Merging two households is a pain in the back. Very litterally. Sweetie and I are still working on getting all of our furninture either stored in the garage or integrated into the apartment. Today we finally finished getting the beds all situated. This is more complicated than it sounds.
You see for the last few months we've been sleeping on a pile of mattresses and box springs that reached just over waiste high and wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. This weekend we decided that we'd had enough and took one of the mattresses and box springs out to the garage. This is not as easy as you might think. You see we have spiral stairs to navigate, and heavy queen sized mattress don't like to bend that much. So we had to dimantal part of the stairs to make a way big enough for the bed. Then lower it carefully down to the ground and take it out the long road to the garage.
Once in the garage, we had to figure out how to get it up to the rafters. We bought a pully and some plyboard and rope and planned to hang it from the rafters, but that didn't fly. We couldn't even get it off the ground. Then one of our neighbors came by and offered to help. He insted that we coud get it up into the rafters with little problem, and proved it to us. He climed up there and we passed the mattress and boxspring up one at a time. So now they are up there, safely stored until we decide to move, and we have a comfortable, normal hight bed in the bed room.
Now we just need to find room for all the book cases.
It's the day after thanksgiving and I'm still suffering from a Tryptophan overdose. Yet here I am at work way too early in the morning even without the turkey trying to drag me back to bed.
It's not all bad, it will be a quiet day at work today which means I should be able to catch up completely and still get plenty of writing done. And it's not like I'd be joining the masses in the mall today anyway - I hate crowds.
Yesterday was a wonderful day, starting late then going to Mom's house. I nice semi-quiet dinner with family (my 2 and 3 year old nephew and niece can only be quiet for so long). Some nice catching up with family gossip and then off to a friends house for raucous laughter and games over and even bigger feast. If you are keeping count, that 2 turkey dinners in one day. By the end of the evening I was dreaming with my eyes open. I don't think that I'm done digesting the tryptophan yet. I feel like I could use another couple hours of sleep.
And I get to go to another feast tomorrow.
Like most students, I don't like tests. They are a nerve wracking hour or so of questions about stuff you read a month ago, and maybe talked about a bit 3 weeks ago. The pressure to study and know all sorts of little details to be regurgitated on demand makes my brain go numb.
At the same time though, I undestand why teachers insist on giving tests. They have to have some measure of whether anything they said over the last 3 months made it into your brain. Besides that, college administrators want to see numbers - because administrators everywhere think that numbers are the only way to demonstrate anything (despite the fact that most numbers don't really mean anything anyway). So I take the tests and try to keep my grumbling to a minimum.
And then there are tests like the one I took last night. A week ago, one of the teachers of the course (there are two - team teaching can be great, or it can be lousy, in this case it's lousy), told us what we needed to study for the test. He went over all the material we covered all sememster and told us what parts we would need to know in detail and which we'd just need to understand. He also told us specifically that certain things would not be covered.
So guess what was on the test last night... details about the stuff he'd said we'd only need to understand and even some of the stuff he'd said specifically would not be there. There was also stuff that he hadn't said anything about. I was lucky, I never trust teachers who say "this is all that will be on the test" because it's too easy for them to forget something, so I studied the stuff that he hadn't gone over. But I was still floored by the stuff that wasn't supposed to be there.
So there I sat, struggling through 19 short answer and essay questions (at least half included the phrase "give an example"), and fuming that I hadn't gone ahead and studied the details on everything. When other students more bold than I complained about the things that weren't supposed to be there, the other teacher's only response was "well I wasn't there." Not good enough! If you are team teaching you have to communicate with your partner well enough to know what we were told about the test and not go against that.
Anyway, after the test, we gathered in the hallway outside the room and bitched to each other. We came to the collective conclusion that we'd be shooting ourselves in the foot if we make our complaints known before the tests are graded and handed back (since obviously these teachers can't be trusted). But we did decided that once the tests are handed back, and we have proof of our fears, we'll go en masse to the department head and lodge our complaints.
All in all it's a frustrating near end to a frustrating class. The teachers haven't been particularily good at teaching. Most of us can't tell you what the point of the class was, or even what we were supposed to learn in there. And it's only the almost end, because we still have our big group project presentations over the next 2 weeks.
I hope that we will scream loud enough so that others won't have to go through this.
This past weekend Sweetie and I planned a trip north to visit my grandparents. Then we heard about the storm that was coming, but careful checks of several weather reports indicated that the area we were going to was outside the storm area and besides, the snow wouldn't start until Sunday morning.
I guess we listed to the wrong weather people. The snow start during dinner on Saturday, and by the time we noticed the weather was too harsh to travel in. We were stuck. Normally not a bad thing really - I love my grandparents and their house is big enough to get away from them anyway when they get to be too much. The only problem, I was supposed to be to work on Monday morning at 7:00 am. Then of course there was the test on Tuesday that I needed to study for (more about that in a rant later).
