It's like fancy feast, but for humans.

Just so you all don't forget, we make food up here. Fancy food.

We have been making homemade tortillas recently, and they have been so delicious! We've made whole wheat ones as well as just plain flour tortillas, and they have both been super tasty.

One week not too long ago I went on a vegetarian/no enriched foods diet. It went pretty well, and it lined up with National Vegetarian Week, so that was nice. We ate a lot of beans and salads, and a lot of brown rice. Overall it went pretty well, although I was glad to go back to multigrain pasta...whole wheat pasta is so intense. Although I don't mind the whole wheat with Cowboy Spaghetti, it's already such a hearty meal that you hardly notice how wheat-y the noodles really are.

We're still waiting to hear back from the U of M, but unless every possible thing goes wrong, it is looking like that is where we'll end up next year. I have been applying for a couple jobs and even an internship...

so let's all cross our fingers and hope something comes my way!

Boom, baby!

I have ever so much to blog about.

Our time is winding down here, and so is this semester. But when I say winding down I mean ramping up. REALLY RAMPING UP. In Administrative Law (aka, the class that is destroying my soul) we are barely half way through the textbook and so the professor is trying to cram the whole Administrative Procedure Act and about twelve long cases a night into our brains. 

Admin is already a bear of a class, I didn't need the extra reading.

On the brighter side, Admin is the only actual final I will have to take. The rest are papers or projects, which are a separate sort of beast. 

Granted the final is eight hours...

Jake and I recently ran out of our beloved crushed green chile. But I ordered some from that place I told you all about in an earlier post, Chimayo To Go, and went for the full pound bag. It was only about eight dollars, they sent it to me so fast, and there was a hand-written note inside telling me to enjoy! It was delightful, and everyone should buy some delicious spices from them.

You all might not need the full pound bag, however...

It is a lot of green chile.

 

But we seriously do use it almost everyday.

We have established quite the group of friends out here that we are going to miss a lot when we all go our separate ways. 

Last weekend we had a murder mystery party! Brian and Nicole (see blog list to the right) hosted it and it was a ton of fun. Probably the funniest thing about it was that everyone ended up being guilty--everyone tried to murder this guy. It's too bad really because he seemed like an okay guy in the end.

I was Lolita X. Posure, photographer/assassin, Jake was Wirth Les Bonds, New York Senator/sleaze ball. I tried to kill the guy with a dart hidden in my telephoto lens, Jake went for arsenic in the mineral water, a classic. Funny thing is, the water was already poisoned with cyanide...

Here are the girls!

This weekend we will be heading down to Boston for a temple trip...and a Cheesecake Factory run.

We are so bad.

And for those who are wondering, yes, life is still crazy here at the SOROHO.

nobody knows where our landlord is. word on the street is she isn't coming back.

AND, apparently gravity goes up here.

it's beyond me.

(if you can't see what's in the picture, there is a giant spike sticking out of our ice cube that was just sitting upright in a tray. the spike was over an inch long.)

always an adventure up here in vermont! and for the most part, we are down for it.

Oh, Shenandoah

JAKE- It ends, it ends, finally it ends. Thank you to everyone who made this memoir possible. Also, thank you for reading. It was my pleasure to mildly entertain you for a few minutes. Enjoy the close.

Haven’t We Met?

Senior year was a lonely time for me. I had school during the day and then it was over to Christy’s apartment during the evenings. Weekends I worked at the theater, with Christy of course, and then it all started over on Monday. Christy talked about moving into her parent’s house when they moved out of it soon. Oh no, what is going on with me? I can’t really be in this situation. We soon broke up and I was on to some other girl with slightly less obligations attached to her. I was not feeling any better.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Baggage Man said as we headed for the side exit of the school. The rarely used gem was perfect for skipping out on the day’s last class and going home early.

“Nothing matters any more Baggage Man, it doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he said with a smile.

“I could do anything man, I don’t care, nobody cares,” I said.

“Okaaay,” He laughed. I grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall on the way out the door. BM smiled as he watched me while we walked.

“Nothing matters, lalala,” I said. I yanked the pin out and pointed the hose at the bare field in front of the parking lot. A fine dust whooshed out of the fire extinguisher as I squeezed the trigger. I sprayed left and right until nothing else came out and finished by throwing the thing at the brick wall on the West side of the school. Some kids had stopped and starred, BM and I continued to my car in the parking lot. We did not say anything.

