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When I'm not here, you may find me wandering the pages below. (If I'm a regular visitor to your site and I've left your link off or mislinked to you, please let me know! And likewise, if you've blogrolled me, please check that my link is updated: thisroamanticlife.blogspot.com. The extra (a) makes all the difference!)

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Body: in sickness and in health

I won't lie; this body and I have had our issues with each other for many years. Body image -- sure. Physical and mental overextension -- comes with being a Type A kind of girl. I still struggle with these things, so they show up from time to time in my writing.

More recently, illness, pure but not simple, has added itself to the mix in a multi-system sort of way. And the challenges in figuring out exactly what's gone wrong are many. As problems have revealed themselves in the last few years, beginning with reactive hypoglycemia in late 2008, I've documented them here, partly to gain a little clarity on managing complex conditions but mostly to give voice to vulnerabilities I feel but don't normally share with anyone face to face. Better out than in, they say, right? (Oh yes, humor is one way I deal.)

The links below cover the different angles I've examined (and from which I've been examined) within that experience.

Travel: neither here nor there

When the person you're married to lives two time zones away, you log a fair number of frequent flier miles. And if you blog about commuter relationships, you log quite a few posts en route too.

Since we're no longer in separate places, I blog less often from airports. But we do travel -- together now! -- which is much more fun to write about. So in addition to thoughts on our years of commuting, the links below cover the places we've been as a pair and, in some cases, the adventures that have happened on the way.

Writing: the long and short of it

Why do I do it? Good question. Maybe it's not so much that I like to write but that I have to write, even when the words refuse to stick to the page. Believe me, I've tried doing other things like majoring in biochemistry (freshman fall, many semesters ago). Within a year, I'd switched to English with a concentration in creative writing and wasn't looking back.

After graduating, I taught English for a few years and then worked as an editor, which I still do freelance. In 2007, I applied and got into an MFA program at a place I like to call Little U. on the Prairie. I finished my degree in 2011 and have been balancing tutoring and writing on my own ever since.

The following links cover the writing I've done about writing: process, content, obstacles, you name it. It's not always pretty. But some part of me loves it, even when it's hard. And this is the result.

Heart: family and friends

I'd have a hard time explaining who I am without being able to talk about the family I grew up in as well as the people I've met beyond its bounds. But even with such context, it's not easy! In the simplest terms, I'm a first-generation Asian-American who has spent most of this life caught between cultures. That, of course, doesn't even begin to describe what I mean to, but there's my first stab at the heart of it all.

That's what this group of posts is reserved for -- heart. The essential parts of my life whose influences I carry with me, for better or worse. The links below cover what I've written as I've learned how these forces work within me, for me, against me, in spite of me. They anchor me even as they change me, and they keep life interesting.

Recommended reading

What do I do when there's too much on my mind and my words won't stick to the page? I escape into someone else's thoughts. Below is a collection of books and articles that have been sources of information, inspiration, and occasional insight for my own work.

Monday, April 27, 2009

The perfect storm

I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late on Saturday.

I've been having trouble getting properly tired at my usual bedtime in the last ten days or so partly because of all the excitement about the next few weeks and also because my sugar's been screwy. I've been getting highs and lows, probably because of the increase in stress (good and bad), and that means conking out involuntarily in the middle of the day on the couch. Carb-induced naps mean not being sleepy when it's time to wind down at the end of the day.

Saturday was one of those evenings -- couldn't seem to shut off my brain, so I packed more stuff just to be productive (grading and writing weren't happening either). As a result, I got up a little later than usual on Sunday. Had breakfast, read the news online. My parents-in-law were planning to meet me for dinner, so I figured I'd try to get work done during the day. Took a stab at an introduction for my essay, didn't seem to be making headway, so I started cleaning up the living room of packing debris so the in-laws would be able to sit down. Figured I'd fit a workout in after lunch and then a shower before one last stint of grading while waiting for them to arrive.

