food poisoning once, and I got a massive red thing on my back (which apppeared on Mon 7 Mar). Danielle said it was hives, so Pamela sent me to the embassy doctor with Jessica, which was a huge and wonderful adventure all around town, and at the wrong embassy, and she said that it was only like a billion mosquito bites - but I got to leave the hotel again! And I was the star of the ops room, with everyone oohing and ahing over my bites. I flooded the bathroom regularly because the shower curtain was incompetent, but the maids, who were wonderful, came in and cleaned it up for me, and I no longer had to squish through. Oh, and we went to Indian restaurants, and three different markets! I learned all about haggling in Nigeria, thanks to Spencer's notetaker from Lagos who told me all about how Nigerian mailboxes (or the lack thereof) work. And boy, did I pump money into the Nigerian economy! I bought a traditional dress, loads of fabric, paintings, jewelry, etc. It really was a breathtaking country, and I've fallen in love with Africa.

From Abuja to Frankfurt (a nightflight, you know), they had me next to Holly next to Leslie next to Brooke, and Monde (who promised to buy me a necklace like hers) and Pamela nearby. So basically, they were being truly dumb if they thought anyone near us would be sleeping. It was a very fun flight. And then Europe, as predicted, was fab fab fab. Fabulous. And everything went really well, considering that I speak essentially no German or Dutch or Flemish. I managed to forget the word for ‘yes’ in Dutch while in the Netherlands (it’s ‘ja’), and I had to consult my phrasesheet. Leslie laughed at me. I’d been trying to order fries in Dutch; harder than you might think. It seems that I said 'ja' to mayo, when I wanted ketchup, and I never ever ever eat mayo. Ever. But Arjen fixed it for us. Leslie’s friends and the party were wonderful. We were walking home with them (Arjen and his girlfriend were showing us the way back to the hotel) at 4:30 am, and Arjen bought a wall “hamburger sandwich” so that I could see how it works, and he let me have a bite of it – you put money in the wall, and open the window, and get your food! Like 1950s-era US food, I think. It was tremendously exciting. Oh! And I saw a mini-red light district! And loads, hundreds, thousands, of bikes. Everyone there rides bikes, and in Groningen, recently voted the safest city in the Netherlands, the big crime is stealing bikes, and hanging them from fences.

And then Belgium (we went on Sunday), Brussels (Sun/Mon/Tues) and Bruges (side trip on Mon), was AMAZING. Absolutely wonderful. I want to move to Bruges, or somewhere near there. More ducks! More canals! Lovely. And Erzsi the friend in Brussels was very cool. The first night we were there, though, we weren’t sure whether or not we’d be spending a second night, so after dinner, I took off to explore the city. I was on the way to a famous statue and a couple of other ancient cafés, and the Palais Royal. And it was all so lovely. I saw the first of a series of pianos outside (I have a collection of photos now, outside-pianos-covered-in-tarps in different countries). And then all was well until I decided to turn back and take a picture of this truly gorgeous church that I hadn’t photographed the first time I walked by, thinking it might not turn out, and it wouldn’t convey the emotion I felt as I looked at it. But it was so beautiful I had to. So after I made it to the church, I somehow missed my turn. And suddenly I was off the map and highly misplaced. And there was lots of construction about, and this truly odd man walked up and started talking about how loud my shoes were (they were echoing, since the streets were all deserted, since it was about 1:30 on a Sunday night in the highly iffy part of town). Other people came up, too. And at that point, I was at least a 45-min walk from the hotel, and I’d pretty much had it, but there were no taxis about to hail. So I was heading on, when I saw a woman! And I was just desperate enough to approach and ask for directions. So she pointed me in the right direction, but then decided to be incredibly nice and offered to drive me back. So she did. And I got her address so I can write and thank her.