I was not considering consequences for my actions when I went to school the next day. In fact, the first two hours of the day went rather well. It was on my way to my favorite class, Broomball, that I got stopped and asked to join the school counselor in her office.

“Hello, Jacob, how are you?” She smiled and acted overly polite. I squirmed in my chair.

“I’m well.”

“Really, have you been alright lately, or feeling a little down?”

“I think all of us, at times, feel like we aren’t quite right,” I said. It continued like this for a few minutes. I must have impressed her because at one point she broke from whatever standard operating procedure manual that she was using and said, “You are kind of a poet, aren’t you?”

I said nothing. “What would make you happy, Jacob?”

“Well, I would like to go to my next class.”

“Oh no, that’s not possible, Jacob.” It was then that I noticed the two police officers in the doorway, more or less blocking off any getaway attempt. But I had no intention of running, instead I cried. They told me I needed to go to the emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation. I asked through sobs if my mom could take me instead of an ambulance. They reluctantly consented though I heard later that they were so worried about me being a flight risk that they shut the school down, no one in, no one out, until they got me out of the counselor’s office and off the premises.

My mom was understanding and not upset. The car ride to the hospital was quiet, mostly. After a few hours in the ER I spoke with a psychiatrist for a few moments after which I was free to leave with a prescription for anti-depressants in my hand. That was it, back to school I go. Back to life. I guess the answer to what I was feeling was written on that small piece of paper. How convenient.

No one really talked to me after that, except my closest friends. I suppose word gets around a school like this pretty fast. There I sat, on the Freak chairs in my oversized black jacket. My fifteen minutes of fame were over as I sat and stared, sedated. I looked to my left and caught a glance of Lindsay walking down the hall, headed, no doubt, to talk to her friends at the senior chairs. I burned for her, I absolutely burned. She so much idealized everything that was right: normal relationships, normal friends, normal feelings. I barely saw her these days and if we passed each other she did not look.

Now, I wonder if she would even know my name. If she read this, would she know that it was me who authored it. The building I built for her in my mind was empty. Only me, sitting in the middle of a concrete room, in a chair labeled “Freak,” staring straight ahead. The building I built for her was empty.

Aglio e Olio

JAKE- Yes, that's right, I hugged a girl. What possibly could have happened next? A little friend, that's what. Didn't see that coming.

Cuddling in the Afterglow

After that point, I carried a torch for this girl through the remainder of high school with both hands. We would talk a little in the hallways, smile at each other, we even hugged again. I wanted her so, but nothing was happening. I guess she had put the ball in my court, but all I did was stand there and dribble. Sophomore year passed. My grades were good and I was free to do pretty much whatever I wanted after school. Much of this included video games and dorking around the mall. Junior year followed suit. I thought about Lindsay frequently. It was good to see her, to talk to her on occasion. A nervous smile while we passed was usually all I could muster, whether she looked or not. I even saw her once or twice at the movie theater I worked at.

I met a new girl at the theater, Christy, and after a long time of putting it off, we started dating. I always felt as though there was something pushing me away from her, telling me not to get with her but I did anyway. She was older and I think this was one of the big appeals to dating her for me, though I do not know why now. She was short with a round face. She often wore dull colors and rock band shirts but I know she wanted to be beautiful because she was always bleaching her hair a brighter shade of blonde. Soon she would bare me a child.

I remember the day Aysia was born. I walked into the hospital room after having finally had some time to get something to eat. The lights were low; the room was mostly a dull blue. Christy was still asleep so I made my way to the bench nearest the bed and sat. The doctors gave her an epidural an hour or so ago so she was asleep for the first time since the night previous when she began to have contractions. Actually, now that I think about it, neither of us slept at all last night. Our sleep was interrupted by contractions and a trip we took to this place only to be told it wasn’t time yet and we were sent back. I layed on her bedroom floor for the second time that night staring up at the ceiling while she moaned and cried every couple of minutes. I know it is all about the mother, but I was so alone. A second trip taken a few hours later found us admitted and here, in this room. I was staring again, this time straight ahead as I sat up. As soon as she wakes up she is going to have this baby and it’s all over. I was so alone. She stirred on the bed. “Hi,” she muttered.

