Dear Emily, CONGRATS!

Emily Bronte can finally die happy.

Or at least rest in bliss!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Depp and Jolie to play Heathcliff and Cathy in remake of Bronte classic

Wuthering Heights

EXCLUSIVE by ALISON BELLAMY

http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/board/about49266.html

Hollywood megastars Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie are to star in a Yorkshire blockbuster of Wuthering Heights.

Depp, 42, who is a lover of the Bronte's literary works, once said during an interview: "Am I a romantic? I've seen Wuthering Heights 10 times. I'm a romantic."

Why I Can't Write

*

I need my half-and-half to be HEATED before I mix it with the coffee.

Otherwise it just, it just --- well. (Yawn)

This is very distracting.

Lights, Camera, Lipstick

No Carmen today, slipping into my office, putting his feet up on my desk, tapping his pen, asking penetrating questions that leave me banging my head against my desk. In a good way. But still.

Today's person-who-came-racing in is Peggy.

She just appeared in my doorway, announcing that the TV people are coming.

Great! I have lots of friends in TV and film.

I'm all about appearing for a shot here and there, a minor character, a cameo.

A quick quip about the state of the union, Alan Greenspan, the need for government subsidized charm schools. Whatever today's topic is.

Peggy sees my mind race.
She realizes I think she wants advice, not makeup.
The woman is a natural beauty.

Melissa!!! I need LIPSTICK. I NEED Bobbi Brown.

Hmmm. I stand up, point at my chair. I had NO idea today would suddenly become so fun!

Peggy got a full coat of of Brown Lipstick (yes, there is a Bobby Brown lipcolor called Brown. And NO it isn't Brown. It's a nice peachy brownie shade with a hint of shimmer).
Then a dabbling of Sugar lip gloss, a sheer glossy that lightens everything up.

Next step, a bit of bronzer. She looks a bit afraid.

Will it make me orange?

No. It isn't a bronzer-bronzer, it's a "hey you'll look a tiny bit richer if you wear this but no one will be able to figure out why" bronzer. A bit of shimmer. I swirl the brush, rub it on the back of my hand.

Peggy scrunches her nose, looks at my hand, which is inches from her nose.

I can't see anything.

It's that subtle.

Great.

Peggy stands, up, ready for action.

As she walks out the door she looks me over, points at my neck and says "Hey! The pearls."

OK. OK.

I gave her the pearls, triple-wrapping them around her neck so the lowest point hits ABOVE the breasts.

Very important. It's a rookie mistake to have droopie pearls.

Now I feel so naked!

And that's something to write about.

Hooray.

*M

Venezuela is UNDER CONTROL.

*
Tony Robbins really freaks me out.
So I visited his website. Which makes sense in my little world. It does....

Guess what???

*****************************************************************************
Tony Robbins: Peace Negotiator & Humanitarian

Robbins has been selected as Vice Chairman of Health, Education, and Science for the United Nations Research Center for the International Council for Caring Communities (ICCC) NGO. Working with the Organization of American States, the Carter Center, and the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), Robbins has been a member of the team working for a negotiated electoral solution for peace to the strife and conflict that have devastated the Venezuelan people and their economy.
******************************************************************************
Now I can sleep at night.

I mean, maybe all the people in Venezuela will think ALL Americans are like Tony, and just get irritated with us... and... and.... well, I think I know what happens next, but it's CLASSIFIED.

Besides that, the man is 7 feet tall.

He can WRESTLE Chavez for the oil fields!!

I'll totally watch THAT on pay-per-view.

*M

I Wasn't There. It Wasn't Me. I Have an Alibi

From the OH-MY-GAWD, I-am-SOOO-Glad-it-was-someone-else-files....

Museum visitor trips, breaks Chinese vases

FROM CNN.COM

CAMBRIDGE, England (AP) -- A museum visitor shattered three Qing dynasty Chinese vases when he tripped on his shoelace, stumbled down a stairway and brought the vases crashing to the floor, officials said Monday. The three vases, dating from the late 17th or early 18th century, had been donated to The Fitzwilliam Museum in the university city of Cambridge in 1948, and were among its best-known artifacts. They had been sitting proudly on the window sill beside the staircase for 40 years.
"It was a most unfortunate and regrettable accident, but we are glad that the visitor involved was able to leave the museum unharmed," said Duncan Robinson, the Fitzwilliam's director.
The museum declined to identify the man who had tripped on a loose shoelace Wednesday. Asked about the porcelain vases, Margaret Greeves, the museum's assistant director, said: "They are in very, very small pieces, but we are determined to put them back together."
The museum declined to say what the vases were worth.