Suddenly, I heard a light series of knocks on my apartment door. At first I thought I was imagining things, but it lasted too long to be someone accidentally bumping into the wall with a bag of groceries on the way up the stairs. I peered through the peephole, figuring it was some door-to-door solicitor -- and was appalled to find my mother-in-law on the other side.

There I was, still in pajamas, hair going in four different directions, face unwashed, bags of garbage sitting on the floor by my feet. Talk about getting caught at a bad time! Within a few sentences of awkward conversation, I figured out that when my mother-in-law says dinner, she means lunch. But only on Sundays. Oh, Midwestern semantics! Why, I ask, would she use such a designation when making time-sensitive arrangements with someone who clearly didn't grow up in a Midwestern family?

I don't think I've been quite that embarrassed in a long time. To make matters worse, my mother-in-law insisted that she'd been calling and calling but that I hadn't picked up my phone (which, on my end, had been perfectly silent all morning). Turns out that she had my old phone number in her cell -- which I had disconnected in 2005. She doesn't know how to program contacts, so one of D's brothers had put my old information in a long time ago, and she'd never changed it.

Once I got over my initial shock and counted to ten so I wouldn't say something I'd regret, I was able to invite her inside. My father-in-law appeared then (he'd been parking the car) and we quickly reconfigured our plans. They had intended to pick up their spare table and chairs, which I had been borrowing during my time at school, so they worked on fitting those things into their car while I took a very quick shower. Then we headed out for sushi and everything was fine.

Except I'm still rattled about the whole getting-caught-by-the-in-laws-in-pajamas-after-noon-in-the-midst-of-a-small-disaster-site thing. I know D's parents don't think I'm a bum, and I had absolutely valid reasons for putting off showering till later (cleaning, exercise), but damn it, I still feel all squirmy thinking about the experience.

To take my mind off all this, I'm going to post a picture of my workspace. I'm taking down the art and the bulletin board today and wrapping everything for safe shipment, so the little nook I've called my creative center for two years is going away. I guess in the last few months I haven't been doing much there -- I do better writing curled up on the couch, I've found -- but the pictures and cards I've put up are visible from there too, and they give me good things to think about. The next time I see them will be when D and I hang them in our new home, which is now officially ours; D got the keys last Thursday.

There, that's a much better thought. More on the house very, very soon -- we'll be starting the moving process from the Seattle apartment this weekend!

Monday, April 20, 2009

Inching along

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

It is exactly 30 days until I leave, and now that I've started the business of getting ready to move, my brain won't stop thinking about it! Unfortunately, the boxes I packed this weekend aren't helping matters. They're stacked in the living room, all ready to go, just looking at me and asking "Is it time yet?" I swear, it's like they have puppy-dog eyes.

I did intend to start packing this early because (a) I need to figure out how many more boxes to order from the moving company since the ones I saved from the move here won't be enough and (b) I just received another 39 student papers last night that will be eating my time for the next week or so. Oh, also (c) I'm going to Seattle in two weeks, so I'll lose a weekend for packing there, and (d) I have a giant research paper due the week before the movers are scheduled to load. Never mind (e) the final exams I'll be grading during that same time period.

So I am completely justified in starting the process now, even if it's upping the anticipation to nearly unbearable levels.

So far, the only things I can pack are books I won't need immediate access to in the next two months -- and there are a ton of them, three bookcases full. Also binders of class notes and the contents of my filing cabinet. Total number of boxes so far: 6. I think I'm going to put the count in the sidebar just to have something to mark progress. Time, as you can tell, still isn't creeping any faster for me than when I last posted.

What is progressing at an amazing rate is my new pet plant from D's parents:


When we brought him home on Easter Sunday, his bud was still halfway concealed within the top of the bulb. Here we are a week later, and he's nearly three bud-lengths tall! How do I know he's a he, you're wondering? Well, he came with a name tag:


I know, I know, it's just some breeder's designation, but I think Ludwig is a great name for an amaryllis.