Then the next day was Bruges, and food, and a church that claims to have some of Jesus’s blood. I tried to climb the huge tower (Leslie was going to head off and shop), but it was closed. And there was shopping. At the airport back in Frankfurt, Victoria had said that I’m art deco. I don’t entirely understand, but according to Leslie, all the clothes I bought in Belgium reaffirmed it. Who would have thought of shopping while on vacation? Leslie, that’s who. I got into the swing of it and bought 4 shirts. Two are lovely and have vague beading, but not crappy like most beaded shirts. The third is like a sheer version of the top half of a Victorian dress. And the last is kinda workish, but with stripes and two pieces that wrap around and tie. There were these pants, too, best pants ever, and I mean ever, but they worked out to about $175, so I had a good laugh and moved on. And we really were good shopping partners. I know fabrics and seams and cuts and all, since I sew, and she just has rockin taste. So anyway, post-Bruges, we went back to Brussels, and the next morning, Tuesday, early, Leslie left, to go back to Frankfurt, and Dulles, and Dupont Circle. And I missed her, of course. But then, when it was just me…oh, it was heavenly, being totally free and self-sustaining, and having no one at all on the continent that I knew. I went around Bruges (Tues morn), and resolved a train mix-up without reverting to English at all. And then I took the train to Köln. I sat next to a very nice elderly French gentleman who was also fluent in German. And it was extra-helpful because he could translate for me when the Nigerian guy behind me was getting deported (!). Extra-exciting was the fact that I convinced both the Nigerian guy and the German police that I was totally on their respective sides. The Germans kept winking at me and helped me with my luggage, and the Nigerian guy shouted something unintelligible with a message of solidarity as he was being hauled off at the next stop. And then I got out and saw the cathedral, which was awe-inspiring, and I bought a rosary. And I talked to a priest for a bit, and bought and lit a candle. And I wandered around, and saw part of the main museum by the cathedral from the outside since I didn’t have much time, and talked to some Iraqis. And then I hopped on the train for Frankfurt (Tues at 19:15ish), and got to the hostel. And there was a girl named Kim who was checking in at the same time I was. She’s a 36-yr-old biologist from California, married to a Ukrainian and on her way back from a vacation in Egypt. So basically, a perfect person. And we went and explored the city and had many adventures, with giant statues.

And then she left early the next morning (Wed), and I went to the church where Goethe was baptized and some other places around town, as well as the Goethe Haus and museum, and I got to see one of my favorite paintings (The Nightmare, though my less-favorite of Fuseli’s two renditions) up close! Truly exciting. And then I headed to pick up my bags and get on the metro, but the metro was quite confusing, and I couldn’t find anyone who spoke French or English. But there were these two Russian men who spoke about 10 words of English. And we had this very amusing 10-minute conversation trying to figure out the word for airport, which was ridiculously absent from my phrase sheet. So I was waving my arms like wings and making airplane noises, and they kept waving their arms to say zwei: eins (arms flap down, indicating that I stay on the train at the first stop), drei (same), zwei (arms push out, indicating that I get off at the third stop). And that repeated itself for about 10 min. It was fabulous. S-ocht (acht?): the train I take. But they were nice and helpful, and helped me move my rolly bag. And on the way home, I listened to wonderful music, and talked to the friendly Major beside me, Rob, about his shirt and the intricate horror that is Bridget Jones/Edge/Reason. Such a waste. Whatever happened to good movies on flights? Well, this is only the tip of the iceberg, sadly enough, of all I could say about the trip to Europe. Suffice it to say that it was fabulous, perfection, and I want to go back, to move there.

To see a world in a grain of sand...

...and two weeks' worth of clothing, ready for both snow and Africa, for both work and play, in two small bags, the two Eddie Bauer ones with the rugged, safari-like, Lara-Croft-esque appearance. Indeed, my good friends, I am packed and ready to go, and ready to eat free ice cream in celebration of ten years of yahoo, before I cry and then board. Riding on a plane, a crateful of aluminum, is one of the nicest things to do. No real responsibilities for a stretch of time. Your entire mission in life consists of reading a book or a magazine, or drawing, or watching the cruddiest and most mindless films imaginable ([27 Mar note] read: Bridget Jones/Edge/Reason and Shall We Dance? [the US version]), or talking with someone sitting near you, or learning key phrases in a foreign language (Wanneer vertrekt de trein naar Groningen/Schiphol?), or just enjoying the music that they play. And it certainly is wonderful. (note upon rereading, 27 Mar: I'm ashamed to admit it, but until IAD-AMS, I had never even heard of CocoRosie. Anyone who claims that "By Your Side" isn't lovely will have some splainin to do.) I wonder whether or not I'll buy a new digital camera today. Probably not, but it would certainly be nice to have one like...ooh, what was his name. I've forgotten his name; I'll look it up and then edit this, but my student in Tampa, the one with the camera that could fit into an Altoids tin. And if it happened to be a pretty shade of green, well then, so much the better. I'm looking forward to Nigeria, greatly, but also a little apprehensive; it's come so quickly that it almost resembles a loss of control, which is of course deplorable. But the country, the continent, the food, people, and culture, all of that, I can't wait to encounter. I can't get enough of it. And my six-hour European layover on the way will be used effectively. So wish me well, my friends, and I'll see you in two weeks, exactly, wishing it were four.

Sweet, fun, lovable drivers in Addis and Turkey

We all, all of us left at work, in ECA, plus Dr. E and Jen, got together at lunch today and made a meal out of tasty cheese that Spencer brought in, left over from his get-together this weekend, along with baguettes and red wine. We discussed driving in Africa, and other exciting places to be a motorist, and the Simpsons. Why can't more "working lunches" be like that one?