I*don't*like*you*in*that*way

*


Whether I do, or don't, isn't the subject here.

Find out what has me laughing, today ---

Confidential to VG

Dear VG
-----------------------------------------------
No, I won't tell you who she is.

My brother doesn't want me to write about him EITHER.

Did I tell you that? He specifically said last night DON'T WRITE ABOUT ME. So I'm NOT.

But guess what? He knows VG. He just doesn't know she published a book.

And no, I won't tell you about her book here, either.

Geez!!!
------------------------------------------------
Let's get it straight. Your first book was not only published, but it won awards. Amazing.

Your next book -- the one you're pacing around, readying yourself for -- has the potential to take your career to an even higher level.

Writing it will require fearless introspection. Which you will do -- of course. You have a talent for that. I think that it's the pieces of your soul that you almost magically drop like breadcrumbs into your writing that makes the readers trust you, and walk next to you through the book's journey.

And THAT'S why I suggested you blog.

Blogging is great exercise to keep your mind and your heart warm.

It's gotten me into the habit of bravely pacing my life and writing about what I see.

There are days when it feels like I'm systematically peeling parts off of my heart out, then holding the bits and ends up to the light.

Sure, there are days (like today) when I feel so completely empty, I wonder if there is a single thing to say.

I root around, shake my brain until I hear something rattle.

Viola, something funny. Or sad. Or thoughful. Another piece of me.

It doesn't matter what you call your blog. Just write.

Write everyday, throw your words out there for people to read, ignore, skim, masticate.

Because, VG, I can't wait to read MORE of what YOU have to say.

********************************************************************************
With all of that said, I hearby declare that the first round of Margaritas in Austin is on YOU.

January 30: Today's SPECIAL word

Fungible.

Don't EVEN ask me why, but I'm all over this word today.

DEFINITION: Something that is exchangeable or substitutable. Comes from Medieval Latin fungibilis, from Latin fungi (vice), "to perform (in place of)."

See brilliant column (January 18) on whether paralegals being fungible. http://anonymouslawyer.blogspot.com/

January 28: Today's Secret #1

My kids have great vocabularies.

Zack was in the middle of playing, then announced, "I want to take a nap, dammit."

So I put him to bed.

I know I should be more upset about the cursing (remember, he got it from his father. I don't say dammit. You know that. I tell people to... oh nevermind) but I'm not.

Seriously -- how many TODDLERS can use a curse word CORRECTLY?

I say--> reward good behavior.

Cookies for everyone!

Introspection

Zoe recently discovered the Brady Bunch, so almost everyday I've been watching tivo'd reruns of the show.

It just dawned on me that when I was growing up, Marcia Brady was the only feminist role model that I had.

Realizing that explains a lot.

Almost everything, actually.

It Takes a Village to Raise a Crazy Person

So there was peace for a few minutes.

Zoe disappeared for a wardrobe change. While in her room, she was temporarily mesmerized by the Disney Channel.

I wrote for awhile, cleaned the kitchen, stared into space. The usual weekend stuff.

About an hour later, she reappeared in super cute outfit -- a short plaid short skirt, pink collared shirt, white shoes, pink pantyhose, white purse, white headband.

I go to High School. I'm a teenager. She announced more to the sofa than to me.

Wow. I guess you do. (Playing along with it sometimes speeds it all along --)

She spun a few times, swinging her purse.
Then frowned, grimaced, and crossed her arms.

Zoe Maria! What was that about? Are you being rude?

No. She looked surprised and uncrossed her arms -- an actress stepping out of character.
I'm POPULAR.

She looked at me like I was crazy, spun again and marched back to her room.

Back to the Disney Channel World.

It takes a village --

January 28: Today's Secret #2

I slept in today & didn't go to the coffeeshop to write. No, sleeping in -- and facing small children BEFORE I have coffee and quiet time -- isn't worth it. I'd rather get dressed, get out, accomplish something, THEN come back and be nice to everyone.

No sweat.
I am still on track to have it done for the February 27 deadline, Camp Bombshell.