In other news, the people on Craigslist are driving me slightly nuts, inquiring about my furniture and telling me they want to buy something but ultimately flaking out. Don't say you're coming to check out an item and then change your mind without telling me! Just an e-mail that you're having second thoughts would be nice. As it is, I'm already preoccupied enough with scheduling without needing to think I have to make time for you to drop by only to have you turn incommunicado.

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Hauling it

A perk of being tied to your computer for a weekend of grading: you can sell your furniture while you're at it.

While D was here, we decided what we wanted to put on Craigslist so we wouldn't have to make room for it in our new place. There wasn't too much, but most of the items were bulky: a futon, a giant TV hutch, a desk, an ironing board. Monday morning, after I dropped him off at the airport -- for the last time! -- I took pictures of everything and wrote up some ads. By lunch, the e-mails started appearing.

The futon drew the most attention. That sold right away, and the buyer came over the same evening to pick it up. I was a little sad to see it go as it's the first piece of furniture I bought with my own money when I first moved to New York just under six years ago. But we are hoping to upgrade to a nice armchair or chaise, so it was time to part ways.

There's been some interest in the desk too, but it's still here. If it doesn't sell before I move, it's okay. What I do want to unload, though, is that TV hutch. We really won't have a place for it as the living room in our new house has a built-in alcove for electronics. Plan B, if that doesn't sell, is to take it to a local consignment store. It'll be quite a project to move it, but I have a friend with a trailer hitch. We just have to get the thing out the door.

Sigh. I'm antsy. So close to being able to start the moving process (packing, cleaning, etc.), but there's still too much living that has to take place in this apartment. D did wash all the windows (not an easy task since all the screens were installed backwards and had to be wrestled out!), but the interior scrub-down will obviously have to wait, especially in the kitchen. I guess I can tackle the oven this weekend and just not use it from here on out -- not difficult since I'm more of a soup and stew person when I'm cooking only for me. What else can I take care of? How about the half-bathroom? I'll just stop using that too ...

Can you tell that I really can't wait to get out of here?

Friday, April 10, 2009

Grading jail


Yes, that's where I must put myself this weekend now that last week's work crunch for my own classes is past. Sigh. Letting the grading go during that crunch was absolutely necessary, so I have no regrets per se, but these papers -- oh, these papers. I've been working really hard to teach my students how to formulate arguments and sustain them throughout an extended piece of writing, but it seems they need a great deal more practice. What I'm reading from them, even after an in-class workshop and mandatory revision, is not up to snuff yet.

Positive feedback is so important to provide while you're trying to help students see where they need to direct their attention. I do my best to point out at least one thing each student has done well when I make comments on papers -- I'm running a bit thin on enthusiasm at this point in the semester, though! Frequent breaks, frequent breaks; they're all that will sustain me now. I find that after about six mediocre papers (and this is putting it generously), I can't find positive things to say on the seventh.

Well, this break is over. And I'm off to get D from the airport, which will hopefully clear my head enough for another round of grading before bedtime.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Sleeting on my parade

I was so excited that D would be visiting this weekend.

It's his last trip to Little U. on the Prairie, so we were going to do some pre-move prep around the apartment and just enjoy a quiet few days together while I plowed through my small mountain of work. Cook a little, talk a little, curl up on the couch with a movie, whatever.

And then we found out that Sunday is Easter.

My family doesn't celebrate the holiday, but his does, and they're within driving distance. So this means we'll be getting up super early Sunday morning to make the trip for brunch at his parents' place and then we'll drive back in the afternoon. Don't get me wrong; D's folks are fine people, but April is a really stressful month on campus and I am not in the mood to share my much missed other half while I'm already having to put the needs of my students and my classwork above my own personal ones. Like getting enough sleep and doing things that are good for my mental health. So forgive me if I'm feeling a bit unenthusiastic about giving up part of what was supposed to be "just us" time?

Grrrr, I hate feeling selfish.