She looked good considering. Her bleach blonde hair was tussled around, her eyes a bit cloudy behind that blue mascara. She always wore that blue mascara, even when birthing our child. “How are you feeling?” was the best I could come up with.

More than anything she needed someone to give her comfort and unfortunately I was lousy at doing so. “Ow,” she replied and suddenly it started happening.

Only moments passed until a nurse came in and said “Ok, it’s time,” and then a few more people came in, and then a few more. Every 15 minutes gave way to a new set of specialists inviting themselves in. I held on to Christy’s right leg and pushed back on it.

“Push, push, you are doing good,” urged a nurse or someone.

Machines were beeping “ARGGG!” yelled Christy, her face glazed with sweat.

I followed the somebody’s lead, “Good yeah looks good, push.”

The room was really loud. Beep, “push,” “ARGG,” the shuffle of people. A woman entered the room looking rather sure of herself. She was assisted in putting on a pair of gloves and a gown and then took a swift position right in front of Christy’s spread legs. She was calm, with an aura that said, “Yeah, I deliver babies.” Aysia’s head emerged and I was hit with a rush of the most repugnant smell I have ever inhaled up to that point in my life and with adrenaline that coursed through me. I was all pumped up.

“Oh, looks good, baby, looks very, very, good!” The doctor looked at me and smiled and I think a couple others in the room got a chuckle out of it as well. The rest of Aysia came out with a sploosh and as the minutes went by, people started slowly leaving the room.

Family came all through the next day, and we eventually took Aysia home. Three days after I turned 18, I was a father. There wasn’t much time to dwell, though; I had to get back to high school.

the look of love

^ that's the look ^

This past weekend Jake and I ventured south to see the American Craft Council show in Baltimore, Maryland. There were over 700 artists there and my mother was one of them. The drive was a little long, but totally worth it. It was nice to just spend time with each other, even if it was only sitting in the car not deciding which CD to put in--I always want Christina or some show and Jake always wants anything else (He did let me listen to one Christina album on the drive home, which was incredibly gracious of him, and we both enjoyed The Lion King on the way down...although we did mutually agree upon skipping "Chow Down").

But we had a great time. Jake is really big into packing lunches for road trips so we had a veritable smorgasbord for the eight hour ride. I made hummus the night before and bought some of our favorite chips to go with it, plus some Pirate Booty (little puffed corn things that barely count as food but cover your fingers with a delicious aged white cheddar powder reminiscent of Cheetos, but without all the preservatives and fats associated with them). Jake made us some sandwiches, and I bought some chocolate- and yogurt-covered pretzels to satisfy our sweet tooth. We also had pudding, almonds, raisins, granola bars, crackers, and string cheese. It was basically Jake's standard lunch, but deliciously mobile.

We ended up traveling through nine states. That's one thing about the Northeast--everything is so bunched up together that it is difficult to take a walk without crossing a state line. We drove through Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and Maryland. We got to stay at my great aunt and uncle's house in Potomac, Maryland, just outside of Washington. It was so nice to get to know them better, and so nice of them to let us stay there. My grandma (Mana) flew in and stayed with Barbara and Ralph too, and my sister drove up from Virginia, so it was a whole family affair. My aunt and uncle and family also drove down from Connecticut and we all went out to dinner after the show on Saturday. It was quite a lovely time.

Here is everyone in my mom's booth. Except April who is taking the picture.

I also bought my first piece of art. Look how happy I am.

Unfortunately, I had to send it home with my parents because we have no place for art in our current habitat. It is beautiful though, and I am excited to be reunited with it in a few months.

On a solid note, Jake and I only have to pay three more months' rent in the SoRoHo. On a bummer note, one of the classes I was planning to take this summer is not being offered anymore. I guess I'll never learn about Urban Planning Law. Sure I'm taking two other planning courses at the same time (did I mention I will have three finals in one day while Jake waits in the car with all of our things because our lease will have run out? I guess that's for another blog...) but I was looking forward to drowning in planning-related studies.

For those of you reading this blog and planning on going to law school, don't take Administrative Law. It just blows. Hard. It wouldn't be so bad if I had had a year of Constitutional Law under my belt, but just being thrown into this constitution-heavy class is seriously bringing me down. It was not helped by the fact that I got called on in class for the first time this semester and just didn't know the answer to the question. It wasn't that I didn't read, because I did, it was because the specific case the professor was asking questions about had four parts: Administrative Hearing, Circuit Court, Supreme Court, back to Circuit Court, then eventually remanded back to the agency, and I just got lost and wasn't sure which ruling was which. What made it worse was that the professor, instead of saying something comforting, said "If you're not prepared, just tell me to pass it on."