February: An introspective month

Well, it's been a busy month, and I haven't really had time to write much. February has been a month of "ramping up for Nigeria." A month of flowers and new earrings, and little notes. Of traumatizing welcome books, and Smithsonian Museums. Of linen. Oh, yes, and I saw a few movies for the first time, though I think I see more new ones, most months:

Shall we dansu?, School of Life, Hitch, Casablanca, Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari, Natural Born Killers, Secret Window, Valmont, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Zoolander, Constantine, Monster, Party Monster, Finding Neverland

Sea life

I'm swimming with guppies, with goldfish, even as we speak, but I dream of whales. I used to be tired; now I'm just collecting eggs from Hen and putting them all into one rickety basket called a Morrocan-Americain Trade NGO, without a working email address. If I had enough time to breathe and stretch and regain perspective, I would find that enormously funny; wouldn't you? But who has time for yoga in today's crazy world? Doesn't Johnny Depp look extraordinary in eyeliner? Do you prefer my elephant or my pig, Alligator or Kitten Goodness, Lion or Molly? Now he emotes! If I were to shut my eyes, now, I would fall asleep, and have sweet, strange dreams, like an apple tarte drizzled with tears. If I were to prendre une photo, maybe National Geographic would publish it. Or could I, should I, wait a couple of weeks? I love Chipotle! That's all I look forward to, anymore. As seen on the tar channel.

How to kill a hyacinth in five easy steps

They called me the hyacinth girl...and then it was all taken away. I discovered that, just like a butterfly, a hyacinth will bloom but once, indoors, and then the blossoms will fade away, and the plant will live on as shoots of green emerging from a dark and loamy soil, taunting with the merest hint of bloom, the merest hint of its erstwhile scent, but never fulfilling its false promise of renewed buds. Of course, according to hyacinth.com, all that would change if I were to transplant my beloved hyacinth, first beacon of spring, and of Easter, to an out-of-doors location. Put it in its natural environment, hyacinth.com says, and all will be well. But where would I put it? I'm not renting one of the garden plots, and it's probably too soon now, anyway, to put it outside; still somewhat frigid. Maybe I'll take it home and put it by the window, and when it gets a little warmer (the weather, that is, not my hyacinth), then I'll put it in a bigger pot and move it outside, on the porch. Then maybe it will look better.

Animal parts, and my love of salmon and sushi

The past few days I've been thinking a lot, about a topic that seems shallow but isn't always: makeup. Mascara, blush, lipstick, all that jazz. In America, we produce and use vast quantities of these products in the process of a neverending quest for eternal beauty and everlasting youth. If you really think about it, what's the purpose? We all grow old, with lines and wrinkles and pale, wispy hair. Makeup can't cover that up. Maybe it can render us temporarily more attractive, gain us a mate for the night, but in the long run, it's not your artful application of eyeshadow that makes someone want to stay with you. So in essence, it is by its very nature a quick fix, a temporary solution to a long-term "problem" - not having naturally purple eyelids. We spend outrageous sums of money on the stuff, a total of $45 billion a year in the US alone, but makeup takes time, too. Every day, there are certain "upkeep" sorts of activities that most of us do: we shower. We brush our teeth, hopefully twice. We brush our hair, eat, and answer nature's call, all the while trying to be productive, trying to do something with our lives. So then makeup just adds to this, adds to the 1.5+ hours of necessary daily activity. Applying it, removing it, cleaning your face so your pores don't get clogged. It's ridiculous.

But most importantly of all, more important than its superficiality, its inherent falsity and lies, and the money and time wasted while going through the cycle of application and removal, is how we produce it. All of this was brought on by a simple realization: every day, I spread a bit of dead animal on my face. Sure, I may be sporting less animal than people who wear foundation, and certainly less than that woman who walks by my office in the mink coat, but is any amount really appropriate? We kill the animal; use the animal to make an entirely unnecessary, intrinsically disposable product, going down the drain every night; and whatever we don't use up in a certain period of time, we throw away. Granted, this speaks to a deeper societal issue, the disposable nature of American culture, but anything we do will help. I think that we have a serious problem when we find it acceptable to treat life so callously, all in the name of beauty or fashion. I'm not a vegetarian, and I don't know if I ever will be again; I love fish too much, and Europeans do really genius things with beef. But I see no need to kill an animal just so I can look slightly more dramatic for a few hours.

