"the road to the post office seemed long..."

What happened to writing pen and ink letters?



I mean, I understand that methods like email, gmail chatting, and text messaging are so much faster; I understand why those forms of communication might be beneficial, don't get me wrong.



But there are things I miss in them. The handwriting, the crossed out mistakes, the misspellings, the different kinds of paper, the different kinds of ink, the seal I have to break open to read it, or the seal I have to secure before I send it, the address--both addresses, actually--that somehow get the thing where it is supposed to go, the time I have to wait before I can expect another, the black smeary stuff the post office marks it with, and the stamp.



My sister used to write letters diagonally on the page. My brother skipped every other line. My dad did the same only in his wonderful left-handed, uppercase scrawl.



And my mom wrote perfectly, usually without the help of prefabricated lines. Each row of writing precisely parallel to the next and to the top and bottom of the page. Her straightforward cursive was easy and calming to read. And her closing often contained some form or other of a practical and practiced heart... or many hearts as the moment might have moved her.



Handwritten letters are great in so many ways.
So, where did they go?

thus far

My Three Favorite Wisconsin Things: Thus Far

sea star fossil in the capital steps

the Cripple Creek Cloggers; sharing their talents since 1982

the views

to be continued...

the tornado warning sounds everyday at noon

things I was told and should have believed but didn't:



1. "It's much to hot to go jogging in Arizona in July... at any time of day."


2. "Wisconsin is humid."


The fact is, both are true.

The one about Arizona I learned the hard way.

Wisconsin taught me by making the linoleum floors feign mild flooding:
"What is this phenomenon? Is something leaking?"
"No, all the floors are like that."


Does anyone else make this mistake or am I just prone to skepticism?

more on the Louisiana Purchase

This post is for my friend Cate.

She expressed some skepticism, and understandably so, as to the existence of Mount Rushmore.

Being that I've always wanted to see Borglum's giant sculpture carved in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I took it upon myself to attempt to set her doubts at ease.

I traveled to Keystone, South Dakota to produce a photograph that would prove the existence of such a monument. This I knew would solve the question (if questions can indeed be "solved").

The method I have chosen to create such evidence is to place my hand in a photograph with Mount Rushmore... very difficult to fake. Thank you, yes, I pride myself on this flawless logic as well.

And there it is: my hand...

and Mount Rushmore.

Here are some other things that one might doubt the existence of, but in my journey I found them to be there:

a new place requires new shoes

Quick!

I need your opinions...

Give me three things you like about Wisconsin.

reading rainbow (perhaps with pun intended)

This morning, I was assigned to be the caboose. Really, I just wanted to blend in and enjoy the view, but I had to open my big mouth and mention to the ranger that I'd been on the Fiery Furnace guided hike before. I couldn't really help it though! It was like being in grade school again. "Has anyone been on this hike before?" And up shoots my hand. Something inside me wishes I hadn't been so conditioned in my youth.


There was an unforeseen benefit to being the caboose, however. One of the best parts about going on the Fiery Furnace guided hike is watching everyone else go on the Fiery Furnace guided hike. As the caboose, and pre-caboose (which I deemed my husband since he stuck with me during my brief caboosing career) we were able to see what other eager hikers did not. Our fellow hikers were cordial, but occasionally had trouble keeping their minor anxieties inside. An example:

"Just jump over here, honey, and I'll catch you and help you over." [Insert shoe-traction-slipping noises]
"Do you have sure footing?"
"Yes." [More slipping noises]
"Ok, now I'm just scared."
"HONEY, just jump!"
"I can't!"

It was fantastic to observe the struggle and have an extra few minutes to explore the Furnace ourselves... that is, while we waited for people to, you know, jump.


And I must mention Panati's Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things. This was my

graduation gift from my oldest sister. We read this book one night at the campsite while waiting for dinner to warm up and... well... couldn't stop reading. Seriously. We read before going to sleep. We read on our way to our next hike. We read while in the tent while it rained. And when we woke up and traveled to our final hike, we read some more. There was a point in one day when I said, "Well, shall we start another hike?" and the conversation continued, "Sure... "
"I sense hesitation... and I'm really tired"
"Yeah, I'm tired too."
"Actually, I just want to read about more about the origins of ordinary things."
"Me too!"

