Archive for July, 2007

Addict

For one blissful day at Apple Hill, the campus was bathed in the sweet, sweet mist of wireless internet access.  I should have known not to get attached.  I should have known it was too good to be true.

Sigh.

The good news is that there is a a great coffee house in Keene where I can grab a few minutes of the interwebs if I get up really early and drive for fifteen minutes to get there.  I have discovered that the interwebs are like my morning coffee: non-negotiable.  My day is no good without it.

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It’s That Time of Year

Well, tomorrow I go charging off into the woods for another year of Apple Hill. To say that I am unprepared to leave is the understatement of the century. My house is a mess, I am unpacked, and I am in denial. I love Apple Hill, but it is traditionally exhausting, and I am already exhausted from a particularly tiring stretch of work activity. Oh well, life moves forward! This year’s musical faculty is chock full of my favorite people so once I am there, the laughing will come fast and furious. I have no doubt that Apple Hill will be incredible, as usual. Getting out of town tomorrow on the other hand…..that could be dicey.

If I have not returned your call recently, please forgive me. If I have not returned your email recently, please forgive me. If I have been a general knucklehead to you recently, I am genuinely sorry. I don’t know how I ended up so overwhelmed this Spring, but I did. (I still think it’s Spring, that’s how out of touch I am these days.) I might be hard to get a hold of in the woods. Email and cell phones are always a little iffy out there, but I’m bringing my computer this time, so at the very least, I can drive my butt into town and find a signal to civilization.

Probably the best thing that could happen to me right now is two weeks in the deep woods- like it or not.

Hey, Look At This Guy!

Wooden Olmsted

Gigantic wooden sculptures have been popping up all over Buffalo, and today I stopped to read the little plaques. This statue of Frederick Law Olmsted was carved out of a tree killed in our October storm. Isn’t that nice? Consider the cockles of my heart officially warmed.

Olmsted Plaque 1

Olmsted Plaque 2

Blog Crush of the Day!

Guess what?  The delightful Neil over at Citizen of the Month, has crowned me his "Blog Crush of the Day".  I know!  As far as I can tell, this is the most action I’ll be seeing in the near future, so I’m really quite excited.  Now, don’t worry loyal readers, my new (24 hour) title will not interfere with our relationship.  I’m still the same Kate I’ve always been, it’s just that now you’ll have to compete for my love! (at least until tomorrow when I return to groveling for your affection.)

Citizen of the Month is a charming combination of funny, sweet, and dirty.  I can highly recommend the Pigeon on the Patio series if you are looking for a laugh out loud, wistful-for-your-Dad, kind of experience.

Now that I think about it, that Neil has quite a racket going on here.  I have just devoted an entire post to him because he put "Oh For Fun" and "Crush" in the same sentence.   Clever.

Strong Independent Woman of the Nineties

In the fall of 1993 I entered Oberlin as a freshman.  Like most good Oberlin newbies, I fancied myself quite the little radical.  Upon entering the student body, as is every freshperson’s rite of passage, I promptly stopped shaving my legs and promptly started using expressions like "the dominant male paradigm".  In truth, I was never a very good radical, and neither were my friends.  Our forays into angry-feminism pretty much started and stopped with the expression "strong independent woman of the nineties".

I can’t remember who first used the expression, "I’m a strong independent woman of the nineties", but it became a rallying cry amongst my female friends.  Part empowering slogan, part tongue-in-cheek silliness, "strong independent woman of the nineties" was destined to become a lifelong fixture of our lexicon.  Even as 18-year-olds we delighted in the fact that eventually our slogan would be hideously outdated, and dare we even predict, ironic.  (Do not forget, this was 1993; Alanis Morissette was our Angry Woman Queen.)

1993:

Courtney: I dunno.  I keep making him mix tapes and he keeps trying to make out with me, but every time I ask him about his supposedly ex-girlfriend, he gets all cagey.  I’m really confused.
Kate: Toss him in the dumper!  You don’t need this kind of hassle.  You’re a strong independent woman of the nineties!
Courtney: Good point.

2007:

Kate: So then this asshole tries to tell me that it’s gonna cost $600 to fix my car door, and I tell him he can eat shit, and then I storm out of the garage all huffy-like.
Ashley: Oooh.  You are such a strong independent woman of the nineties!
Kate: No doubt, sister.

Now, on the dawn of my 32nd birthday, I find myself evaluating my Strong Independent Woman of the Nineties status.  Non-reliance on a man for personal and financial security?  Check.  Preference for being single rather than dealing with guys I’m not really into just for the sake of having a boyfriend?  Check.  General bad-assery and fierceness?  Check, and check.  Sophisticated tastes, and grown-up approach to fanciful crushes?  Er…um…weeell.  Not so much.

My status as a strong independent woman of the nineties has been severely handicapped by my new obsession with hockey.  A big part of the problem is that although my obsession with hockey continues unabated, the hockey season ended weeks ago.  Now trust me, I have ravenously devoured all legitimate hockey news I can get my hands on (as such, I am now practically an expert on the National Hockey Leauge’s CBA.  Seriously.  Ask me anything), but there is only so much a gal can read about hockey players before she has no conclusion available other than, "Dang. He’s a dish."  Hockey has made a fool of me, and my long tenure as a strong independent woman of the nineties is now in jeopardy.

Also, Posh and Becks?  I love them.

Posh and Becks

Posh and Becks are just wrong by strong independent women of the nineties standards, and yet, I love them so. Look at them there all hot and disgustingly sleazy.   Admit it, you love them too.

Conclusion:  Not only am I a strong independent woman of the nineties, I am also a giggling teenager of the naughty-aughties.

(Note: in a googling effort to find any sort of term for the first decade of our current century, I discover that no such term exists.  This decade has no convenient counterpart to "the nineties".  I have taken a fancy to the expression "the naughty-aughties" and will proceed to promote its usage.)

Rough Day at the Office

Today, I was supposed to play an outdoor concert downtown over the lunch hour.  It’s really windy today in Buffalo, and when I arrived at the gig, everyone was in a tizzy because the music stands were blowing over.  So, because of excessive wind, the concert was canceled and my workday (which was scheduled to last all of 55 minutes) was over at 11:45am. 

My life is very, very difficult.  I mean, I had to get up at 9:30 AM to get to that concert.  Plus, I had to find a clean white top and two matching black socks.  Couldn’t someone have called me before I drove an entire mile to the concert?  That seems like the least management could have done.  Someone really screwed the pooch on this one.  I couldn’t even get back to sleep when I got back home at noon.

I’m calling my union rep.

:D

Sorry!

I’ve been a shitty blogger lately, and I’m sorry.  The truth is that I have nothing interesting to say.