D and I have decided that it's okay for me to hole up, before the actual Easter meal, in a quiet place to work once we get to his parents' house, but it's still really frustrating to be unable to try to make the best of the situation by at least enjoying time with the people we're visiting. But staying on campus is equally if not more unappealing. Being left out, intentional or otherwise, feels sad -- hasn't changed since the earliest memories I have about preschool playground politics. So I'm going.

It'd just better not sleet anymore -- another wintry system moved through the area yesterday, and while we didn't get much ice at Little U., roads had to be closed in other parts of the state. What has happened to spring?

At least it seems to be making its way into Seattle. Troubadour Mom sent paperwhite bulbs to us that we planted over spring break. In two weeks, their stems have shot up quite quickly. They should be ready to bloom in a few more, with the exception of the odd flowers that have already opened:


We're not sure what other bulb got mixed in with the shipment, but there you go. We'll take whatever spring we can get! D reports that our irises are perking up in the warm weather too (they've been wintering on the balcony of our apartment), so stay tuned for updates on Ralph, Tessa, Carmen, and Lolita. Can't wait to plant them when we get to our new home ...

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Have salt, will travel

Airports. Not the best places to sleep, but in terms of providing basic office services, they're not bad.

I got stranded in Dallas on Friday because of the blizzard that settled over the Texas panhandle, home of Troubadour Mom and Dad (Troubadour Mom had a birthday last week, so it was a nice reason to visit):

Image courtesy of weather.com

I expected flights to be canceled, given the numerous warnings the National Weather Service was putting out days in advance about whiteout conditions, so I packed a good chunk of work and enough cereal to cover me for two extra breakfasts (that's the one meal that's more difficult to get from airport vendors in a form that will fit my dietary restrictions).

Around the time I was finishing lunch, D called me to say our realtor needed my signature on the post-inspection repairs agreed to by the seller of our house -- preferably before the weekend. Hmm, what to do? I knew I could get to my e-mail for the documents, but where was I going to find a printer and a fax machine without being a member of any airline's elite travelers' club (with the private lounges and conference rooms for business executives on the go)?

Well, it turns out that the people who work at the information kiosks scattered around DFW's terminals have access to their own office technology. For free. They set me up with everything I needed, and within an hour of D's call, he had the forms in hand to add his own signature to.

I wish I could say the rest of my day was as productive. I nodded off more than I graded while sitting in the airport's low-slung faux-leather chairs -- I'd only had three hours of sleep on the previous night -- and by the time the last flight out was scrubbed, all I wanted was a good workout, some dinner, and a real bed. I got all of that at a hotel a few miles away after getting tickets for the next morning.

Saturday, 6 a.m.: first three flights of the day to Panhandle canceled. Grrrr.

Being slightly better rested, I plopped myself down by a plug in a wall (I've gotten pretty good at spotting these in airports since acquiring my laptop) and started editing my thesis prospectus -- it had been hanging over my head since before spring break, which is when I wrote the first draft. I also got to know the large herd of travelers also hoping to get to Panhandle. The first plane cleared to go was around 2 p.m., so we wandered in a pack thereafter, peeling off a few at a time whenever standby seats were available on flights to points northwest. I was eighteenth on the list, so I did quite a bit of wandering, but it allowed me to take breaks between editing sessions. We'd install ourselves at a gate, wait for it to board, and if we didn't get seats, we'd pack up and move on en masse to the gate for the next departure.

I finally landed in Panhandle shortly before 6 p.m., just in time for a belated birthday dinner. After cake (a sliver for me), I gave Mom the gift I'd been carrying with me for two days:


She loved it.

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Monday, April 27, 2009

The perfect storm

I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late on Saturday.

I've been having trouble getting properly tired at my usual bedtime in the last ten days or so partly because of all the excitement about the next few weeks and also because my sugar's been screwy. I've been getting highs and lows, probably because of the increase in stress (good and bad), and that means conking out involuntarily in the middle of the day on the couch. Carb-induced naps mean not being sleepy when it's time to wind down at the end of the day.