So we did.
And, I have to say, without regret.

Origins we've enjoyed so far:
covering a yawn
flipping of a coin
the evil eye
knocking on wood

...and more!

But don't take my word for it -- [duh-nunt-nunt]

spill the purse (bag)

A while ago I was tagged to spill the purse. So, I took the pictures and promptly discovered that the camera cord had slithered away into the world where all lost things go. We mourned it's loss.

But then! That little black camera cord decided to venture back into our world. It must have really missed us. And so, a belated spill the purse.

To be honest, I don't really like the word purse. It's like how my sisters hate the word moist or pamphlet. So, when people talk about purses, I generally tend to change the word to bag in my mind. So, here is my bag.

I got it in Arizona over Christmas.

It came with a white bow on one of the straps.

I took that off.

It's a pretty common bag seeing as I got it at Target [plug for Target] but I really liked the little round trees and their skinny white trunks. And besides, I like trees.

And here are the contents of my bag.

Well, that is: here are the contents of my bag last March.

They include the journal I got for Christmas from my older brother, a few paycheck envelopes, (They told me I'd have direct deposit, however, for the several months that I worked there, that magical deposit thing never happened) A Tale of Two Cities which I have long since finished and loved, a small notebook with the grocery list, my hand-me-down Eagle Creek wallet from my sister who has one that looks pretty similar, my check book, my homemade day planner, my glasses, some C.O. Bigelow Apothecaries Cinnamint Mentha lip shine which was given to me as a gift and that I really like, the Shuffle (we caved and are now ipod people) we purchased for ourselves for exercising but which I used to keep focused at work, and a penny that I probably picked up for good luck; it's a shiny one.

Whew! That is quite a bit of stuff!

So there we have it...

My bag in nutblog.

vocab vagabond

I misused the word lucrative the other day.

Boy, did I feel sheepish.

Apparently it doesn't mean "prestigious".

You know, deep down, I knew that... right?

So... I won't be defining any words for you this post.

I don't think I've earned it.

So maybe YOU could define some words for me, eh?

Any cool words you want to share?

Who knows... you may just save me from another embarrassing vocab blunder.

Please do.

Apparently, I need the help.

misfits

To be honest, it took me a little too long to realize our apartment wasn't livable anymore.

And that was even after the sewage pipes backed up and flooded the kitchen, bathroom, and the small extra room in under 10 minutes.

Come to find out, the reason our bathroom had been periodically flooding (clean water those times... don't worry), and water kept trickling down from the apartment above us was tree roots.

Apparently these tree roots were old "friends" to our landlords who were twice informed about the flooding bathroom and of our suspicions that something was greatly amiss.

Their teenage sons did a tolerable job of removing the carpet and vacuuming up the sewage water with an old Shopvac, but sadly lacked the judgement to refrain from placing soggy boxes and contaminated objects on our previously (and quite luckily) unscathed bed saying they needed to, "get them out of the way".

In the end, it was kind family members, whether it be a kind word over the phone, or giving us a place to stay for month before we make the move we were actually planning on making, that made it possible for me to fully comprehend the sanitation craziness of it all without completely losing my cool...

heck...

I might still be living there if it weren't for you all!

So, here's to first apartments and impositions upon the ones you love!

And to the festering sewage (that I'm sure the appropriate disaster clean-up crew will never see) I can only emphatically say, "See you, suckers!"

mael·strom

-noun

1. a large, powerful, or violent whirlpool.

2. a restless, disordered, or tumultuous state of affairs: the maelstrom of early morning traffic.

to the tune of glass figurine

I used the word tomfoolery today.

I was granted a speeding ticket on my way to work.

It was given in the usual manner. Did I know the speed limit? I did indeed know that the speed limit changes as one turns onto this street. Did I know that it doesn't change until after the overpass? I did not. Yes, indeed, the speed limit remains at 35 until after the overpass and the picks up to 50 thereafter. Is that so? It is. This pleasant exchange of getting-to-know-you questions ended with me handing over my license, registration, and proof of insurance.

