YOU'RE SO GEOCENTRIC

So the sun is over the Tropic of Capricorn. A good time for walks, though you've got to watch your footing on the icy sidewalks.

The other night my dad printed out the length of day charts for Denver, Salt Lake, Seattle, Miami, South Bend, IN, and Minneapolis--the cities in which we now live. Minneapolis, where my uncle lives, spends the most time in the dark. My older sister is soaking up the sun down there in Miami.

And in the Beehive State, we've got particularly late mornings, but this means later evenings, too. My dad seems to think the solstice a bit of a trick, though. Mornings keep getting later for another week, even though we're gaining minutes on the sunset end.


And I am older, once again. In the final whirlwind of the semester (so quickly forgotten), Esther hosted a little gathering at her place in honor of my birthday. Catie baked cupcakes. V. entertained us with her up-to-date, politically correct sex-ed, Esther played the banjo, Jordan played the dombura, and I met two new friends. Esther's old pal Julia was visiting from San Franciso, and Catie's neighbor Elisha was there, too. This photo is of a leftover cupcake that I ate during a break from that darned paper, which I did eventually finish, by the way.

THE MAGICIAN & THE SURGEON

Still working on that paper, but I finished the fun project at pretty much the last minute, and at pretty much the point it ceased being fun. It's definitely not a perfect book, and among other errors includes a painful typo on the title page, which I just noticed, but overall, I am pleased with it. I snapped off a couple of photos before rushing over to drop it off at my professor's house, where she opened the door with her mouth full, and told me she had her mouth full. I think a few crumbs fell out. This does not sound particularly charming, but somehow it was.

HEEDLESS OF THE WIND AND WEATHER

The English Department holiday party started off feeling something like a wedding reception--the kind when you really only know the bride, or only the groom, and not many of the other guests. I watched my professors from across the room, but avoided actually speaking with them. I wondered about all the unfamiliar faces. I slipped on my new shoes (but didn't quite fall). I filled my plate with tasty food. I got a second glass of wine. But actually, I knew a lot of people there, and soon conversations picked up.



Eventually, there was dancing...lots of awkward dancing. Only a few professors stuck around for this, and they seemed to be having an excellent time. I did not assess dancing styles or trends by discipline, but the medieval lit. professor was really getting down. Other professor-dancers included a genre bending fiction writer, a gender studies/queer theorist, and a Joyce scholar...

Why did I once think that Matt was shy?





Danielle has a fabulous laugh pretty much all the time, but dancing really taps into her wild side.


Tim showed off his classy coat.

But it seems he really wants one like Catie's.




Eventually, there was pool at Juniors. I mean, who's seriously going to go home and write those final papers after dancing? Dancing eliminates the possibility of writing final papers.




I think Catie was suspicious of Tim's geometry skills.








Matt and I named ourselves Team Nerd because we were up against some formidably stylish folks. But with a little luck, our nerdiness prevailed.




The next night was Working Dog, the creative writing program reading series, which is always a treat. Susan helps run the series.

And Catie read some poems.

I HAVE A LONG PAPER TO WRITE

Meine Wee Schwester has up and moved from Denver to South Bend, Indiana, where her fiance has a fantastic teaching job. Lucky for me, this move has been accompanied by a new blog. I thought it was funny to see we both have these orange lantern plants on display in our homes.


It has been cold. In fact, it has been dumping snow all morning (This is a photo from last week). A car just drove by blasting "Jingle Bell Rock."



Back in November, just before Thanksgiving, Catie hosted a little birthday gathering in celebration of...



V., who turned the ripe old age of 27 (look at me, blabbing ages here). Have a fantastic year, V!



Shira came.



And Esther.



And me. And we ate spinach-raisin-goat cheese pizza, and drank wine, and V. blew out her candles on a salted chocolate chip cookie.



I spent Thanksgiving at Esther and Jordan's, with a whole crew of writers and friends of writers. The photos from that evening are far too blurry and dark and unflattering for posting, but I'm posting a couple anyway. I will blame it on the fact that the evening was blurry in spirit, or at least blurred by spirits...But Esther plays the banjo, and has the most amazing voice.

I brought my saw, which I hadn't played in quite some months. Jordan gave it a go.

Halloween ended with these two in a wrestling match, and Tim is still recovering from a separated shoulder, but I guess they've patched things up.



The best thing about Thanksgiving weekend was a visit from my favorite librarian. I took him to Gilgal Gardens. He has been building up the UW's vernacular art/built environment/folk artist/visionary art environment (terminology is so complicated) slide collection, so a visit to Gilgal could be counted as "research." I wonder if he could write off the expense of his plane ticket...?

I know I have posted photos of Mr. Thomas Battersby Childs, Jr. in his splendid brick pants before, but he's cool enough to qualify for a second appearance.

The garden is smack-dab in the middle of a nieghborhood, near a mall and Wonder Bread factory.


The Angel Moroni, sculpted in wire, trumpets over the garden.

And Joseph Smith as Sphinx is pretty darned cool, too.



Inscribed on the Smith-Sphinx's chest is the Temple and the stars of the Big Dipper.