Saturday was one of those evenings -- couldn't seem to shut off my brain, so I packed more stuff just to be productive (grading and writing weren't happening either). As a result, I got up a little later than usual on Sunday. Had breakfast, read the news online. My parents-in-law were planning to meet me for dinner, so I figured I'd try to get work done during the day. Took a stab at an introduction for my essay, didn't seem to be making headway, so I started cleaning up the living room of packing debris so the in-laws would be able to sit down. Figured I'd fit a workout in after lunch and then a shower before one last stint of grading while waiting for them to arrive.

Suddenly, I heard a light series of knocks on my apartment door. At first I thought I was imagining things, but it lasted too long to be someone accidentally bumping into the wall with a bag of groceries on the way up the stairs. I peered through the peephole, figuring it was some door-to-door solicitor -- and was appalled to find my mother-in-law on the other side.

There I was, still in pajamas, hair going in four different directions, face unwashed, bags of garbage sitting on the floor by my feet. Talk about getting caught at a bad time! Within a few sentences of awkward conversation, I figured out that when my mother-in-law says dinner, she means lunch. But only on Sundays. Oh, Midwestern semantics! Why, I ask, would she use such a designation when making time-sensitive arrangements with someone who clearly didn't grow up in a Midwestern family?

I don't think I've been quite that embarrassed in a long time. To make matters worse, my mother-in-law insisted that she'd been calling and calling but that I hadn't picked up my phone (which, on my end, had been perfectly silent all morning). Turns out that she had my old phone number in her cell -- which I had disconnected in 2005. She doesn't know how to program contacts, so one of D's brothers had put my old information in a long time ago, and she'd never changed it.

Once I got over my initial shock and counted to ten so I wouldn't say something I'd regret, I was able to invite her inside. My father-in-law appeared then (he'd been parking the car) and we quickly reconfigured our plans. They had intended to pick up their spare table and chairs, which I had been borrowing during my time at school, so they worked on fitting those things into their car while I took a very quick shower. Then we headed out for sushi and everything was fine.

Except I'm still rattled about the whole getting-caught-by-the-in-laws-in-pajamas-after-noon-in-the-midst-of-a-small-disaster-site thing. I know D's parents don't think I'm a bum, and I had absolutely valid reasons for putting off showering till later (cleaning, exercise), but damn it, I still feel all squirmy thinking about the experience.

To take my mind off all this, I'm going to post a picture of my workspace. I'm taking down the art and the bulletin board today and wrapping everything for safe shipment, so the little nook I've called my creative center for two years is going away. I guess in the last few months I haven't been doing much there -- I do better writing curled up on the couch, I've found -- but the pictures and cards I've put up are visible from there too, and they give me good things to think about. The next time I see them will be when D and I hang them in our new home, which is now officially ours; D got the keys last Thursday.

There, that's a much better thought. More on the house very, very soon -- we'll be starting the moving process from the Seattle apartment this weekend!

Monday, April 20, 2009

Inching along

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

It is exactly 30 days until I leave, and now that I've started the business of getting ready to move, my brain won't stop thinking about it! Unfortunately, the boxes I packed this weekend aren't helping matters. They're stacked in the living room, all ready to go, just looking at me and asking "Is it time yet?" I swear, it's like they have puppy-dog eyes.

I did intend to start packing this early because (a) I need to figure out how many more boxes to order from the moving company since the ones I saved from the move here won't be enough and (b) I just received another 39 student papers last night that will be eating my time for the next week or so. Oh, also (c) I'm going to Seattle in two weeks, so I'll lose a weekend for packing there, and (d) I have a giant research paper due the week before the movers are scheduled to load. Never mind (e) the final exams I'll be grading during that same time period.

So I am completely justified in starting the process now, even if it's upping the anticipation to nearly unbearable levels.

So far, the only things I can pack are books I won't need immediate access to in the next two months -- and there are a ton of them, three bookcases full. Also binders of class notes and the contents of my filing cabinet. Total number of boxes so far: 6. I think I'm going to put the count in the sidebar just to have something to mark progress. Time, as you can tell, still isn't creeping any faster for me than when I last posted.