And I have nothing against wearing makeup, in theory. I have to admit, I have a bit of a mascara addiction; I like my eyelashes. I like to cover up the circles under my eyes, since I never seem to sleep enough. But I don't think the level of importance that women accord it in their lives is by any means proper or healthy. Why would you waste five, ten, fifteen minutes of your precious day applying coat after coat of artificial color? We at least need to gain a little more perspective on the issue. If it must be worn, choose the application time wisely. And why not buy vegan makeup? I've started. It doesn't cost any more than normal drug-store makeup (to say nothing of the department-store makeup prices), it's kinder to animals, and frankly, it smells better. I can't find any good reason not to.

Gabriel Cosmetics (my favorite)
Honeybee Gardens
Burt's Bees
Hemp Organics is good, too; I don't think they have their own website yet, but they're highly googleable.

A UMich student writing about makeup
A blog about makeup

A sobering discovery, and a much more important loss.

I found out tonight that one of my undergrad professors has died (on 2 Dec) of injuries resulting from a car accident. Dr. Amy Jo Johnson, one of my history professors at Berry College, was my first Arabic teacher, and the person who sparked my interest in all things Middle Eastern. I worked for her, translating documents from French into English, and she introduced me to my husband. I understand, now, today's clarity of air, meant to brace me, and prepare me for a harsh world. I wish that I had maintained contact with her, and told her how much she meant to me. I don't think she ever knew. This, then, is dedicated to Dr. Johnson, to her parents, and to her first, and last, book. We'll all miss you.

A day. (and an ode to a lost coworker)

Which reminds me of "A Year," which makes me sad. Today, the geese were gone, as was the fog of yesterday, and the chill. It provided an end to a dreamworld, and a return to reality, which isn't always pleasant, is it, now? But the reality wasn't as unpleasant as expected; it was warmer. Except that today was Rich's last day, and he came around to say good-bye to us all, and I got teary, as I always do, though not as much as some. No more Rich, so more Simpsons impressions, no more random rib-cracking hugs for everyone he sees, and swinging feet. No more coming to fix my intranet and seeing that it was just unplugged. Oh, the humiliation. No more lovely aroma of pipe smoke, and sarcasm by the bucketful. Tigist was the first person at the Africa Center that he ever spoke to, and maybe the last ECA'er he spoke to today. But he'll be back. Heck, we're talking of bringing him over to Nigeria, along with the temp guy, and by then, maybe the new guy. How many IT people does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Three. Three, that's how many. We 59 minuted today, and I'm looking forward to going, even though all I did today was edit my Nigeria book, and the latest newsletter (boy, I love our current graphic artist), and listen to music. You want to know anything about Nigeria? Ask me, and I will tell you, and you will know. My llama understands me in the way that no one else does, sitting over on my inbox, being fluffy (and made from authentic llama fur! llama...wool.). Small smile, small grin, knowing that eventually I'll pack him up and we'll go elsewhere, and have adventures. But if we go to Senegal, I'm not shouting into any phones.

Katie's been gone for such a long time now

This is long, clearly, but if you scan down, there are other posts below, I promise. Thanks to Vicki (a true doll) for the use of a truly long survey from her site. I'd really like it if you, whoever you are, would fill it out, and then you could email it to me, your version. These are ridiculously fun, *Mom*, who started this craze back in the day.

~piercings: once, 8. now, 4, but I only use 2.

~tattoos: none, but I still think about that pi sometimes. not that I'll ever do anything about it.

~height: 5'9"

~hair: dark brown, short, Amelie.

~siblings: none. sadness.

LAST...

~movie you rented: Vanity Fair '98, The Man Who Would Be King

~movie you bought: The Battle of Algiers (Criteron), Napoleon Dynamite

~song you listened to: "Fly" off of Sahara Lounge

~song that was stuck in your head: the one from Chipotle that I want to know the name of :(

~cd you bought: Sahara Lounge, Cheb Mami, Rilo Kiley Take-Offs & L, Return of the Rentals, Garden State (brilliant)

~cd you listened to: Sahara Lounge

~person you've called: the French and Russian embassies

~person that's called you: Jamie, part deux

~tv show you've watched: Seinfeld, but I've seen it so often, I'd be happier to say it was the Simpsons or CYE or The Office or ArrDev. saw Daria last night.

~person you were thinking of: you

DO...

~you wish you could live somewhere else: yes. :( Paris? any takers? I'll settle for NYC, I suppose, though someplace less NYC-ish would be preferable.

~you believe in online dating: what other kind is there?

~others find you attractive: I'll click my heels.

~you want more piercings: nope, I'm good with what I have.

~you drink: yes, but not beer, never beer (amended: yes! sometimes beer, but only certain tasty types), but wine is water, and who dislikes martinis, really?