This is how I would have liked to end the conversation:

"Well, thanks for clearing up my misunderstanding of the speed limit in those few yards of space," roll up my window and drive away...

You'll be happy to know that I didn't respond in this manner and that I was offered Traffic School (indicated by the "TS" the officer wrote on my citation, he told me).

I'm obviously thankful, however, I've been issued so many speeding citations (not that I'm proud of it by any means) that I'm pretty sure they're soon going to be asking ME to conduct traffic school. And I feel like the police officers and I have a bond. You know,

"hey, you're speeding again."
"bah! you're right! silly me."
"you know, you're not supposed to."
"yeah, yeah, I know."
"well, I'll go get your traffic school invitation for you."
"thanks."
"you know the drill right?"
"yeah, I know the drill."
"ok, drive safely."
"you betcha."

You can bet your boots I won't be speeding anytime soon. But the officers know I'm out there, and I'm sure we'll meet again during a period of speeding weakness. Let's just hope the intervals in between our get-togethers get exponentially larger, eh?


tom·fool·er·y
noun
1. foolish or silly behavior; tomfoolishness.
2. a silly act, matter, or thing.

tomfool
"buffoon, clown," 1650, from M.E. Thom Foole, personification of a mentally deficient man (1338), Tomfoolery is recorded from 1812.

two weeks to make a habit, eh?

I'm hungry.

I mean, really hungry. And it seems like all I can think about is a hamburger and fries!

Blast!

I mean, after three years of attempting to train myself to steer my hunger toward healthy things, my thoughts are still going to fries?!? (hamburgers can be healthy, so I'm not too worried there, I mean pickles... right?)

So here's what I'm proposing. Can you send me some good ideas of what to think about when I get really hungry like this? I mean, to take the place of greasy fries.

Thanks. You're a gem.

proclivity:
noun
natural or habitual inclination or tendency; propensity; predisposition: a proclivity to meticulousness

sundowner at shell house

There has only been one other time when I read an entire book in one day.

That was Tess of the D'Urbervilles, and boy did I have a knot in my stomach after that one. Thomas Hardy can sure make a bad situation MUCH worse. I mean, time sensitive notes going under door mats! He obviously didn't think of me, a procrastinator in my senior year of high school, starting his novel at 8pm and needing to finish it by 4th period the next day. Had he indeed thought of me, that book may well have been several hundred pages shorter.

But that was then.

Just yesterday I took a break from reading A Tale of Two Cities (I'm not too worried. That book seems to lend itself well to small breaks) to read Roald Dahl's Going Solo.

It's the sequel to his first installment of autobiographical stories, Boy, which I read on a on a Thanksgiving extravaganza in 2004, and it is wonderful. So I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Going Solo sitting untouched on the school shelves where I work. I couldn't resist.

I read the first few pages during silent reading time at school and, well... couldn't keep silent. I was laughing, and pretty hard too. The students were nice to ignore me for the first few minutes... but I was distracting them quite a bit. They let me retell the story I was reading and laughed with me.

I then took it home with me and finished it later that evening. And guess what: no knot in the stomach. I loved it.

So, I'm sharing this with you... go out and get both Boy and Going Solo (don't worry, you can take a break from [insert book you're reading here]) and give them both a read. You'll be glad you did. And then you'll wish you could go to a sundowner in the African evenings and eat brown rice and bananas... seriously, I'm going to try this.

and a new word for me from this book:

benighted
adj.
1. overtaken by darkness or night
2. being in a state of moral or intellectual darkness; unenlightened

i would just like to thank...

... the brookses for good music.

Sometimes a good song is all it takes to make a bad day good, or a good day better, or a grand day best.

Recently it has been:

Mushaboom
by Feist

and

Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity
by Gustov Holst

What about you? Any good tunes to send my way?



serialsim
noun

20th century music that uses a definite order of notes as a thematic basis for a musical composition.

why yellow?

Probably because it's been snowing for three days now.