I have the Best LIFE EVER!

Someone just sent me this. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Thanks???

I LOVE my life. There is SO much to laugh about!

Needed: Straight Man

One of the hardest topics for me to teach without laughing is Horatio Alger.

If you can't figure out why, then, well, then..... nevermind.

Awful-est Things, in NO Particular Order

1. People of any age – and gender -- wearing pants that are so tight that they create muffin-top spillage over the top.

2. Trying to make conversation with someone who has dirt (eyebrow dandruff?) on their glasses.

3. Seeing a person’s name tattooed across her lower back. Actually, that’s two awful things, because that means she’s wearing an outfit that bares too much skin for daytime. Why? Why? I can only IMAGINE why. Awful. Tsk-tsk.

4. Mothers and pre-teen daughters wearing matching floral-print dresses. And bows. Or headbands. Grow up.

5. Pantyhose with open-toed shoes ...unless you buy the special open-toed pantyhose… but if your outfit is casual enough to go open-toed, it’s too casual for pantyhose. HINT: Shave your legs, then put some nice shimmery cream on them. If your legs are too white – or too whatever – to go without pantyhose, then odds are your toenails aren’t in “show us off” shape either. Just toss on some jeans, then, OK?

6. Seeing someone pull some of their hair weave/extensions out and lay them on the table. Near food. Ewwwww.

7. People wearing skirts – and pants – that hit them several inches ABOVE their natural waistline. Frumpy.

8. One-word-response emails. (Better than NO response. Seriously.)

9. Scowly faces, Eeyore attitudes, bitterness

10. Dirty fingernails

11. Neck tattoos

12. Lip piercings

13. Smoker’s breath

Guilty Pleasures #4

1) Limewire

2) Michael Buble – Save the Last Dance for Me

3) 2nd, 3rd ,4th cups of coffee.... not letting the cup every get empty or cold.

4) Wireless internet at home… hiding (what’s a synonym for hiding? I'll change that word when I revise this, which I always do. I'm a world-class reviser.) in the bathroom writing, publishing to the blog and blasting music in my own personal party.

5) Steak fajitas. Steak ANYTHING. Meat, in general.

6) Tickling my son on his neck, having him giggle, pull away, then demand MORE

7) Voice mail.

8) EXTRA salty pretzels. Yum.

And More Princess Stuff

So I call to RSVP for the party on Sunday.

You know, the one whose invitation is a glass slipper, and is addressed to "Princess Zoe" from "Princess Bridget."

Dear husband asks what we should get Bridget.

I respond, *tired* of being the second-smartest-person-know, "Well, I think the invitation says a lot... maybe Princess Shoes, a Princess Book, a Princess Crown...."

He nods his head, distracted.

So I continue, "....Princess Vibrator."

There.
I have his attention.

So I walk away.

*

Brilliant

So -- Zoe is invited to a party this Sunday. Good, because it's Zack's birthday and now -- well, for some reason, it just seems like a good thing. Anyway.

I asked Zoe if I can take her to the party.

Sure Mom.

Aren't you worried I'll dance and sing and embarass you?

No. (Pause) You'll probably embarass me. (Pause) But that's why I love you.

She's brilliant.

I'm changing my position on renewing her contract.

Guilty Pleasures #3

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

1) Creme brulee coffee. (Can you smell my office from where you are? Should I open a window?)

2) Fat-free half & half (mind boggling, truly mind boggling).

3) Finding (and affording, and buying) the perfect bra... in 5 colors.

4) Finding tampons when you need them, and having them stay put and hidden the rest of the time.

5) Mr. Mustard spicy mustard. Eye-watering.

6) Textbook reps that send books you REALLY need, quickly.

7) Sharpie pens in several colors. And sizes. Especially the ones that go CLICK.

8) Flowers in the dashboard vase of my car.

9) The smell of bleach. And lysol. Both, if possible (*sigh*)

10) Warm gloves on a cold day.

11) The relief of just iving up on playing my MP3 player in the car - it isn't going to work. So I'll just enjoy the quiet.

12) Friendships that mature, slowly. For years.

13) Song: "I ALONE" (group: Live; album: Live)

14) Not being home with a sick kid today.

15) Vanilla-cinnamon candles.

16) Telling stories.