On top of it all, Grandpa kept going on about how the plows were always slow to plow his road and that it was going to be Tuesday morning at the earliest that we'd get out of there. Oh yea - that meant 2 unexpected missed days of work and school, and I'd be getting back to the city just in time for thanksgiving. So I made a series of phone calls to alert people who were expecting me that I was trapped (yea for good friends and helpful neighbors - I'm deaply in debt to them now). I made hasty arrangements for things that needed to be taken care of and settled in for an unexpected vacation.
Well Grandpa was wrong, we were plowed out by 10:00 Monday morning. The roads were still icy and travel was slow, but we got home Monday in mid-afternoon. So I was able to make it to class on Tuesday, and then got to explain to my teachers why a friend had e-mailed them to say that I wouldn't be there. I got to take that test (blech) and just may be able to catch up on my work in time for the holiday.
We're going to grandmother's house (with a basket of goodies). Well maybe not with a basket of goodies, but it always sounds like the begining of a fairy tale when I plan to go to grandma's. In some ways, it just might be the begining of a fairy tale. Because whenever I plan a trip like this all I can think about are the rosy memories of going up there when I was a kid. I remember baking in grandma's oversized kitchen, playing hide and seek in the numerous closets, digging through her sewing cabinet (yes cabinet, not box, the thing was taller than I was when I was 8, has folding doors and at least a dozen drawers for thread and ribbon and other little things and side shelves for folded fabrics). I remember the toy closet, stacked from top to bottom with old toys, some of which are probably antiques, and old decks of cards and things like that.
But all that was a long time ago. While the house hasn't changed, I have and so has Grandma. We probably won't make cookies while we are there this time, and the games we'll play will have more complicated rules than dolls or legos. I'll actually have to think - she's addicted to Scrabble. And on top of all that, I'll be introducing my grandparents to Sweetie.
That is just a little bit nerve wracking. I've never really discussed it with them, but I know that my grandparents have an idea of who I'm supposed to hook up with and how my life is supposed to go. So far, my life hasn't followed the path they envisioned. And Sweetie doesn't look like the man they expected to see meeting me at the alter. Then of course there's the whole issue of the alter... I've told them I'm pagan, but I don't think that's sunk in yet. Now I'm going to have to explain about handfastings and all that.
I know that whatever I do, they will love me, but there's some part of me that doesn't want to disapoint them. It's not going to stop me from doing what I want with my life (it's my life after all) but it is going to make me feel a little guilty.
So anyway - we're off this weekend to grandma's house, which really is over the river and through the woods from here. Maybe I will bring a basket of goodies, but I'll beware of the wolf.
I spent this last weekend near st. Louis at a "Silent Weekend" conference. Basically the idea was to spend the entire weekend without using our voices as we learned more about ASL and Deaf Culture. And to make sure that we wouldn't cheat - they had this garrish bib that you had to wear if you were caught talking. That bib got passed around and around and around rather quickly, but I'm happy to say that I never once had to wear it.
Other than that, we did all sorts of things, relay races, guess who games, scavanger hunt, skits, and through it all we laughed. We laughed and laughed and laughed. I don't think that I've ever laughed that much in one weekend. And with no other noises to drown out the laughter, I really noticed how much we laughed. We'd sit in our cabins and sign jokes back and forth - with all the attendant laughter that jokes bring. We'd chat over our meals (which meant that we all ate slow - it's hard to eat when your hands are being used for conversation). We signed while we walked from place to place, and during the workshops and social hours and over crafts.
I think that I learned a lot. I hope that it shows in class. If nothing else, I think that my fluency has improved a little. But there was one woman there who learned more than anyone else. At the begining of the weekend she didn't even know the sign alphabet. But at the end of the weekend she could chat with the Deaf folks who were there. I was truly impressed.
It was a fun weekend.
Yesterday was moving day. My brother came over with a pick up truck and my niece and nephew and helped Sweetie move in. Not all the way, just the big stuff. A lot of the little stuff has already been moved, and the rest we still have a couple of weeks to get over. But now, the furniture is all here - and my appartment is now very cozy.
I got to "take the day off" and watch my niece and nephew while Brother and Sweetie moved large things. I'm tired, but at least now I know that I still don't want kids. Don't get me wrong, I love the little ones, and they were well behaved. They were just typical kids - into everything and always running. Anything that wasn't specifically banned was fair game. I had to lock the cat in the closet for his own protection - same for the dog in the kennel.
On the bright side, they do provide some wonderful stories. For example I asked them what they wanted for lunch. Niece said "hot dogs" and Nephew said "mac and cheese"(at least that's the translation I came up with). So I made Mac and cheese with hotdogs and they clapped their hands and jumped up and down when I served it, but they each only ate half of it. Niece ate the mac and cheese and Nephew ate the hotdogs (then fed Nieces hotdog to the dog - for which the dog was very grateful). I had to laugh.
Warning Rant ahead:
As a student, I understand that if Teachers tells you to do a paper in a certain way, that's the way you should do it. And if Teacher tells you that they want certain information in said paper - put that information in. If you don't you are likely to loose points.
Now having said that, I don't believe that Teacher gets off the hook. Teacher must tell you in clear language that you understand what it is that they are looking for. They must tell you in clear language that you understand what they will be grading on. And most importantly, Teacher needs to be sure that they give you all the information you need in an accessible format.