Don't get me wrong. I'm really glad it's been snowing so much. At least the drought will be thankful. But, I find that I haven't seen blue sky, not to mention the sun, in far too long.

And yesterday my hair froze.

And that darn "check engine soon" light came on... again... after [insert large amount of dollars here] in repairs, and having it turned off again, a day later... etc. etc.

And I've had way too many near misses on the snowy roads.

See!

Do you see what the drear (not a noun) has done?!

And therefore, yellow. Coincidentally, my favorite color.

mi·lieu (ml-y, ml-y)

n.

pl. mi·lieus or mi·lieux (-ly)

1. The totality of one's surroundings; an environment.
2. The social setting of a mental patient.

"well, why don't we look it up?"

I love my dad.

I mean, not just because he is my dad. But I am really glad he is my dad, because if he wasn't, I'd probably wish he was.

One of the reasons I would wish that my dad was my dad if he wasn't indeed my dad would be because of a conversation we had a few weeks ago:

dad: "Hey jo, I know how you like words; do you know the word, malapropism?"

geri: "Oh no. Here we go. He's been talking about this for days."

jo: "Hmmm... how do you spell it?"

dad: " m-a-l-e-p-r-o-p-i-s-m, I think... but I'm not sure." (I'm pretty sure I inherited my poor spelling abilities from my father. I've always marveled, along with my little brother, how someone as naturally and easily intelligent as my dad could be so terrible at spelling. Maybe I didn't inherit it from him... but it's a good excuse anyway.)

jo: "Hmmm, I've never heard of it or read it. What does it mean?"

dad: "Well... (I could see the excited grin my dad was trying to conceal as he began telling me the story behind this word. My dad has an extraordinary memory that you can tell is used way more often than he lets on. Though he has never told me before, I'm pretty sure my dad loves to share these little glimpses inside his memory and leave us in awe of what is found there.) ... it is when someone uses the wrong word, a word that sounds similar to the right one, in a phrase or saying. Your aunt used it in her write-up about your grandma, my mom, only she called it a spoonerism which I think isn't it. I think the word is malapropism. It comes from a play by, oh... um... Sheridian where the character, Mrs. Malaprop makes a lot of this particular kind of mistake."

jo: (by this time, I was flattered that my dad ever thought I'd know that word...) "What is a spoonerism?"

dad: (he looks at me for a split second with a look of, "you don't know, eh?" then continues) I'm pretty sure a spoonerism is when you mix up the first letter of two words... oh, what was the example the dictionary gave...? And I couldn't find malaprop in the dictionary, but I think I'm spelling it wrong." (He heads for his trusty dictionary that he's had since way before any of us kids were born. Ever since I can remember my dad has made me look up words in this same dictionary. I'd have a question about a word and he'd say, "Well, why don't we look it up?" which meant, "Go get the dictionary and look it up for yourself. I'll help you once you have it." My sister had it rebound for Christmas one year I remember. It's still one of my favorite things about my dad. I don't think it's moved from it's spot on the top shelf of the bookshelf for years. We've got to know where it is at a moments notice, you know.)

chad: "Why don't we use my computer to look it up?" (Said in his always cheerful way. Anything is possible with chad I've noticed. My little brother and I have talked about that too. I like his way.)

geri: "We need to get to the bottom of this!" (She says with her delightful sarcasm)

dad: "Oh, you can do that? Yeah, let's do that." (He looks up 'spoonerism' for me in the good ol' paper and ink dictionary and shares the example they give so that I understand. I'm loving every minute of this.)

jo: "I've never heard of either of these words, but you can be sure I'm going to try to use them." (I say with a laugh, knowing that it isn't every day you come upon a chance to use the word 'spoonerism').

dad: (dismissing my harmless gibe) "Yeah, they're great words."

With chad's help we discovered that dad was indeed spelling the word wrong and that, owing to the definitions, my aunt probably should have used the word 'malapropism' instead. This conversation lead to absorbing stories about a grandmother who died when I was only 1 year old and who I never knew. I loved it.

And I love my dad.

