New Mexico . . . You Know you Want it

The other day J and I went on a long drive into Lincoln National Forest, and eventually reached this view, about 7,000 feet up. Don't you just love the desert? Ok, maybe the rusted out car halfway down the mountain slope and the lack of guardrails were a little disconcerting, but the view was worth it.

I've been enjoying 80-degree temperatures and constant sunshine, and seriously wondering why people bother to live in places where its crowded and it snows. Maybe it's not as festive to have Christmas lights on a house surrounded by cactus and palm trees, but let me tell you, New Mexicans sure can decorate.

Of course I haven't been doing what I should (attempting to pass my French exam), but rather have been enjoying the idea of doing nothing. I've saving up because I know that in a few more weeks leisure will be a thing of the past. (No! Don't think about that!)

My first sweater

Here's my first sweater, which took a little less than 2 years to complete. Why so long? Well, it was knit on size 4 needles, to start, and it quickly became one of those "I don't know if I really like this anymore" things. The pattern is a modified version of Peppermint Twist from SnB. It's made of wool-ease, which softened up in the dryer, but is still a little scratchy on my neck. Even if I don't wear it much, I think it served its purpose by keeping me occupied for years :)

Fini!

I am now officially finished with my first semester of grad school! Whew [insert huge sigh of relief.] I now have nearly 2 months to read books not related to art history and watch hours and hours of tv. One thing I have been doing to relax is taking online tests (after all, they are scientifically proven.) Here's my identity in a past life:

Sarah, you're a Hamster!

Come out and play!— In your previous life, you were a hamster named Vladimir. Here's what we know about you: Born on the plains of Siberia, you spent your early years weathering harsh winters, drinking vodka, and attending committee meetings. Determined and headstrong, you always got your way when push came to shove. But it wasn't all darkness - no one knew how to let loose and have a good time better than you. You were the reigning Twister champ, and you always emerged victorious from the Bolshevik's annual Dance-athon (your signature step, the Funky Chicken, was a huge crowd pleaser). As you were also quite the health fanatic, you developed and patented a set of exercise wheel fitness videos that quickly became all the rage in Siberia. Your commercial success led you to denounce Communism and head for the States, where you ultimately provided the inspiration for a wacky Web site and song.

I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty accurate.

Another Writing Marathon

Why has there been a void of entertaining stories and random exploits as of late? Check out my "dining room" table: three months worth of research needs to be written into yet another giant paper for some reason. But let me take a moment to maniacally laugh with glee at my ingeniousness: I am writing a paper on a house that was destroyed 9 years ago, thus I can say what I want and no one can prove me wrong! Muhahahahaha . . .

In only 2 weeks I will be officially finished with my first semester of grad school. Whew! In line for the luxuriously long winter break is a trip to New Mexico and Saguaro National Park - and if no stories surface by then, well, I'll just have to make one up.

(Another) Fire!

So its Saturday night, and I'm sitting in the living room talking on the phone. I notice a lot of sirens, but don't think anything of it. After hearing a lot more, I get up and look outside, and I can see flashing lights. So I go outside and walk down the street, and see at least 10 fire trucks, and that part of my apartment complex is ON FIRE. Flames were shooting out of the roof and everything. Luckily it was not a building close to mine, but here's what I saw this morning. Why is it that everywhere I go something catches on fire?

Writing writing writing

13 1/2 pages into Rembrandtery goodness. The past two weeks have been filled with trying to find euphemisms for "fat" and challenging myself on how many times I can say "breast" in one paper. Although I've been so consumed by Rembrandt that I forgot how to spell acknowledge ("aknoldge") somewhere around 2500 words.

It's funny, when I'm writing a paper (especially a 6000 word behemoth like this one), it suddenly becomes REALLY important to do other things. Like vacuum, empty the dishwasher, and re-organize my closet. I actually convinced myself I couldn't do work while the sheets were in the washer.

I've also been going a little stir-crazy, being the former park ranger suddenly shoved into a sedentary occupation. So I went hiking near my house, 5 miles. It's a lot different than hiking in the desert, namely, you can hear the traffic from any point on the trail. Here's some pictures of the fall foliage in the wonderful valley in which I live.