IT WAS AWFUL.

I was so bummed for the rest of the day.

Anyway, Jake and I had a great time in Baltimore, and we would love to do it again...

as long as Jake let's me listen to a little Christina.

Im not a witch, Im not a witch

JAKE- Oh good, the story continues. It turns out that this will actually not be the final draft of my memoir. The teacher has pulled the old Kansas City Shuffle on us students and I will be required to do a rewrite of my final draft to make an even better final final draft. Didn't see that coming. If you, gentle reader, have any advice for me, hey, let me know. Anyway, here is section three of five.

Climax

“This is the one!” Baggage Man said with a giggle in his voice. He had a slight build, unkempt hair that would later give way to dreadlocks, and pale white skin. His real name was Chris but our group of friends called him Baggage Man for reasons that have become obscured over time.

“No way, dude, it’s orange,” I replied.

“Orange is fresh. I’m taking it,” and with that he began to unspool the chain from the industrial size storage winder.

“Oh look at this!” I said. I grabbed hold of the oversized silver chain. It was heavy in my hand. “This is definitely my style.”

The hardware store wasn’t so busy at this point in the early evening, but nonetheless I wondered what the cashier would think of two kids buying a length of industrial chain each. We strapped on our rollerblades outside of the Home Depot and made a beeline for BM’s house. In his room we used a few tools and whatever crude methods we could think of to attach these newly acquired accessories to our wallets and then to our belt loops.

“I got it,” I said and stood up to check out how it looked. My pants almost dropped right to my ankles.

“Whoa,” we both said and then just laughed.

The chain was four or five pounds pulling hard on the right side of my jeans. With only a minor belt adjustment I was suddenly glowing with pride. Baggage Man got his attached too. His hung down to around his ankles, mine to just above my knee. “Let’s sport ‘em,” we decided, and it was back out to the town on our rollerblades.

We must have looked like quite the spectacle, trying to rollerblade with our giant new wallet-chains bearing us down. It felt good though. We were different, we were weird, and were we wearing our new chains to school? Absolutely.

The first couple of days were pretty fun. Everyone looked. Some loved them, some hated them, but after a week or so we were old news again. We became a novelty really, good for the occasional laugh when we would be walking down a quiet hallway with students all in their classrooms. The clinking and clanking when either of us was walking sounded something like Jacob Marley coming to haunt old Scrooge. Needless to say we couldn’t sneak up on anyone. Freshmen year continued to float by. I heard from Tia that Lindsay liked that I said goodbye to her that one day, but other than that I hadn’t heard much about her or put too much thought into it.

As class schedules changed with the new semester, I began to see more of this Lindsay girl in the hallways and such. I would glance now and then. Then glances became looks. We would smile in passing. I started to wonder about her, what she liked, was she still into me. I wondered what she thought about my chain. The more times I saw her the more she would change. Her lips got redder. Her hair was long, dark, and beautiful. Her face was simple and lovely. What was going on with me? None of my other female possibilities appealed to me this way. I began hoping I would see her at a certain time of the day. “Ok third period is over, now I head toward math and she should be coming… yes there she is, oh, she looks nice today…huh,” and things like that. It was a casual sort of feeling. There was no longing, but I was happy to see her. To say hi like we were friends or something. Well maybe casual is too light. There was something there, very real, yet indefinable. Either way, this spark would soon burn, the first time we touched.

I was wearing my oversized black jacket. It was late winter in Minnesota. I was adorned in the usual baggy black t-shirt and black cargo pant. My black hair was a mat on my head and the only thing pulling me through this day was the caffeine-infused root beer I gripped in my right hand. The bell rang. I pulled myself out of my chair. “One more class,” I thought to myself.

The school day ended with English class. Not a favorite of mine, but I do like the fact that it is so close to the front doors of the school. I began shuffling to the classroom through the overcrowded hallway. Rubbing shoulders and bumping into people was nothing new here. We were packed in the skinny hallway puttering along slowly in either direction like at some droll rock concert. I thought about my plans after English: stop by the freak chairs (to which I had been cordially invited by my fellow misfits, could it have had anything to do with my wallet-chain?), hook up with BM, and head to the bus to roll to his house for video games and oatmeal pies, nice. Would we be playing Hitman or… suddenly there was a break in the student traffic, I stepped into a hole of free space to my right and coming right at me was Lindsay.