So guess what's frustrating me?
Twice now in one class we have gotten papers back with a note to the whole class (delivered in class) that we've all done something wrong. Now this should be a big clue to our teacher that we aren't getting it. If none of us managed to give you what you wanted, then you didn't tell us clearly in language we can understand. More frustrating than that, this isn't the only class that this has happened in (but in the other one Teacher re-explained and then gave everyone a chance to re-write the paper without penalty).
Now - I have one more paper in that class, and clearly I still don't understand what Teacher wants in these papers. So now what am I supposed to do? We've baraged Teacher with questions about it, but the explanations didn't make that much sense. And off we go, once again blindly searching for what Teacher wants - I hate this game.
Last Friday, Sweetie and I went to a pagan celebration of the Feast of the Dead. It was a community building event, which was supposed to be a conglomeration of similar celebrations from around the world. We had the food - traditional foods from all over the world. We had the decorations too. As for the rest, well, it was just a big party.
It was actually a lot of fun, and a good way to spend friday evening. On top of that, we got a chance to sit down and really get to know some people that we've "known" for more than a year, but never really knew. Among the many revelations that happened in that conversation: we "geek" about many of the same things, we are creative in some similar ways (writing) and some not so similar ways (stained glass, sculpture, chainmail), we go to the same conventions (but have somehow managed to miss each other).
I came away from a fairly late evening with the sense that I now have more friends than I had before - that should keep me warm all winter.
Last night my sweetie and I took the dog for a walk. We went our usual route, up the street, around the hotel and back. Uno stopped at all his usual posts to check his wee-mail, and left a few messages of his own. Sweetie and I talked about the frustrations of school and work and that kind of stuff.
By the halfway point of the walk though, we'd noticed that we weren't alone. Old Man Winter was walking beside us, whispering in our ears. We were shivering in our heavy coats and even Uno was running faster than usual. Our conversation turned to wistful thoughts of hot coco and sitting by a fire snuggled up in a blanket.
When we got home, we were in doubt about whether our ears and noses were still attatched. Our fingers weren't working the way we were used to making it hard to open the door and get into the nice warm appartment. We eventually did succede, and promptly put milk on to heat for the coco. If nothing else, I will thank the cold for prompting someone to invent a drink as nummy as Hot Coco.
I've stayed home from work sick for the last two days. I can't seem to get enough sleep - I wake up with the alarm, but within an hour I feel like it's been a week since I woke up. I can't go to work like that - I'd be unsafe to drive on the way home. So I've called in with vague descriptions of "not feeling well."
Unfortunately, I can't do the same for school. If I stay home, I loose attendance points. It sucks, but that's the way it is. So I'm not really sure if I've gotten anything out of those classes. I think we talked about classifiers in ASL, and codes of ethics in Professional Ethics, but thats about all that I remember.
I hate being sick. So off to bed I go, maybe I'll dream about being fully rested and energetic.
Yesterday was the first snow of the season (that I officially recognize - there were some hints that snow might have happened before halloween, but I closed my eyes and didn't believe them). It was actually very nice. I had made it safely to work before it started and it stopped long before I left. So I got to stay nice and warm and watch the snow drift passed the window.
By the time I did leave work yesterday, most of the silly people who forgot how to drive in snow over the summer had either made it home or had already crashed, so the roads were fairly open and clear if a little wet. That didn't bother me at all though, my Sweetie was driving. And this morning there is just enough snow left on the grass and trees to make the light coming in my window that nice soft that always reminds me of the family holidays. I know this snow will melt before thanksgiving, but I hope that more snow will be here - A good snow ball fight just before the turkey would be great.
I spent most of yesterday typing. This is not generally a problem, I'm a writer after all and type most of my drafts. I generally enjoy writing, but that's not what I was doing yesterday - I was typing.
I was typing one paper after another for school. Because you see college professors don't seem to understand that their students might have other classes to attend. Nor do they comprehend the fact that since school is so expensive, students frequently have jobs - many of us have full time jobs. And it is not even a part of their world that students might want to have a social life, or do such mondane tasks as cooking, cleaning or sleeping. All they seem to know is that you are in class for 2 or 4 hours a week and that there are 168 hours in a week. That means (according to professors) that students have between 164 and 166 hours per week to do homework.
Now, I'm taking 3 classes. One meets 4 hours each week and the other 2 meet 2 hours each so let's do the math. The teacher for the 4 hour class thinks that I have 164 hours to do homework, and each of the other teachers think that I have 166 hours to do homework (each) that adds up to 496 hours of homework each week.
Fortunately, my teachers are smart enough to be aware, that anything they assign to be turned in, they are going to have to read, so none of the actually use up all the time they think I have for doing homework. As it is, I generally manage to work faster than they expect which leaves me with a luxurious 5 hours of sleep per night.
We are just over halfway through the semester - I'm looking ahead to the holidays, and all the business that brings, and wondering how I'm going to make it through. I'm guessing that just about every other student out there is doing the same thing.
What really amazes me though is that I've been through this before - many many many times. And yet I still can't remember how I manage to get through the coming season with my sanity in tact.