I have an interview friday. it's in the u.p. and very, very west. (over 2 hours from marquette and two from duluth minnesota. west.)


i'm nervous, excited, and a little bit worried.

Student teaching, grad courses... done.

I'm taking a year before I start really working on my MA (9 credits down 21 to go!) and I'm looking forward to it.

I have entered find-leroy-a-job mode as well as summer and it feels great.

First off. I I thought Bozeman was gorgeous. Well, the view at least. The thousands of houses in subdivisions and a mile from town I could do without. The mountains, the blue sky, the rivers, and every thing else, though--beautiful. You were right, crazyaznfool .

The flight there was a recipe for disaster. There were 5 children within 12 feet of me all under the age of 11. Terrible on paper. However, throw in 6 DS's (mine included) and Mario Kart, and you have the makings of a decent trip. One of the kiddos actually tapped me on the shoulder while I was playing CrossworDS and asked me very politely if I wanted to play Mario Kart. I obliged and repeatedly won races. It was a steady half-hour of ass kicking before they switched games. I was satisfied.

Upon arriving in Bozeman, Erika picked me up and drove me back to her house. We spent a total of 20 minutes there before heading out on a 3-legged bar crawl. Epic. Attached co-ed teams raced through 8 Bozeman bars drinking a beer and a shot at each. The rules were simple; one beer and one shot per team had to be consumed before moving to the next bar, and the only reason to unattach was the bathroom (though discouraged as this was a race). After the last bar, all competitors ordered a drink, then moved back to a previous venue to spend the rest of the night. I would like East Lansing bars to take a hint from Bozeman and reject cover charges so events like this can take place. 

I spent the rest of the week hiking, being lazy, and enjoying the scenery and the accompanying lack of responsibility. It was a good trip.

Easter at the Zagata house, as always, was a riot. Shot Monopoly was played and we even broke out the twenty-ish year old bottle of Oaxacan Mezcal. (Think pale yellow with a disintigrating worm in the bottom...) It was as awful as it looks. On a more festive note, ask happyella where she found her Easter basket.

I'm finally back to the grind, and mere weeks away from completing my student teaching. I feel less and less like an intern every day and more like a real teacher. Getting there...

I am currently hanging out in Bozeman, Montana at Erika's house. I can see snow-covered mountains out the window and it's going to be 65 degrees and sunny all day. Beautiful. I went for a run yesterday, and the elevation killed me. It's only 4,000 feet higher than East Lansing...

This makes me want to live in the mountains...

I thought I was definitely going to be in a horror movie Saturday...

First, look at this website.

This is the company/woman who I signed up with for a First Aid and CPR class. (It's required by Michigan law for me to be certified when I get my teaching certificate...) When I saw the website, I was certain I'd be going to a nice little building in Grand Ledge where a woman runs workshops and training seminars.

While driving, I started to get a little nervous; Google was sending me into a neighborhood. CartWheels! is this woman's basement.

As the other students and I were instructed to remove our shoes, step over the dog barrier, and head downstairs, I was positive I'd never see the light of day again.

Turns out it was just a nurse and her basement. There was a touch of insanity, though...


In other news, I'm getting old. It's 10:40 and I'm thinking about how it's past my bed time. People ask me out on a Thursday night and I decline. I volunteer to DD. Counting down the days until May 1...

I have officially parted ways with the Oldsmobile. for those of you who have not had the pleasure of knowing this beautiful beast, let me explain:

I got the car, a 1986 Oldsmobile Delta 88 with a 3.8 liter V6 engine, the summer of 2006. Getting it back home was an adventure in itself. My grandmother, as she was (and still is) not an incredibly safe person to have behind the wheel, granted me the opportunity to take this set of wheels. Grandma lives in Marquette, and at the time, I was about 5 hours away. I hitched a ride up with a former teacher, spent the night with Grandma, and left the next day.

There was about a quart and a half (about third of what was required) of oil in the machine, the coolant was low, the tires were underinflated and there was little gas left in the tank. Upon remedying this situation at the local gas station, I began my trip from Marquette to beautiful Manton, Michigan.

I was comfortable. It was warm, I drove with the windows cracked and the radio up. The crushed red velvet seats were beautiful and cozy. Upon stopping just north of the great Mackinac Bridge, I fueled myself with sunflower seeds, water, and a monster. This is when I noticed the lack of cup holders. This baffled me as Oldsmobile, who included power seats, power windows, power locks, air conditioning and a tape deck in a car built in 1986, failed to see the need for people to store their methods of hydration. 

Upon arriving in Manton, I gave the flat-black beauty a tune up. After changing all the spark plugs (and cutting my hands quite a bit in the process), flushing the radiator, changing the oil and filter, and changing the air filter, it was a new machine. 

Aside from a few quick fixes (a stuck thermostat that cost me seven dollars and 20 minutes in the sub-zero winds of Kalkaska, a loose connection that left Daniel stranded on Lake Lansing Road, the occasional stalling that always seemed to be a problem for everyone but me, and a blown power steering line) the car was a beauty for 2 years.

Things started to get dicy in late 2008. The power steering pump found itself a new way to leak fluid, and a constant supply was kept in the trunk. Finally, in early 2009, things got shaky. Really shaky. Idling became an issue for the Olds. It felt like the engine was surging to leap through the hood of the car. I limped the car into my favorite repair shop. While I waited across the street enjoying a Heartland Scramble at Denny's, the mechanic ran some diagnostics. He called me forty minutes later with the news. The diagnostics, he said, would be free. The car, he also noted, would probably need to head to that big scrapyard in the sky. He said I could pour a few hundred dollars in it to know for sure that the engine was shot (compression, cam, and lifters on top of the power steering and engine mounts that I already knew about) or look for a new car.

That said, If you have ever experienced the Oldsmobile--commented on the red velvet, noted how it was "murdered out" because of the lack of clear coat, jumped when the brake light chimed and turned on, piled in the back, flew over the hills of Camp Daggett road, pushed it into or out of the garage with me, pooped on it and filled it with newspaper (John Paul and Cullen), or merely saw it and laughed--rest easy knowing that when I traded it in at the dealer, the salesman laughed at it as well.

just did a free hour long workout with a trainer. kicked the shit out of me. might have to buy sessions...

my car is in dire need of some repair. the starter is nearly shot, and my power steering system has a massive leak somewhere--i think the pump might be going...

the power steering is something i can just deal with, or even put one in if i have to, but i need to take her in for the starter. tomorrow starts the calling of mechanics.

today was a bad day. read no further if you don't want to hear me bitch.

i had a sweet lesson for the kiddos in brit lit. after finishing act 3 of macbee, they were going to make yearbook pages for the characters. this entailed drawing the characters and adding in things like "voted most likely to..." it was a good way to explore the characters and reinforce them in the students' mind. plus it wasn't a worksheet. i hate worksheets. what i didn't know was introducing to crayola washable markers to 11th grade honors boys was, in essence, reducing them to first graders. they spent most of their time finding new ways to draw on eachother. the tactics ranged from swiping a marker across the victim all the way to creating poles by sticking the markers together and dotting the other with their telescopic crayola. nothing i could say would deter this mess. it's funny unless you're the teacher. to top it all off, they did this in front of my field instructor who was in for observation. apparently i had done something to them for which they sought revenge.

when i got home my last rat was dead in the bottom of the cage.

sigh.