It was so natural, so easy, like we had rehearsed it or something. We each opened arms and she came right into me. I held her. I held her. There is a piece of music which I consider almost perfect. It is Luciano Povarotti and Joan Sutherland singing Bella Figlia Dell’amore from Verdi’s Rigaletto performed in London. It is so crisp, so beautiful, absolute perfection. This blows that away. That is not even in the same atmosphere as what is happening right now. What is happening right now absolutely has stunned me. We were gently swaying back and forth and turning 180 degrees. No words were spoken. No words, oh no. Say something! If for once in your life you can come out of your shell. If for once you can overcome this debilitating shyness, this thing that is so cleverly masked by this giant chain, this aloof attitude. If for once in your life you could muster the courage to say something, to do something, do it now! “I don’t want to let you go,” I whispered, yet loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the hallway full of rushing students next to us.

Yes! Yes! You said something, and it was good, too. Wait; was that coming on too strong? Oh who cares, you said something! And it was true, too. Truest words you ever spoke. For at that moment surely, if nothing else in the world was true, I without a doubt did not want to let her go. “I’ll be late for class,” she said quietly, sweetly.

She turned away and continued down the hallway. We parted with arms outstretched, the very last thing to touch being the tips of our fingers on our outstretched arms. I stood there for a moment and then proceeded to join back into the flow of students, headed toward my English class. You could not have removed smile from my face for anything.

Over Under Around and Through

JAKE- Are you riveted yet? Well, her comes chapter 2 for you. This is a short little section, but it sets up the rest of the story.

Foreplay

It was early in freshmen year that I met a girl. I was just settling in, maybe the third week or so of classes. I had carried over a few friends from middle school and I was finding myself. I walked out of math class to greet a familiar face. Tia was there and she was more excited that usual.

“Hi, Lennon!” Oh, yes Lennon. The nickname originated in middle school for a reason I don’t remember now (nothing to do with John though). “There is this girl that likes you; I want you to meet her.”

I just smiled and let out a laugh that was mostly air. Frankly this was nothing new. Freshmen year I guess I was cute or mysterious, something that attracted a few ladies to me and back in those days they did not hold things back, they let you know. Tia snatched me by the arm and dragged me along.

“Her name is Lindsay,” is the only preface she gave me to the meeting. We muddled past kids in an overcrowded hallway before we reached a group of Tia’s friends standing in a circle and talking outside the door of their next class.

“Hi guys this is Jake,” she said. The introduction was generally for all but was really directed at Lindsay. I said nothing. This also was nothing new. I was quiet and shy. A black baseball hat flipped backwards on my head was standard attire, so was a black t-shirt. The group of friends continued to gab at each other until the bell rang for the next class to start. I looked at Lindsay. Exceptionally beautiful she was not. She had small features on an otherwise plain face. Her hair was dark and somewhat scraggly and hung down to her shoulders. She was skinny, plain, and tall for a girl. She smiled nervously at her friends and only for a moment at me while they all finished talking. I don’t think this little meeting was her idea. I followed Tia into the door of the classroom. She took her seat at the front of the class.

“What do you think?” she whispered. Lindsay sat in the back of the class. They were friends I guess but not good enough to sit next to each other.

“About what?” was my brilliant response.

“Whatever, Lennon,” she said. Truth is I had met a lot of girls in ways similar to this so far in my young high school career, and many of them were more worthy of report than this one. The bell rang for class to start and as I walked toward the door I made no movement to even acknowledge Lindsay. This was my usual MO. Ignore them because goodness knows I am to shy to talk to them anyway. But before I walked out the door, something happened. I walked up behind Lindsay sitting in her chair on the back row ready for class to start, I leaned in near to her and said “Bye, Lindsay.”

“Bye,” she said sweetly as she could with being half startled and caught by surprise. Then I stood back up straight, and walked out of the room. I hadn’t even done this to the girls that I found attractive that expressed interest in me. What just happened? How had I summoned the courage to utter this simple goodbye? “Whoa,” I thought, “I’ve never done that before.”