Bon Jour,
I am in a cafe in St. Jean de Luz; in the Basque country in France. The keyboard is confusing; so will keep it short. But Susan has requested an update and I hate to keep you all waiting! My thesis is turned in, and though I would like to have had a fez extra days onn parts of it, I am basicqlly pleased. Will post details and possibly even a link later. We head off into the Pyrenees tomorrow, so no more posts for a week or two. Jobs still up in the air, but there are possibilities. I am a little of a superstitious soul regarding jinxes, so have not written about them. If you know my mother, you can ask her. Otherzwise; I will reveal all in mid October.
I am pleased to hear you're still reading and will catch up soon.
By the way, Basque food is amazing!
Monday, September 25, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
YEE HAW!
Okay. It's kicked in. I'm officially running on adrenaline now. I've been unable to sleep decently all week. (Our bed here is cheap and pitiful and every time one of moves the other wakes up, unless deeply ensleeped. My beloved Jason even offered to sleep on the couch a couple of nights ago, so that I could get a good night's sleep and start my frantic last few days well rested. It worked, thank goodness.)
But now, no matter what time of day, with or without blackout mask and/or earplugs, with or without a partner present, I can't sleep. My anxiety about this thesis means that as soon as I lie down, my brain starts cycling through all the things there are to worry about, which equals a considerable number of things at this uncertain juncture of school, jobs, travel plans , etc., not to mention the number of things to wonder about, which are infinite. The worst one, and it keeps happening, is I'll start thinking of people from my past to google while I'm taking precious time from writing to try and grab a quick nap. That is so lame when one has important agricultural livelihoods to figure out, not to mention a future-affecting degree to complete.
At the moment it all seems kind of fun. I've given in to it. I play loud music while writing, I drink coffee after 9pm, and (please, please, please don't tell the anti-globalisation food gods) I'm drinking Coke. (For those of you following the long version of my story, no, it doesn't have high fructose corn syrup here--they use actual sugar in the EU for some reason. And also, no, I don't buy Coke products in the normal run of things and yes, I know they buy public water sources from all over the globe, leaving women to walk miles and/or pay for water to meet basic needs.)
Anyway, it's all going fine. It will be turned in on Friday one way or another. And somehow, I will make sure that it is not more than a few hundred words over the 20,000 word limit.
Okay. It's kicked in. I'm officially running on adrenaline now. I've been unable to sleep decently all week. (Our bed here is cheap and pitiful and every time one of moves the other wakes up, unless deeply ensleeped. My beloved Jason even offered to sleep on the couch a couple of nights ago, so that I could get a good night's sleep and start my frantic last few days well rested. It worked, thank goodness.)
But now, no matter what time of day, with or without blackout mask and/or earplugs, with or without a partner present, I can't sleep. My anxiety about this thesis means that as soon as I lie down, my brain starts cycling through all the things there are to worry about, which equals a considerable number of things at this uncertain juncture of school, jobs, travel plans , etc., not to mention the number of things to wonder about, which are infinite. The worst one, and it keeps happening, is I'll start thinking of people from my past to google while I'm taking precious time from writing to try and grab a quick nap. That is so lame when one has important agricultural livelihoods to figure out, not to mention a future-affecting degree to complete.
At the moment it all seems kind of fun. I've given in to it. I play loud music while writing, I drink coffee after 9pm, and (please, please, please don't tell the anti-globalisation food gods) I'm drinking Coke. (For those of you following the long version of my story, no, it doesn't have high fructose corn syrup here--they use actual sugar in the EU for some reason. And also, no, I don't buy Coke products in the normal run of things and yes, I know they buy public water sources from all over the globe, leaving women to walk miles and/or pay for water to meet basic needs.)
Anyway, it's all going fine. It will be turned in on Friday one way or another. And somehow, I will make sure that it is not more than a few hundred words over the 20,000 word limit.
Friday, September 08, 2006
ME-GRAIN, AS THEY SAY AROUND HERE
My thesis is due next Friday, on the 15th. I've felt okay about my timing, but well aware that I still have a long way to go in a short time. Unfortunately, I have had a nasty week for headaches. Last Thursday and Friday were bad days, but since my supervisor was reviewing a draft i didn't take it too hard, and decided to focus on getting better. (Not that I have a choice when I'm in the midst of one.) Then I met with my supervisor and got good feedback and had a day of detail tinkering before diving in for real on Tuesday. On which morning I woke with a terrible headache again. Another couple of days passed. I'm now recovered, even from the post-headache fog, and back to work.
So, I'm a few days behind and will have to push faster and harder than I like over the next week. I'm scared, and tired, but not in despair. I can't afford despair--I have to hurry.
So send me smart thoughts and focus and calm over the next week and a bit. Oh yeah, and good job vibes--I'm applying for jobs now, too.
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My thesis is due next Friday, on the 15th. I've felt okay about my timing, but well aware that I still have a long way to go in a short time. Unfortunately, I have had a nasty week for headaches. Last Thursday and Friday were bad days, but since my supervisor was reviewing a draft i didn't take it too hard, and decided to focus on getting better. (Not that I have a choice when I'm in the midst of one.) Then I met with my supervisor and got good feedback and had a day of detail tinkering before diving in for real on Tuesday. On which morning I woke with a terrible headache again. Another couple of days passed. I'm now recovered, even from the post-headache fog, and back to work.
So, I'm a few days behind and will have to push faster and harder than I like over the next week. I'm scared, and tired, but not in despair. I can't afford despair--I have to hurry.