~you do drugs: heck no; I screw up my life well enough without them, thank you very much.

~you smoke: I've had a few cigars.

~you like cleaning: all right, that merits a laugh. it involves too much contact with messiness. I'll do it when the mood strikes. I like organizing, though, and unpacking after a move, with a scarf in my hair.

~you write in cursive or print: depends.

~you carry a donor card: I think? I have, I think I still do, but I've cleaned out my wallet, a lot. can't even find my moviewatcher card anymore.

FOR OR AGAINST...

~long distance relationships: it's hard, but in a way, enjoyable. wallow in the pain, and then you're happier when you see your sig-o.

~using someone: *against*; it's just falsification, which is the worst possible thing.

~killing people: !?!? umm, against! this is just getting silly. the answers, or the appropriate answers, to all of these, are just so obvious that it'd take a silly teen, trying to rebel, to answer otherwise. teenage smoking...I'm not bothering to respond. ahem to those of you out there who started smoking as teens.

FAVORITE...

~food: ooh. London broil? I like food in general. ginger snaps, molasses cookies, Goldfish. Bstella. Anything else Moroccan or Iraqi. I miss Bern's, and all my great Tampa restaurants. but DC's great for food. oh! carpaccio, and sushi. dear lord, those are tasty.

~song: this is harder. I'll just list currently-listening-to songs. I adore My Summer Girl, Sweetness and Tenderness, Plane Crash in C, anything on Sahara Lounge or my Cheb Mami...all the songs on my top Smashing Pumpkins songlist. as of very recently, "Easy to Be Around" by Diane Cluck. Anything by The Shins, "Blue Eyes" by Cary Brothers, anything by Frou Frou.

~thing to do: travel? write? explore? relax after kickboxing? watch the Simpsons or Jeeves & Wooster? I'm happy with pretty much anything.

~sports: I didn't think I liked sports. maybe I do. hockey's kinda fun, especially when you're inappropriately clad in a dress more suited for a horserace. the French aren't bad at soccer. watching divers could be worse. or are we talking about stuff I do? is kickboxing a sport? or sit-ups? I used to run a lot more. I once played softball and soccer and all, but they don't count. I give up.

~drinks: water with cucumber in it, or fruit juice, or sweet tea, or wine, or gin/tonic, or screwdriver, or martini, or fruit-flavored soda. I adore milk, but I'll only drink it certain places. never in a restaurant unless it's steamed. and I refuse to use the word "steamer;" it's silly and degrading.

~clothes: my new work clothes are very cute. my I Heart USF shirt. I dunno. I'm looking forward to buying African stuff. I like them all, more or less. the suit I made is adorable, pants at least, still haven’t finished the jacket, what with moving and all.

~movies: read my favorite-movie list, people; it's on the profile; it's just a click away. though of course I only listed the ones that I rated a four, along with Napoleon Dynamite, just because it's fabulous, though only 3.5. to get a better picture, you'd need my 3.5s, and maybe 3s.

~holiday: Christmas, because I get to give people gifts that they'll hopefully like. and I love the smell of fir trees, and orange with clove, and all.

~nerdy saying: I thought everything I said was nerdy. Dig? Gosh! A freakin' 12-gauge, what do you think? I caught you a delicious bass. Eight minutes of heaven! It's quantity not quality! You don't plant no tree in a parking lot!

HAVE YOU...

~ever cried over a boy: if you're reading this, I think you already know the answer.

~ever lied to someone: no. heh. yes, but I regret every single time. except right then.

~ever been in a fist fight: hmmm...I'm trying to think of something that was close...no, I guess not. pity.

~ever been arrested: no, but I've been chased!

NUMBER...

~of times I have been in love: undeterminable, what with degrees and all; I'll leave it at multiple.

~of times I have had my heart broken: really, truly broken? once, twice, let's call it three.

~of hearts I have broken: three that I'm sure about. karma.

~of girls/boys I have kissed: silliness. as if I would know.

~of drugs taken illegally: none, of course.

~of people I would classify as true, could trust with my life type, friends: I wish I knew.

~of people I consider my enemies: none.

~of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: hmmm...one, three, four, ooh, quite a few.

~of scars on my body: a lot, but only a couple of really noticeable ones.

~of things in my past that I regret: too many, or none.

FAVORITE...

~Disney movie: Beauty & Beast, Lady & Tramp, Aladdin? Dumbo? Oliver & Company?

~scent: freshness, or Arabic spices. the air after rain. oil paints. that certain shaving cream, don't know the name, from an apartment in Rome. the Avon shampoo. candle smoke.

~word: scuttling, belly, metempsycose, huzzah, smuckers raspberry preserves, avatar. I like words in general.