17) Trillion -- best & only way to IM. Thanks LPNole!!

Once Upon a Time in Ash-land

Once upon a time, in a happy place filled with only smart people (Ash-land) there lived a young woman named Ashley.
Or maybe that's her name.

This is a roman a clef - like most of my writing -- so you'll have to just go with it, OK?

Ash has been seeing a guy (let's call him Carlos) who sounds too-cool-to-be-under-25.

They're having the kind of relationship where they have DISCUSSED taking it (IT???) slow.

No commitments. Not yet.

Their idea is that if they like each other, they won't see other people.

If they really like each other, they'll see more of each other.

REVOLUTIONARY!

Fantastic!

So fantastic that Ash has all the freedom in the world to find out (or rather, remember) that there are less-cool people.

So this OTHER guy asks Ash out. He calls a few times, then they hang out.

About an hour or so into this hey-just-friends-seeing-if-there-is-anything-there adventure, he gets... well.

He're what he does.

The guy leans in, says "I'm looking for a serious girlfriend. Someone I can rely on, hang out with. I think that you could that girl."

*****************
If I were there, I'd shout RUN ASH RUN. But I wasn't.

And this is FICTION, so why don't you IMAGINE me hovering about them, shocked.

And LAUGHING.
*****************

When she didn't respond warmly to his shocking question, above mentioned guy asks, sincerely "What do I need to do to make you fall in love with me?"

Hmmm.

Ash, do me a favor.

Make him audition.

January 26: Today's Secrets

1) Zack did not wake up one time during the night.

Not once. Wow. That means *I* slept from 9pm to 4am, all-in-one-shot.

Look out world, I can actually think clearly today. (That was a declaration, not a threat.)

2) There was a pair of slippers in the kids' bathroom.

Odd, because we are not the kind of people who wear slippers. I think they're weird. Ugly. Silly.

But anyway, there they were. 2 blue slippers right by the sink in the kids bathroom.

I noticed them at 4:30am, then did my regular shower-pack-lunches-and-get-the-h*ll-out-so-I-can-write thing, BUT NOW I'm really concerned.

Did we have an overnight guest I am unaware of?
If so, couldn't he/she/they have packed lunches for the kids? And for me?

This is getting odder and odder. Oh well.

3) I did not actually pack lunch for myself today.

If you didn't read about this yesterday, I know you're thinking --- "this girl has NO life" which might be true, but still --

HOWEVER I did toss some bread into a baggie, grabbed the spicy mustard and hijacked the rest of the turkey breast.

Now I have enough food for breakfast (which I won't eat), lunch (which I will probably eat) and lunch tomorrow (which may never come, but always does --).

I am now BORING MYSELF, so GOODBYE.

I gotta go write something brilliant.

Later!

History Soup

(from my class blogs)

1) FEEDBACK
While I have enough time to give some of you feedback on your assignments, I am probably not giving some of you ALL the guidance and support you'd wished for.

In general, it is easier and more effective for me to guide students who already demonstrate substantial independent work. I do my best to encourage and inspire you, but I cannot give give you a starting point. Once you are clearly headed somewhere, I can say "turn right!" or "stop, that's a dead end!"
I will not let you flounder or get lost.

But I will also not give you a topic, because what interests me might bore you to death (not likely, but possible!)

2) CONTEXT
As you work on your independent learning projects, I am seeing some interesting patterns emerge.
A few people are already hyper-focused on small topics.
Others are standing in the middle of huge topics, unsure of where to go.

Let me give you some advice that will help strengthen your analytical and research skills.

I like to think of facts, people, events as noodles bubbling in a soup of context.

Some of you are looking at topics that seem to be mostly broth. I promise, if you stir the pot, you'll find the noodles, carrots, and whatever else is hiding on the bottom of the pot.

Others are already focused on a single noodle. You are staring at a single fact, person, event, and not appreciating the context -- the soup -- that cooked it.

Remember, test #1 is next week. AMH 1050 test is Thursday 2/2; AMH 2020 is Friday 2/3.
I will have the study guide posted by Sunday.

Secrets Everywhere

1) So I call home to check in, make sure there has been no famine, flood or other event excluded by Homeowner's Insurance... and asked dear husband about dinner.

(Wednesday is $5 for Dominoes, FYI, carryout only)

He says, in an almost-but-not-quite-irritated-way "I know you're hungry. The whole WORLD knows you didn't have lunch."