Big City

Last week I left scenic Delaware for a few days in the big city. And yes, it was confirmed. I still hate the air and space museum. Besides the entire place being old and moldy, and all the displays broken, it really is insane to charge $4 for a hockey-puck sized chunk of "astronaut ice cream." It's one of those things that everyone remembers being really good when they were a kid, but now just tastes like tums.

I digress. The day was beautiful, and we visited the American History museum, toured the Capitol building, walked through the Botanic Gardens, saw various and sundry memorials, and went to the National Museum of Women in the Arts. (If you go there, beware of the woman breathing under the table.)

It really just went perfectly, and thus I have no funny stories. (Except for hiding a contraband item outside the American Indian museum, but perhaps I shouldn't advertise that one publically . . . ) Just enjoy the pictures, of me in a me-sized house.

I Heart Mills

On Saturday I had a fieldtrip scheduled for 7:30 a.m. With that start time, it was doomed from the start. I was going to look at 4 mills for my architecture class, "rain or shine." And rain it did.


More like torrential downpour. We had around 8 inches of rain in 24 hours, causing wide-spread flooding and all around dangerous conditions. In other words, the perfect day to ride around rural Pennsylvania in a "Fightin' Blue Hens" charter bus driven by the worst bus driver in the world. The emergency broadcasts over the radio were warning residents not to leave their houses, and only travel if absolutely necessary. It was absolutely necessary to look at old mills, apparently.

It wouldn't have been so horrid had the bathroom been working. Since we were going to old mills with no bathrooms, we intentionally got a bus with a bathroom. But no, we were held hostage in a hot, humid bus with no working bathroom. I was relieved when at one mill I spotted a port-a-potty in a middle of a field with a sign that said "restrooms" posted next to it. Truthfully, it was the nicest port-a-potty I've seen (and those that know me know I'm a bathroom expert), but all nicety disappeared when I had to walk through the lake to get to it.

Mills are not exactly a "hip" field, so we were shown around by ancient mill caretakers wearing English-farmer type wellies, who LOVED talking about mill technology. If anyone would like to know the difference between a roller mill and a stone mills or the advantages of turbines over a wheel, I'll be happy to tell you. The most fun I had on the trip was watching full-sized trees float down swollen creeks.

While I was doing this, my old college roommate was doing something slightly more painful, i.e. giving birth. Welcome Henry Lee! And when you get to college, stay away from mill fieldtrips, however tempting they might sound.

Blocking it All Out

The fabulous Shannon Banks has a brand-spankin'-new online newspaper column! Way to go putting that English degree to work! Checkout her wittiness at:

http://www.jacksonville.com/community/cc/barefoot/

As they say, and now for something completely different. Am I un-American for hating iPods? Especially the tiny shiny pink ones? Is it totally necessary to be listening to Britney Spears while blindly dashing across major intersections? Apparently, it is required of all undergrads at my state-university-that-shall-not-be-named-but-you-can-probably-figure-it-out to have some sort of electronic equipment permanently attached to one's head, be it a cell phone or any music-producing device. The Britney Spears reference was not arbitrary: I actually heard a conversation involving a seemingly grown person saying, "I used to like Britney Spears but I totally don't anymore." At that moment I said to myself, "Self, I must get out my cell phone! I just remembered I need to talk to someone urgently about my sudden repultion with Paris Hilton's tiny dog! This is a matter that cannot possibly wait!"

Excuse me while I put my earphones back on. Maroon 5 is much more interesting than the train whistle anyway.

Grad Student Life

When people told me that grad students didn't have lives, I didn't believe them. And I was right, grad students DO have lives. They have lives that are filled with insane reading, sucking up, work, and hours of class discussion. My first week of school I was assigned 422 pages of reading. This is in addition to my 20 hours of work, 9 hours of class, and research for my seminar papers. So yes, I do have a life, just not one that I totally control.

As to that 422 pages of reading . . . last week I read a glossary about bricks. Flemish bond, running bond, types of morter, dentilation, etc., etc. I READ A GLOSSARY. Although I do have to say it was a lot better than the treatise I read today on the history of brick making technology. And the sad part is, after I finish these 4 semesters of rigorous information obtainment, I'm probably just going to have to go back and be a seasonal park ranger again. When the hurricane hit New Orleans, you didn't see a big call go out for the art historians.

Apparently I'm having a problem with spammers (see the comments from the last posting), so if you leave a comment, you'll now have to do one of those annoying things where you type in the weird-looking letters.