~nickname: Habibiti, or Catydid

~guy name: Aaron, Dylan, Eliot, Galen, Gibson, Hayden/Haydn, Kavenagh, McLane, Noe/Noé, Parker, Quentin, Sebastian, Sven, Taylor, Wallace, Wells (I tend to like weird names, yes, I know)

~girl name: Astoria, Cecily, Coe, Dade, Delphine, Eudora, Evangeline, Fiona, Gabrielle, Galen, Liane, Lorelai, Maeve, Margot, Morgaine, Morgana, Tertia, Vada

~eye color: I don't know. All eyes are lovely. I like interesting ones. Mine often have some yellow in there, which I'm happy about.

~flower: I love them all, and I love touching them. lilies are pretty, and orchids. roses, carnations. Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose.

~actor: Johnny Depp, all the way. but then, I love Steve Buscemi and William H. Macy and the guy from Chicago, the husband. what's his name? John C. Reilly, I think. Yes. I like actors with initials. John Cusack, Kevin Spacey (I have a picture of us!), etc.

~actress: Angelina Jolie. Winona Ryder has great eye emotion. Kate Beckinsale's cute. Chloe Sevigny's cute. Julianne Moore's cute. I still like NicK. All the French actresses are adorable.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE...

~pretty: for a girl.

~funny: sarcastic. if you are amused by sarcasm, then I'm your girl.

~hot: I'm usually cold.

~friendly: d'habitude, non.

~amusing: I can be.

~ugly: is anyone?

~loveable: by some.

~optimistic: have I met you?

~caring: yes, I can be, with some people.

~sweet: yes, same.

~dorky: yes, that should be obvious.

~spell your first name backwards: enirehtac, what fun. I quit.

~the story behind your user name: which one? cateici should be painfully obvious if you know basic French; frenchpea, well, French, pea, green, 23, pod, veggie, etc. Veggietales I was a big fan of (of Veggietales I was a big fan).

~are you straight? yes

~where do you live? in a tower. ivory, I think.

~4 words that sum you up: curious, witty, sarcastic as hell, and I just might be 9 years old and prone to mischievousness

DESCRIBE YOUR...

~wallet: right now, it's light tan, and small. it's from Target. who needs Coach or Chanel?

~hairbrush: many. my favorites are the pink one and the one wood one with the black metal bristles.

~toothbrush: one's purple; the pretty one that I bought for special occasions is teal and blue.

~jewelry worn daily: it changes a lot. well, my ring, and my USB Flashdrive. it's not always cute, but it looks better than when I had floppydisk earrings.

~blanket: I have a lot. because I'm often cold. and I like softness, and snuggling with Alligator in a blanket.

~coffee cup: well, my work one is black with some logo swan on it. and I have a work one with the Africa Center logo, where I keep pens. I have a lot at home, Berry alumni from the French Dept, attractive large one with French on it from my South Gwinnett High School French Dept, etc. pretty French ones.

~shoes: ha. there's no way I'm going to list all of my shoes. if I have to do it for the renter's insurance, which I'm really putting off doing (can you imagine me totalling all of my clothing? crazy.), then I may summarize. but right now, none. earlier today, Aerosoles Pretty Cat in black, high heels, round toe, small bow. tomorrow, VicSec boots, loved by all.

~handbag: same. but today's was a small Italian black leather bag.

~favorite shirt: Weezer, one of the French ones, the Arabic one, I can't possibly choose. I like the purple one with the black pants and jacket, like what I wore to New Years and then to work, because hey, if it's the first of the year, shimmer can't be all bad.

~CD in stereo right now: can you guess? Sahara Lounge; Rouge (the movie...by Krzysztof Kieslowski) is in my laptop DVD player.

~what you are wearing now: pajamas, comfy ones. earlier, black/blue skirt, black tights with houndstooth pattern in sheer, black shirt, black jacket. tomorrow, tan skirt, blue sweater, brown jacket, red tights with flowers, boots.

~makeup: now, or in general? I'm wearing mascara (because I'm obsessed with eyelashes) and lipstick, but you usually can't tell, because my lips are like my hair, and take color poorly. the color doesn't change really, plus my favorite colors are the color of my lips anyway. waste of time.

WHO or WHAT (was/is/are) -

~in my mouth: the mundane stuff that we need to get by, like teeth and a tongue and all. how banal.

~in my head: ideas, plans, memories. what's in your head?

~after this: sleep!

~talking to: no one, now.

~eating: I was eating lamb and squash and zucchini, earlier. now I have a martini, vanilla.

~fetishes: words. languages. cultures. I guess I have a couple.