I'm now all ready to fish for compliments....

So I say "You read my blog?"

And he said "The first two lines."

(*sigh*)

2)Thanks for all the emails offering food IF I would just walk over to your office OR catch a cab OR jump on a plane.

You can REST now, kindly people. Jarrett fed me lunch.
Not literally, but she toasted some pita bread and shared her hummus.
She didn't have to do it, but she's kind and generous and fighting on the front lines of PMS right along with me.

Soldiers marching arm-and-arm against the red tide.

(((Wearing the CUTE military uniforms, the dressy tailored ones, NOT the ones with that paisely-camo khaki.)))



Good to know I have friends (and strangers?) who are well-meaning and supportive.

Send chocolate.

BREAKING NEWS

I JUST realized that every drawer in my office is hiding at least one empty stapler.

I think my office is located in an Ancient Stapler Burial Mound.

Apparently the Ancient Staplers (100 BM) (Before Melissa) took great care to place Empty (and therefore, dead) Staplers under rumply paper that they once found of value but later had no idea what to do with....

A very sophisticated culture indeed.

I shall contact my resident Anthropologist and investigate. I am fearful of angering the Great Staple Goddess (ClickClick), who might send her Staple Gun Warriors to... to..... nail me.

(Shudder)

Oh. No.
I need a Staplopologist.
Maybe there is someone at Northwestern?

.... or Office Depot?

I shall keep you posted.
Very interesting indeed.

Why did The Melissa NOT Cross the Road?

I didn't pack lunch.

Every morning -- about 2 hours before dawn, and about 30 minutes before my diet coke and diet pills bring me to a higher state of consciousness -- I make the kids' breakfast & lunch.

And EVERY SINGLE DAY I think "hmmm, maybe I should pack something for myself?"

But then I think, nah. I won't be hungry.

I don't need to eat. Or sleep. (But that's old news...)

I'm Super Melissa, dammit!

So Jarrett was *just* in the doorway (lightening up my mood, thanks --) and we realized that if our Wednesday 3pm faculty seminar is in a computer room, there won't be the cool spread of food that I've come to rely on for my daily nutrients, chocolate fix, and general happiness.

Ever-resourceful Jarrett said "You can go to Wendy's" (it's across the street)

And I said "No, I'd have to walk too far to get my car just to drive across the street"

You can WALK across the street.

No. I am NOT walking across the street in MY CUTE BOOTS and a SUIT.
No.
ESPECIALLY not for fast food, even if order a salad.

People walk across the street all the time.

Only prostitutes cross the street wearing BOOTS to get fast food.

She looked at me like I was crazy.

At least I'm consistent. And open minded...

*

January 25: What Writers Need

Well, I can't speak for all writers, but I need:

• To (at least feel like I) look really cute when I write, or I'm distracted. Lipgloss is essential, a skirt and heels are extremely beneficial.
• Music of my choosing, and at exactly the right volume
• Something tugging me emotionally
• Constant praise, or at least intermittent communication

My attention isn't here today.

I'm writing, but my heart is just not into this today.

These are guilty heavy sluggish words, filling this space not because I have anything to say, but because I can't write what's on my mind.

That sounded so f**ing deep.

Must be my cute lipgloss egging my fingers on.

Now, back to.....

The Iceberg Cometh

ICEBERG: mass of ice that has become detached, or calved, from the edge of an ice sheet or glacier and is floating on the ocean.

******************************************************************************
Last night was one of those nights where I was thinking so much, writing so much in my head, that by 3:30am I was marking time until I could get up and make the words real. Permanent.

Much of what I was thinking about will go directly into the book. I need to write them like I feel them now - raw, bare, bold. Those words are not for my blog, sorry.

But the inspiration? It was real.

As real as these words you are saying along with me, wherever you are.

My inspiration was journey I took last night, a boat ride south. Past the Caribbean, around Venezuela, Brazil, still heading south.

Drifting aimfully to find an iceberg.

It was a journey I could not explain, even to myself, and one to which I was both ridiculously and expectantly attatched.

When I finally found the iceberg that I hoped -- knew? -- would be waiting, it woke me with a bump.

I was not startled. Just grateful. I did not anchor, for fear of scarring the giant.

