So Matt and I were discussing what to wear the other day as we stood in front of our digital thermometer, watching it blink 60 degrees at us. Sixty and sunny? Windy? Coolish? Warmish? That's when I confessed that I have a system. Of course I have a system--I'm the Dork Queen of Organization from the Land of Alphabetized Spices. As a fun way to celebrate fall for all those who believe they have a reason to live in Dork Land, here is my system, moving downward:

80+: tank top, shorts, sandals
75-80: t-shirt, shorts, sandals
70-75: t-shirt, long pants, sandals
65-70: change to long-sleeve shirt and shoes
50-65: start wearing a jacket
40-50: move to a coat, start wearing a scarf
30-40: put on gloves, start wearing turtlenecks and sweaters underneath, no more skirts
30 and below: start wearing a hat, change to a parka, haul out the knitted wool sweaters
0 and below: long johns, scarf around face, change to ski gloves, hood over hat

*when you're on the border of two categories, it also depends on whether it's humid, rainy, windy or really warm and sunny.

The dissertation and fellowship nightmares have officially begun. They're manifesting themselves in dreams where I get chased by a guy with a knife or locked in a submarine that's sinking.

Sick with a cold AGAIN. The man? Healthy. Immune. Of course, why would he? He's the bionic man. Wasn't there some movie where Bruce Willis realizes he's never been sick? Something like "Unbreakable" or some such title.

These things always come at the perfect time: I have to defend my dissertation proposal tomorrow AND give two tours to my class at the Met on Friday. They will be welcomed by me and Mr. Hanky.

Once upon a time, a friend I have had since birth found out that her grandpa was dating again after her grandmother's death. This new love interest spent her days in the retirement community hand-painting pre-made figurines of Western-themed art. This woman gave one such piece to my friend's mother as a gift. It was truly quite a piece: a native man running naked with wolves. She had even painted him with eyeliner. My friend's mom is also friends with my mom (which is how my friend and I met as babies). Every New Year's Eve, my mom, her friend and their social group get together for a "White Elephant" party--a Yankee swap but with horrible gifts that the owners couldn't quite throw away because they were "too good to toss." My mom became the lucky owner of the native running man. Six weeks later she sent it to my husband as a surprise birthday present. Oh what a surprise it was.

My husband decided to take it to work because neither of us could stand to have the native man in our house. Matt was delightfully surprised to find that the native man seriously bothered his lab parter, an older French woman whom he enjoys teasing on occasion. He began calling the native man his "objet d'art" and prominently displayed it on the windowsill between their desks. Sometimes he would come in to work to discover that the French woman had hidden the native man behind a row of plants, so he would feign outrage and bring him prominently back to the front.

This continued for six months until one day their Colombian cleaning woman expressed interest in and admiration for the native man. Matt hesistated. He wasn't sure if she was serious or joking. He consulted with me, and I suggested he offer it to her as a gift. If she was joking, she would turn it down. He did just that, much to the delight of both the Colombian cleaning lady and the French woman. The native man was carried off to his new, happy home.

Now Matt misses him. He wants another garish sculpture to torment his lab partner with. He left a shopping list on my desk: eggs, milk, bread, more Western statue. Luckily, we will be making a pass through Salt Lake City airport gift shop for the holidays. Matt may get his Christmas wish.

Hey all. Long time no write! Well, today's events just couldn't go without a mention. Matt was goaded by a co-worker into posting his picture onto a website called something like "Am I hot?" His co-worker had been rated a 7.7 and wanted to know what Matt would get. Matt showed me this horrid website and it was pretty much what you would imagine it to be--a lot of sleazy-looking college girls trying to support their sagging self-esteem through meaningless reinforcement from strangers.

And yet, I couldn't look away. It was like watching a car wreck.

The lucky thing is that Matt's ego was given a timely boost by him receiving a 9.8--although he readily admitted that it didn't mean much considering the kind of people it was coming from. Yet, in a way I think it was nice for him to hear during a stressful month that strangers find him attractive. I told him he should join a boy band, so we can REALLY rake in the dough.

If only he weren't kind of tone deaf. ;)

Poor Matt. He ordered a foot-long meatball sub from Subway yesterday and now is as sick as a dog. He is rather happy to be staying home from work and watching baseball, however. Every dark cloud has a silver lining.

Knitting from the last four months!

So here's one of the weirdest quirks that my PhD advisor has. This following scenario happens EVERY. TIME.

[towards end of meeting on Monday]

Me: So great--when would you like me to come back to pick up the corrections?

Him: Come back Thursday and we'll discuss the corrections.

Me [gets out calendar]: When would you like me to come by?

Him: We'll email Wednesday and decide.

Me: Um, well, I'm free all day, so whenever is fine.

Him: Great. Just send me an email to confirm.

Me: Oh, are you waiting to hear back from someone else on a meeting time and want to keep it open for now?