I bet you wish he was your dad.

malaprop |ˈmaləˌpräp| (also malapropism)
noun
the mistaken use of a word in place of a similar-sounding one, often with unintentionally amusing effect, as in, for example, “dance a flamingo ” (instead of flamenco).

ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: from the name of the character Mrs. Malaprop in Sheridan's play The Rivals (1775) + -ism .

spoonerism |ˈspoōnəˌrizəm|
noun
a verbal error in which a speaker accidentally transposes the initial sounds or letters of two or more words, often to humorous effect, as in the sentence you have hissed the mystery lectures, accidentally spoken instead of the intended sentence you have missed the history lectures.

ORIGIN early 20th cent.: named after the Rev. W. A. Spooner (1844–1930), an English scholar who reputedly made such errors in speaking.

This one is for you, kel >> "Lorraine, my density has brought me to you."; "Yes! I'm George! I'm your density!" —George McFly, Back to the Future

but I can't wait until I'm eight

eight

-noun
1. a cardinal number, seven plus one.

8 things I am passionate about:

1. my husband
2. my fam
3. biology
4. definitions of words/grammar (though not as good as I'd like to be)
5. conversations!
6. writing in a journal (for some odd reason)
7. insects
8. necklaces (though I rarely sport them)

8 things I want to do before I die:

1. dive in a shark cage
2. learn how to bake all kinds o' bread
3. do a field study on a certain insect
4. learn how to oil paint... for real, not just guessing
5. learn how to talk without pausing, saying, "um" or "uh" or searching for the right word
6. raise a family
7. learn to play the violin well
8. write a book (me too, ash!)

8 books I have read recently:

1. My Antonia - Willa Cather
2. National Geographic- January 2008 (not a book... shoot)
3. The Idiot - Dostoevsky
4. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows- J.K. Rowling
5. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
6. The Avacado of Death - Daniel Pinkwater
7. Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen
8. Scrambled Eggs Super - Dr. Seuss

8 things I often say:

1. truth be told
2. rock that candy shop
3. you know what I'm saying? (a bad habit... I'm trying to quit)
4. let's look it up!
5. are you sure?
6. indeed
7. I can't decide...
8. hey love

8 things that attract me to friends:

1. sincerity
2. positive attitude
3. kindness
4. likes to talk
5. sense of humor
6. doesn't mind random inadvertent puns...
7. likes to laugh
8. don't take themselves too seriously

8 songs and albums I would listen to over and over (this is a hard one for me... I love the "repeat" function on the music player):

1. Anything by George Gershwin
2. Claire de lune - Debussy
3. Lull and Weather Systems - Andrew Bird
4. Always Asking Questions - Howard Jones
5. Neighborhood #2 - Arcade Fire
6. New Day - The King's Singers
7. Chan Chan - Buena Vista Social Club
8. Eleanor Rigby - The Beatles

8 things I learned this year:

1. being married is grand
2. I love red-orange wild flowers
3. car airbags can cause the windows to come crashing down (see! those inadvertent puns!)
4. teaching is as difficult as they say it is
5. airguns are quite fascinating (though I neither have or want one)
6. good friends are a true blessing
7. working on not being anxious is worth it (even if it seems futile)
8. the future, though unknown, is always better than you think it will be

8 random things about me:

1. of all God's creations, earthworms are my least favorite
2. I am fascinated by left-handedness
3. I secretly like a Nelly Furtado song
4. I was in a small film festival winner film
5. I was in a commercial when I was 5
6. thinking I was some sort of stuntman, I broke my collar bone at age 1 1/2
7. if I take notes in a certain pen color one day I must use a different color the next day
8. I'm not a big fan of ice cream

8 people I tag:

Taggity-tag tag!

ok... so I don't have have the courage to tag anyone... but did my strange exclamation distract you from that fact?

not scottsdale

I used to think Raspberry-Peach Snapple was the ambrosia of all beverages. It's true.

People used to come into the Great Harvest where I worked and ponder the beverific choices (of which there were many) and believing that it was my job to spread the joyful news, I'd declare, "You should try the Raspberry-Peach Snapple; it's the ambrosia of all beverages."...