~if you could get away with it and murder anyone, who and for what reason?: what? not happening. such horrendous questions.

~person you wish you could see right now: my family, or Angelina, or one of my old profs, I think. anyone could be fun. why am I the one who's answering all the questions, here?

~next to you: the new Africa Center newsletter draft, martini glass, remote (watching The Man Who Would Be King, recent rental), my favorite Christmas ornament. a British well bucket, a glass that had skim milk in it a few minutes ago, a broken vase, a couple of full vases, and a life-size sculpture of myself, if you will, made of cloth and duct tape. speaking of which, no one at Alexandria Wal-Marts knows what duct tape is—they told me to check the pet section—except for that one fabulous, wonderful girl. thank you.

~something you're looking forward to in this up coming month: January...I get a day off, right? seeing my friend no longer teaching high school, and thus happy. going downtown more. Merchant of Venice has Jeremy Irons; I love him. Life Aquatic made me sad; I heard White Noise is a documentary, based entirely on fact. woo...woo... I want another Napoleon, or Huckabees. Badly. Hurry, Jared Hess and David O. Russell! also Wes, though I'm worried, a bit, about the animation.

~something that you are deathly afraid of?: r-words. that's the only good thing about not being in Tampa. I've only seen one bug in my new home, and it was a daddy long-legs. those are just cute, with little bodies, and gangly yet graceful legs, and gentle paws. other than that, well, if you care, you've asked me, and I've answered. why post it?

~do you like candles: yes

~do you like hot wax: yes. nice smell, warm on the fingers, fun to play with on deck tables.

~do you like incense: usually not. impure smell.

~do you believe in love: yes

~do you believe in soul mates: I don't think so; I think it's societal silliness, but I do believe in potential percentages, and likelihoods. and there are obviously going to be more people under, say, your 90% potential than above it, so the "soulmate" pool is limited. but then, our personalities determine how low of a percentage we're willing to accept. I knew one girl, and she was not at all a doormat, just a really really sweet, patient girl, who could probably end up with anyone, and anyone would adore her, and she'd be patient enough to love him. she's the one who sang along with you, yes you, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (note to self: add to database)

~do you believe in love at first sight: no. I believe in attraction, but that's very much not the same thing, masquerading as a bride.

~do you believe in forgiveness: yes, and I wish there were much more of it.

~do you believe in God: yes, and by that I don't mean some spirit, and lighting candles and chanting about "she/he."

~what do you want done with your body when you die: I could be buried, or put in a little stone house in Pere Lachaise. or I still think it'd be sweet to mix your ashes with those of the person you love.

~who is your worst enemy: time.

~if you could have any animal for a pet: small, fluffy, feline.

~what is the latest you've ever stayed up: don't even bother asking. I'm sure I've knocked a few years off my life.

~ever been to Belgium: no. sob. (edit on 24 Mar 2005: I happened to be rereading my past ramblings, and yes! yes, I have now been to Belgium! and boy, is it a great country! I'd love to live there.)

~can you eat with chopsticks: yes, and I’ve taught a surprising number of people how to.

~what's your favorite coin?: dimes are nice. small, cute, silver, lightweight.

~what are 5 cities you wouldn't mind relocating to?: all right. I have more that that in the US alone; geez. Charlottesville, Tampa, Rome (eventually), NYC, or wherever I end up going to school. oh...Princeton, and the voice breaks. I like lots of cities. Atlanta wasn't bad at all, and I miss my family. worldwise, I'd move anywhere, literally. but there's always that special place in my heart for Paris, I love you, belle ville.

~what are some of your favorite pig out foods?: Rice Chex with blueberries on it, creme brulee. deep dish apple pie, the ice cream. odd how now that it's freely available, and I've had it again, some of the appeal is gone. that makes me want to cry. I miss the longing; it's always the best part, by far.

~what's something that you wish people would understand: When a woman becomes a scholar there is usually something wrong with her sexual organs. - Friedrich Nietzsche

~what's something you wish you could understand better: everything else

~anyone you miss that you haven't seen in a long time: if I haven't seen you in a long time, I probably miss you.

~something you want to make happen for tomorrow: hmmm, create something, anything, but drag myself out of the drudgery.

Who's your favorite president?

Ulysses S. Granted. No, in actuality, Millard Filmore, because his name always reminded me of mustard, dijon. I wish I had the painting and the drawing that I don't have. I hope that the reason Free Fallin began to be played so much on the radio was not because of Jerry Maguire, and an unhealthy Tom Cruise fixation. Perfectly fabulous song in its own right, it deserves better. A man on a unicycle, with wings, hoping to fly, is much less silly than two hundred people in aluminum foil, hoping that the edges hold together.