Him: No.

Me: Um, okay, so...is email really necessary? I mean, you seem to have your i-phone calendar out. Really, you could just pick a time now.

Him: Let's pick on Wednesday over email.

Me: Okaaaaaaay, fine.


[Wednesday, over email]

Me: So, um, this is me following up. What time would you like me to come tomorrow?

Him: 1:30.

Me: Okay, great. [in my head: Really. This isn't something you could have decided MONDAY.]

I swear, this happens EVERY SINGLE TIME. In fact, sometimes he's told me to email him THAT NIGHT so he could decide. He has his calendar/pda RIGHT THERE WITH HIM. He could just LOOK AT IT. Or it could just be a formality or power-trip thing. The man IS British.

Ladies. I have two skeins (@109 yards) of Noro Daria multi in a discontinued color. As you may know, it's cord-like, so probably a bag or belt is the way to go. Please let me know what you think (pick one).

Skulllady should...

A) knit a large, funky belt to go with her green and red khakis! I have no idea what she'd do with the second skein--maybe make one for a friend? (1 skein)

B) knit a small handbag, although she'll have to buy a set of handles because she won't have enough for a strap. (2 skeins)

C) knit a scarf: it's the skulllady tradition. (2 skeins)

D) Screw those choices. Knit a [fill in the blank]!

For the first time in five years, I went over our minutes on our phone bill. Normally, we have 500 peak-time minutes per month to use during the weekday (until 7pm). Normally, I use maybe 300 and change. This month? I blew past it will 800+. Total bill? $250. OUCH. Got reprimanded by husband for not being careful.

Got my ears flushed and vacuumed (yes, they now have an ear vacuum). At one point, the ENT guy said to his assistant, "Gosh, I didn't know an ear canal could FIT that much stuff!" You're welcome!

Now I am SUCH a happy camper. I can hear TOILET PAPER crinkle!

So I haven't been able to hear out of my left ear since Sunday. I am one of those lucky people who have to get their ears flushed out on occasion (Dad's earwax genes are made of WIN). I wasn't able to get an appointment until today (thank you, NYC), and by now I'm developing headaches and dizziness.

But.

I am still more cheerful than the woeful Sox fan slouching around the apartment this morning, grumbling about how much he hates work. Oh alas! The gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands! Cruel fates! I was careful not to bring up last night's conversation:

Him: Why do I get so upset when I watch the Sox? I wish I could just enjoy the game and not get so emotionally involved.

Me: You internalized them when you were 7, and they lost to the Mets. Ever since, their win is your personal win; their loss is your personal loss.

Him: How do I get UN-internalized??

Me: Dunno. Most guys attach themselves to a team--it's an emotional outlet. You might have to ask a psychologist about that.

Meanwhile in dissertation proposal land...

After much procrastination and handling of computer problems I have:

1. successfully labeled all of my France photos from the last two summers!
2. realized that I can use the paper I gave at the Michigan conference as the bulk of the proposal (at least the parts "Background of Topic" and "Research Plan").
3. cut and pasted said paper into proposal and began editing process.
4. typed up the bibliography.
5. successfully obtained three professors for my committee.
6. typed up syllabus for class this semester.

So really the two things I have left to do are major, but doable. They are a) choosing readings to assign my students and put them on the syllabus and b) write the dreaded "State of Scholarship" section of my proposal. I am determined to astound my professors with a rought draft when they return for the beginning of the school year. Most people don't even START on their proposal until September. I want mine approved by October, bitches.

I am making myself a beret. Because what else do you DO with two skeins of fuzzy white French yarn?

Interweave Knits, Winter 2008, people.

For your Thursday amusement, here is a list of people who have tried to friend me in the past two weeks and my relationship to them. I ignored them because, well, WE WERE NEVER FRIENDS. In fact, I don't think we ever SPOKE.

1. My high school friend's weird dad.
2. A Mormon guy with a wife and three kids who I apparently graduated from high school with but don't recognize whatsoever.
3. The daughter of my mom's neighbor, whom I never knew and who I have not lived next to in 14 years.


Do you ever feel like some people are trying to use you as "filler" to make their friends section bigger? I don't particularly want to read their daily updates. Since I don't actually know them and all.

So Wednesday a few of my grad school friends and I rented a car and drove up to Binghamton for the funeral of my friend James. I learned from them that he had the same condition that my father has: a malformed heart valve. Now, not only does the heart have to work harder to pump blood through, but usually this also creates pools and eddies behind the valve that can get infected (caveat: I'm no doctor, so I don't know all the specifics or am certain exactly how all this works). My father was 40 when he came down with an infection in the heart and his valve started failing. Now, he didn't KNOW he had a bad valve at the time--his symptoms were heart-attack and flu-like: being run-down, shortness of breath, pain the arms/legs, etc. Luckily, my ever-vigilant mother took him right to the doctor, and they were able to diagnose him and take him for surgery that same week. It was a close call.