So send me smart thoughts and focus and calm over the next week and a bit. Oh yeah, and good job vibes--I'm applying for jobs now, too.
Monday, September 04, 2006
CRIKEY.
The Croc Hunter died today. And not by doing something particularly stupid. He was done in by a stingray. People never die from stingrays. But the Aussie national mascot for derring do was killed by a very precise one. It got him smack in the chest with its poisonous barb and put a hole in his heart.
Say what you will about his invincibility complex or his foolish risks, and even I agree that there’s no good reason to hold your baby in one hand while feeding crocodiles with the other, but we have a pretty big crush on the guy around here.
Much earlier in my days with Jason, my parents came out to visit us in Seattle, and we did the usual tourist things like going on the Underground tour and taking each other’s pictures beside really huge trees in the rainforest on the Olympic Peninsula. We even ran wildly down the trail to catch the last bits of sunset on the farthest west point in the lower forty-eight of our United States. But what was the best part of that trip? What made my parents fall for my future husband? Well, I’ll tell you.
On the way back from the edge of the peninsula, after dark, Jason asked me to pull over by the side of the good ole’ Strait of Juan de Fuca. Then he started pulling out flashlights and headlamps (he’d planned this, apparently). Mom and dad (and probably me) looked a bit wary and not quite sure what was going on. “We’re gonna go tide pool hunting!” shouted a rather more jovial than usual Jason. And off he dashed to the beach. We followed with our gingerly stepping selves and eventually got sucked into the enthusiasm, running around like little kids looking for starfish and shrimp and scurrying over to see what latest thing J. had found to make him shout out, “Hey, come look at this_______!” and proceed to tell us about its feeding habits and its nesting tendencies and whatever.
It was the best. Exhilarating and slightly eerie and really lots of giggly fun. My mom told her office mates and mentioned it during my phone calls for weeks after they went home.
At some point later, Jason confessed to me that he’d basically tried to channel Croc Hunter to get the energy and enthusiasm right and make us all willing to follow along and learn about sea worms. And when he told me, it made perfect sense. He had done a perfect Steve Irwin impression—without the Australian accent, of course. (Though I will say that his knowledge of tidepool life was all his own, remembered from the high school marine biology class of Mr. MacGowan, by all reports another zoologist of boisterous temperament and high eagerness.)
So, you see, I’ve got a soft spot for the Croc Hunter for helping out there. And I’m sad to see him go.
The Croc Hunter died today. And not by doing something particularly stupid. He was done in by a stingray. People never die from stingrays. But the Aussie national mascot for derring do was killed by a very precise one. It got him smack in the chest with its poisonous barb and put a hole in his heart.
Say what you will about his invincibility complex or his foolish risks, and even I agree that there’s no good reason to hold your baby in one hand while feeding crocodiles with the other, but we have a pretty big crush on the guy around here.
Much earlier in my days with Jason, my parents came out to visit us in Seattle, and we did the usual tourist things like going on the Underground tour and taking each other’s pictures beside really huge trees in the rainforest on the Olympic Peninsula. We even ran wildly down the trail to catch the last bits of sunset on the farthest west point in the lower forty-eight of our United States. But what was the best part of that trip? What made my parents fall for my future husband? Well, I’ll tell you.
On the way back from the edge of the peninsula, after dark, Jason asked me to pull over by the side of the good ole’ Strait of Juan de Fuca. Then he started pulling out flashlights and headlamps (he’d planned this, apparently). Mom and dad (and probably me) looked a bit wary and not quite sure what was going on. “We’re gonna go tide pool hunting!” shouted a rather more jovial than usual Jason. And off he dashed to the beach. We followed with our gingerly stepping selves and eventually got sucked into the enthusiasm, running around like little kids looking for starfish and shrimp and scurrying over to see what latest thing J. had found to make him shout out, “Hey, come look at this_______!” and proceed to tell us about its feeding habits and its nesting tendencies and whatever.
It was the best. Exhilarating and slightly eerie and really lots of giggly fun. My mom told her office mates and mentioned it during my phone calls for weeks after they went home.
At some point later, Jason confessed to me that he’d basically tried to channel Croc Hunter to get the energy and enthusiasm right and make us all willing to follow along and learn about sea worms. And when he told me, it made perfect sense. He had done a perfect Steve Irwin impression—without the Australian accent, of course. (Though I will say that his knowledge of tidepool life was all his own, remembered from the high school marine biology class of Mr. MacGowan, by all reports another zoologist of boisterous temperament and high eagerness.)
So, you see, I’ve got a soft spot for the Croc Hunter for helping out there. And I’m sad to see him go.
THE FUTURE'S TOO WILD AND FREE
Summer's leaving quick around these parts. It's felt like fall for weeks, really. But yesterday I noticed that the big tree out back is yellowing. The huge butterfly weed in my garden has fallen over. And our bathroom door sticks again, which means the moisture level is increasing. At least it's actually September now so I can stop being indignant about autumn starting in August.
I started getting a bit nostalgic for my Cardiff school year today. So I took some pictures of regular stuff on my way home. Here's our local empty lot:
Also not far from our flat:
Summer's leaving quick around these parts. It's felt like fall for weeks, really. But yesterday I noticed that the big tree out back is yellowing. The huge butterfly weed in my garden has fallen over. And our bathroom door sticks again, which means the moisture level is increasing. At least it's actually September now so I can stop being indignant about autumn starting in August.
I started getting a bit nostalgic for my Cardiff school year today. So I took some pictures of regular stuff on my way home. Here's our local empty lot:
Also not far from our flat:
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