Geese: I'm hard at work, at work.

It was all set to be an entirely normal day, sit at work, type Nigerian things, things like that, but as I was running my timesheet over to b21, I heard a honking noise. Turning to look, I saw that the lawn in front of the War College (scan down; right behind the big building in front, in the "Home, Sweet Home" post) was strewn, littered, completely covered with a flock of geese, the sort of flock of geese that makes you want to bandy about terms like "herd of sheep" and "the entire worldwide population of Canadian Geese just landed on Fort McNair, in the middle of January." So of course this warranted a picture. Karl and I grabbed the digital camera and headed out for the field; you would not believe the size of goose defecation. Rich came for part of the way, and we realized too late that he should have been in the picture, smoking his pipe; if only his last day weren't tomorrow. I think I run cutely. It's hard to see, here, exactly how many geese there were, since they were lounging about in groupings, waddling, occasionally flapping and honking, but it was in the area of a few hundred. What wouldn't I give for a private jet, and an aerial shot of the geese. But then, no commercial flights over DC, and such a photo might be frowned upon by our friends over at the Pentagon, God love 'em. One of the, or multiple, photos will be posted later today, once I get home to Hello, and BloggerBot. (And so they were.)

Back in Tampa, apartment number one.

And the expression, I think, embodies my current state of mind.

2004 in a nutshell.

I got many haircuts in 2004. The entire year, and my level of dissatisfaction with it, can be judged by how many times my hair was altered. I went from longish to short (several times), to short but longer in front (for that artistic look we all know and love), to Amelie (slash Anthropologie, which sent out an email with this picture in it; no, not this one; the one right below it, with that stunning creature that I'd love to look like). So then here I am, newly a member of Mount Vernon, two weeks into this haircut, on 31 Dec 2004, wondering what the next year will hold in store for me. And my hair. Oh, the depth.

The inspiration for my current hair.

Transits, tears, and Ted Kennedy.

I have of course arrived in DC; been here about two months now. Not a bad town, not bad at all. The Smithsonian was surprisingly lovely, with a Transit of Venus section, and Julia Child's kitchen. And the Lincoln Memorial was impressive. I cried in the LoC, with the French books about the Middle East. Il faut touch them reverentially. Alexandria, too, is lovely. The best fireworks display I've ever seen, was this New Year's in Alexandria, and I'd never been so close to someone playing a cello before. Front row all the way, baby. If only I had no job, I could really appreciate this little slice of Americana.

I saw Ted Kennedy on the street, playing with his dog. He was using a tennis ball attached to a racket with string, right on the side of the road as we all walked by. And after some disbelieving debate ("From the back, he looks like Ted Kennedy." "Is that Ted Kennedy?" "Dear lord, that's Ted Kennedy!"), when he turned and his persona became evident, we shouted out, "We love you, Mr. Kennedy!" Ted, hearing this, turned and did a haughty sort of wave, acknowledging but finding himself superior to three twentysomethings walking to the metro, and to sushi. And that was that, until we ran across a Dane who wasn't sure what city the Liberty Bell is in. Then sushi, and Supersize Me. Speaking of which, where are my fries?

The potential falsification of dates in this blog, I find amusing. Nothing but trust, however, nothing but trust, as was inspired by the plane segment of the British military, though I'd already learned my lesson. In any case, this is true, this date. It's also true that I'm only just now watching Jerry Maguire for the first time, and while it was clearly overhyped, I am quite happy to hear Rickie Lee Jones on the soundtrack. 'Twas for her that I lost my car, the Lizardmobile, while picking up free tickets and then getting lost while trying to get to class. Poor Chrysler. Tampa was the nicest city, and the cruellest.

I'll be going to Nigeria soon, Abuja, and I think I'll stop in London for a few days, simply because it sounds like a nice thing to do. Nothing else really notable is happening. I work; I'm a worker; I work. A hummer, as it were, a drone. The dressform and website are coming along well. Weather in DC is unseasonably warm, now, and I'm loving it.

Where I'd rather be.

Stereoview picture of the Eiffel Tower

Home, sweet home.

This is where I work. No, not the building in front or to the side; the little building to the back left, right past the middle green area.

Me in Key West with Dominique and one of his Flying Cats.

Quel tired-looking and yet wiggly cat. I adore Dominique, who is of course French. Quel mature-looking and yet hyper man. Ah, the joys of a stage persona, and Mallory Square. I expected the fried conches, later, to be better than they were, probably because I was expecting fried oyster, not hushpuppy.

This was supposed to be my profile photo...if only I were computer-savvy.

USA Today on 3 Sept 04, and a new crossword to do.