James knew he had a bad valve since he was a kid and that someday he'd have to get it replaced. At some point this year, his doctor said that it would have to happen this year. At age 37, this makes sense to me--he's around the age my father was when his valve started to go. What I gather is that James came down with the flu in early June. Now, I don't know if he ACTUALLY had the flu or if he got a heart infection and thought it was the flu. Here's the key: I don't know if he ACTUALLY saw the doctor at that point or not, but he kept telling people it was the flu even though he had no nasal symptoms and was losing serious weight from lack of appetite. By the time he went to the doctor last Wednesday with shortness of breath, the infection was really bad. From overheard snippets of conversation, I gathered that they checked him into the hospital that day and put him on anti-biotics, which made him feel better by Thursday. The doctors scheduled a valve-replacement surgery for the weekend, but it was too late. Friday he deteriorated quickly--his valve just couldn't take it anymore.

Maybe it was the doctor who dropped the ball. Maybe it was James stubbornly waiting till the last minute to get it checked out (he was at work on Tuesday!). Maybe he just didn't have someone like my health-eagle-eye mom there to whisk him to the doctor at the first sign of trouble. He didn't tell anybody at work about his heart condition until the week before--I wish I had known so I could tell him about my dad and warn him, but would it have done any good? Who knows. But I have to say that the funeral was beautiful, well-attended, and a great opportunity to hear stories and see photos of James. We were all glad we went and were able to commiserate and be together. They had even posted a letter to the principal he had written in high school that started, "In retrospect, I probably should not have brought a squirt gun to our graduation ceremonies..."

I'm relieved that the mystery is over. I know what happened, and because of my dad's experience I know how serious this can be. My mom's cousin's husband also had this problem. He got surgery in time but chose the mechanical valve instead of a human one. It failed after six months and he died instantly. So there's not always a guarantee--my dad was just one of the lucky ones.

Thanks to everyone for their well-wishing. It just goes to show you that you have to appreciate your friends while they're around! And I definitely appreciate all of you. :)

Love, ME

A good co-worker/aquaintance-friend died on Friday. I'm not devastated as I would be for a close friend, but still sad because I had known and worked with him on and off for the past three years since he ran the department visual media center. Occasionally, a group of us would go out for a beer. This department has a lot of big egos and demanding professors, but he had the strength to stand up to them when need be, yet the diplomacy to give them help or instruction so they wouldn't walk away in a huff. Not only that, he had a sharp wit and was great fun to hang out with. I had so much respect for that guy.

The saddest thing is the fact that he was only 37...and a taekwondo expert in pretty good shape. All I heard was that he had "died unexpectedly after a short illness." While I don't want to be nosey, what the heck does THAT mean? The man was an ox! All I know is that he had the flu six weeks ago, but got over it (I saw him last month and he seemed his usual self). Then someone mentioned they had talked to him about his recent "neck injury" but that it wasn't serious. Then another person said they saw him last week and he "looked really ill, kind of gaunt," but was still at work--and posting to facebook. It's the mystery I don't like. The not knowing.

I'm also sad because I know he had been single for a while and quite lonely but had recently started dating a woman in the spring whom he really liked. Just as everything was going well for him, this had to happen.

"They call it 'PMS' because 'Mad Cow Disease' was already taken."

We had a good time at my aunt's house with mini-golf, fireworks, and cook-out. Their town has a new casino, and since my aunt and uncle had not been inside yet and Matt had never been in a casino before, we all went over to check it out. Matt was surprised at how depressing such a place can be. The usual casino crowd was there: the elderly, the handicapped (those with oxygen tanks and ride-on scooters), and the down-trodden. Matt, always cautious, won $2.50 and stopped. My uncle won $20, but then lost it again, much to my aunt's chagrin.

I can tell my newly-graduated cousin and his mom (my aunt) are getting on each other's nerves big-time now that he's living at home again. "Nic" leaves dirty dishes out and abandons his laundry half-finished in the laundry room for a week. He's also 23 and dating a 36-year-old woman, which bothers my aunt to no end. Of course, I couldn't resist spending the weekend teasing Nic: "So, how's Mrs. Robinson?" or "I hear Stella got her groove back." He does have a summer job at the university doing computer work, but it's a temporary one because the place is on a hiring freeze. However, Nic has saved enough money to go to Paris (he's half Swiss and has permission to work in the EU, lucky duck) in September and look for a job for three months. If he doesn't find one by Christmas, he'll have to come home and look here in the states. He does have a couple of interviews lined up, so he's not wasting his time. He definitely knows what he wants--a design job (cars, video games or web-sites) or a computer/film editing job. He did such a good job on our wedding video that I suggested he keep in mind that he could also work for a wedding or event videographer.