Most of the time those customers didn't hear me. Or maybe they ignored me because declaring that something is the "ambrosia" of anything is a bit, well... presumptuous now that I think of it.

At any rate, it is the ambrosia of all beverages... or I thought it was until my first Christmas away from home. This Christmas.

And now, I have a new ambrosia-of-beverages. And it is ambrosia. I mean, look at me! I'm even risking sounding presumptuous!

And here is my declaration:

Freshly-squeezed orange juice made from freshly-picked oranges. And not just any oranges... oranges picked from the orange tree growing in the backyard.


A moment of reverence, please.


I'm not sure I need say more.



p.s. raspberry-peach snapple is still held high in my esteem... If you happen to find one, let me know, for they are few and far between.

ambrosia |amˈbrō zh (ē)ə|

noun Greek & Roman Mythology

the food of the gods.

• something very pleasing to taste or smell : the tea was ambrosia after the slop I'd been drinking.
• a fungal product used as food by ambrosia beetles.
• another term for beebread .
• a dessert made with oranges and shredded coconut.

ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: via Latin from Greek, ‘elixir of life,’
from ambrotos ‘immortal.’

and incidentally...

beebread |ˈbēˌbred| (also bee bread)
noun
honey or pollen used as food by bees.

And A Merry Christmas To You...

... From Snowman Teddy Roosevelt.

stonefly nymphs have two cerci

I am still a student teacher, but I haven't been teaching for the last week and a half. Today I made paper ornaments for our first Christmas tree, and filled up a notebook page with geometric shapes.

Yesterday I asked my mentor teacher and received permission to print the words "Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species" on paper in 500 point font down to 150 point font and then pasted them onto poster board. After that I had them laminated... and then, just because I had time I outlined the words with Crayola marker. They're really cool markers, by the way, sporting colors like "iguana green" and "tiger orange". Then I put them up in the front of the class thinking I was contributing to the lesson and providing my mentor teacher with a service only to overhear another science teacher saying to my mentor teacher, "Hey, cool kingdom-phylum-class-order-family-genus-species... don't you already have a set of those?"

For five days before that, I had been grading assignments, putting them in alphabetical order (because... well, for no other reason than because I like them that way), and updating both the online grade book, and my own personal grade book just in case the computer grades get erased (which they did a week before that, and I was very grateful for my ol' paper and pencil method). I even tried to pass those assignments back to the students for them to rework for 100% credit. I found most of them in the recycling bin. (At least they care about Mother Earth, if not about their grades.)

From what I've heard about student teaching, this isn't what I'm supposed to be doing. Luckily, I have no other reference points so I can't really be frustrated and am therefore not. Ok, maybe slightly.

en-nui
noun
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: the lecture produced and unbearable ennui.

measuring cups

I teach seventh grade life science at a local public school.

Yesterday I attempted to demonstrate osmosis to the class by looking at a thin piece of red cabbage under a microscope (projecting to the class through video to the television) and letting salt water run through it using capillary action between the slide and cover slip (it's actually pretty cool and worth the time if you've got a spare microscope, slides, and cover slips at home).

I was having a bit of trouble getting the salt water to flow over the cabbage sample (by that capillary action I was telling you about) and, mildly frustrated, I let out a loud, yet controlled, "SCIENCE!".

And I thought, "Hmmm.... did I just do that? Yep-- yes I did. I did give a good 'Science!' just then..."

And I had to think fast to explain myself.

So I convinced my fourth period class that if you yell, "SCIENCE!" every now and again during a lab or experiment, you will find quicker results.

Soon thereafter, I heard one hesitant, "Science!"... then another, and before I knew it, several members of the class were cheering on the experiment with a "SCIENCE!" here and a "SCIENCE!" there.

And it was then that I realized that this teaching thing wasn't so bad.



semipermeable
|ˌsemēˈpərmēəbəl; ˌsemˌī-|
adjective
(of a material or membrane) allowing certain substances to pass through it but not others, esp. allowing the passage of a solvent but not of certain solutes.


but of course... you already knew that.