What is progressing at an amazing rate is my new pet plant from D's parents:


When we brought him home on Easter Sunday, his bud was still halfway concealed within the top of the bulb. Here we are a week later, and he's nearly three bud-lengths tall! How do I know he's a he, you're wondering? Well, he came with a name tag:


I know, I know, it's just some breeder's designation, but I think Ludwig is a great name for an amaryllis.

In other news, the people on Craigslist are driving me slightly nuts, inquiring about my furniture and telling me they want to buy something but ultimately flaking out. Don't say you're coming to check out an item and then change your mind without telling me! Just an e-mail that you're having second thoughts would be nice. As it is, I'm already preoccupied enough with scheduling without needing to think I have to make time for you to drop by only to have you turn incommunicado.

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Hauling it

A perk of being tied to your computer for a weekend of grading: you can sell your furniture while you're at it.

While D was here, we decided what we wanted to put on Craigslist so we wouldn't have to make room for it in our new place. There wasn't too much, but most of the items were bulky: a futon, a giant TV hutch, a desk, an ironing board. Monday morning, after I dropped him off at the airport -- for the last time! -- I took pictures of everything and wrote up some ads. By lunch, the e-mails started appearing.

The futon drew the most attention. That sold right away, and the buyer came over the same evening to pick it up. I was a little sad to see it go as it's the first piece of furniture I bought with my own money when I first moved to New York just under six years ago. But we are hoping to upgrade to a nice armchair or chaise, so it was time to part ways.

There's been some interest in the desk too, but it's still here. If it doesn't sell before I move, it's okay. What I do want to unload, though, is that TV hutch. We really won't have a place for it as the living room in our new house has a built-in alcove for electronics. Plan B, if that doesn't sell, is to take it to a local consignment store. It'll be quite a project to move it, but I have a friend with a trailer hitch. We just have to get the thing out the door.

Sigh. I'm antsy. So close to being able to start the moving process (packing, cleaning, etc.), but there's still too much living that has to take place in this apartment. D did wash all the windows (not an easy task since all the screens were installed backwards and had to be wrestled out!), but the interior scrub-down will obviously have to wait, especially in the kitchen. I guess I can tackle the oven this weekend and just not use it from here on out -- not difficult since I'm more of a soup and stew person when I'm cooking only for me. What else can I take care of? How about the half-bathroom? I'll just stop using that too ...

Can you tell that I really can't wait to get out of here?

Friday, April 10, 2009

Grading jail


Yes, that's where I must put myself this weekend now that last week's work crunch for my own classes is past. Sigh. Letting the grading go during that crunch was absolutely necessary, so I have no regrets per se, but these papers -- oh, these papers. I've been working really hard to teach my students how to formulate arguments and sustain them throughout an extended piece of writing, but it seems they need a great deal more practice. What I'm reading from them, even after an in-class workshop and mandatory revision, is not up to snuff yet.

Positive feedback is so important to provide while you're trying to help students see where they need to direct their attention. I do my best to point out at least one thing each student has done well when I make comments on papers -- I'm running a bit thin on enthusiasm at this point in the semester, though! Frequent breaks, frequent breaks; they're all that will sustain me now. I find that after about six mediocre papers (and this is putting it generously), I can't find positive things to say on the seventh.

Well, this break is over. And I'm off to get D from the airport, which will hopefully clear my head enough for another round of grading before bedtime.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Sleeting on my parade

I was so excited that D would be visiting this weekend.

It's his last trip to Little U. on the Prairie, so we were going to do some pre-move prep around the apartment and just enjoy a quiet few days together while I plowed through my small mountain of work. Cook a little, talk a little, curl up on the couch with a movie, whatever.

And then we found out that Sunday is Easter.

My family doesn't celebrate the holiday, but his does, and they're within driving distance. So this means we'll be getting up super early Sunday morning to make the trip for brunch at his parents' place and then we'll drive back in the afternoon. Don't get me wrong; D's folks are fine people, but April is a really stressful month on campus and I am not in the mood to share my much missed other half while I'm already having to put the needs of my students and my classwork above my own personal ones. Like getting enough sleep and doing things that are good for my mental health. So forgive me if I'm feeling a bit unenthusiastic about giving up part of what was supposed to be "just us" time?

Grrrr, I hate feeling selfish.

D and I have decided that it's okay for me to hole up, before the actual Easter meal, in a quiet place to work once we get to his parents' house, but it's still really frustrating to be unable to try to make the best of the situation by at least enjoying time with the people we're visiting. But staying on campus is equally if not more unappealing. Being left out, intentional or otherwise, feels sad -- hasn't changed since the earliest memories I have about preschool playground politics. So I'm going.

It'd just better not sleet anymore -- another wintry system moved through the area yesterday, and while we didn't get much ice at Little U., roads had to be closed in other parts of the state. What has happened to spring?

At least it seems to be making its way into Seattle. Troubadour Mom sent paperwhite bulbs to us that we planted over spring break. In two weeks, their stems have shot up quite quickly. They should be ready to bloom in a few more, with the exception of the odd flowers that have already opened:


We're not sure what other bulb got mixed in with the shipment, but there you go. We'll take whatever spring we can get! D reports that our irises are perking up in the warm weather too (they've been wintering on the balcony of our apartment), so stay tuned for updates on Ralph, Tessa, Carmen, and Lolita. Can't wait to plant them when we get to our new home ...

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Have salt, will travel

Airports. Not the best places to sleep, but in terms of providing basic office services, they're not bad.

I got stranded in Dallas on Friday because of the blizzard that settled over the Texas panhandle, home of Troubadour Mom and Dad (Troubadour Mom had a birthday last week, so it was a nice reason to visit):

Image courtesy of weather.com

I expected flights to be canceled, given the numerous warnings the National Weather Service was putting out days in advance about whiteout conditions, so I packed a good chunk of work and enough cereal to cover me for two extra breakfasts (that's the one meal that's more difficult to get from airport vendors in a form that will fit my dietary restrictions).

Around the time I was finishing lunch, D called me to say our realtor needed my signature on the post-inspection repairs agreed to by the seller of our house -- preferably before the weekend. Hmm, what to do? I knew I could get to my e-mail for the documents, but where was I going to find a printer and a fax machine without being a member of any airline's elite travelers' club (with the private lounges and conference rooms for business executives on the go)?

Well, it turns out that the people who work at the information kiosks scattered around DFW's terminals have access to their own office technology. For free. They set me up with everything I needed, and within an hour of D's call, he had the forms in hand to add his own signature to.

I wish I could say the rest of my day was as productive. I nodded off more than I graded while sitting in the airport's low-slung faux-leather chairs -- I'd only had three hours of sleep on the previous night -- and by the time the last flight out was scrubbed, all I wanted was a good workout, some dinner, and a real bed. I got all of that at a hotel a few miles away after getting tickets for the next morning.

Saturday, 6 a.m.: first three flights of the day to Panhandle canceled. Grrrr.

Being slightly better rested, I plopped myself down by a plug in a wall (I've gotten pretty good at spotting these in airports since acquiring my laptop) and started editing my thesis prospectus -- it had been hanging over my head since before spring break, which is when I wrote the first draft. I also got to know the large herd of travelers also hoping to get to Panhandle. The first plane cleared to go was around 2 p.m., so we wandered in a pack thereafter, peeling off a few at a time whenever standby seats were available on flights to points northwest. I was eighteenth on the list, so I did quite a bit of wandering, but it allowed me to take breaks between editing sessions. We'd install ourselves at a gate, wait for it to board, and if we didn't get seats, we'd pack up and move on en masse to the gate for the next departure.

I finally landed in Panhandle shortly before 6 p.m., just in time for a belated birthday dinner. After cake (a sliver for me), I gave Mom the gift I'd been carrying with me for two days:


She loved it.