It was a work of art, entirely. Magnificent, beyond what I could have hoped for. At least the part I could see.

For hours I sat in my boat, chin resting on my left knee.

It was a quiet, reflective position, one that felt like the warmth I was seeking.

I should have felt much colder, but it felt like home. Safe, strong, familiar.

Icebergs are not silent. They crack and pop, like someone tapping their pen on a desk to punctuate points. I listened, listened so carefully for a word - a sign - an answer.

It mocked me, gently, because there was no question needing an answer.

So I spent hours admiring it. Combing every bit of it with my eyes, memorizing the beauty of every groove.

The smile from that dream is still bright on my face.

Maybe, just maybe, that was what the pilgrimage had been all about.

You Got Me. Thanks. Do it again!

Dear Jarrett and Peggy (Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty) --

Thanks for yesterday, for coming in here and laughing with me between classes.

But as far as Jarrett peeking her head in "to say goodbye" when she could see (and hear) I was on TWO phonecalls... I mean, you knew I was distracted, you brilliant she-spy.

And Peggy? Doing Jarrett's bidding?
Because you could NOT have even dreamed of tricking ME?! Nay! nay! You innocent soul, thrown to the wolves, becoming one of them. I see the yellow glint in your eyes...

So, anyway, yes, you won.

I threw my arms up and said NO! Not today, with my mush-brain!!!
Good trick. I'm flattered by the attention.
Paybacks are... are... are how I like to say "I love you..."
So, um, watch out.

January 23: Today's Secrets

1) What? You think I can't keep a secret? Hello???

2) Zacaroni just walked up and stole my coke. But it's caffeine-free, diet, so I'm not really missing out on much. Maybe he'll bring me his YooHoo? Now THAT's worth stealing.

3) I MADE DINNER. Already! And it isn't even DARK out yet!!!
Maybe this means that I don't need a wife to cook for me.
I can do it all.
Ignore my previous lamentations.

Quiet, GO AWAY

Subtitle: If I’d have known I would only write 5 pages today, Maybe I would’ve Slept In.

I received a surprise visit from an old friend this morning.

(Not a phone call. I like phone calls. I bet she called and I missed it!)

Well, she isn’t a friend, more of an acquaintance.
She stops by my life now and then, always when I don’t expect her. I don’t know how she found me at the coffeeshop. I thought she was allergic to caffeine. Hmmm.

Her name is, well, I can’t tell you her name.
Because she is just an imaginary friend.

I call her Quiet.

That might not really be her name, but she doesn’t talk, so what the f* I can call her what I want, right?

When she’s around, I just feel peaceful.
Even my fingers feel a little slow, relaxed.
Content.
She is my kryptonite, my roofie.

When she is around, I can’t write.
I need stimulation! Anxiety! Laugher!

Wait, I’m writing this.
So I CAN write.
But I don’t feel funny, sharp, Tigger-ish and bouncy.

I feel like she is holding my shoulders, petting my head, showing me with her actions that I need to shhhhhh.
Just sit very still.
Be a statue for awhile.
HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO????

Writers cannot be peaceful.

We need agitation, urgency, the itch to blurt something out to the world.

I have things to blurt out! I do! I do!!!!!!

I’m doing my best here, writing and writing until I annoy Quiet and she goes to someone who appreciates her.

She is more than welcome to come back when I’m doing yoga, or listening to Zoë read me a Madeline book.

But right now, shooo.

I have work to do.

I Can't Stop, and Why SHOULD I Stop?

If you know me, you know I get stuck on songs.

Right now I'm completely happy and satisfied by this remix I found on (a p2p server, my secret, OK?) CRASH INTO ME (Remix). It's like a dance-techno version of Dave Matthews. Really up, still sexy, but not so.... longing. I'm not into longing. Longing is not attractive. Can I make a bumper sticker out of that?

The next song is You're Beautiful, by James Blunt. They're totally overplaying it on the radio, and I'll be sick of soon, but it's still intriguing.

Then, Rob Thomas, Lonely Anymore, followed by Underneath it All, No Doubt.

My playlist then fades into Kelly Clarkson songs, more Dave Matthews, some old Sting, and a bit of Janis Joplin.

As you can see, I'm not really moving on the novel today. I might just write (insert the rest of the chapter) on the page and just go on to the following chapter, because if it bores me to write, it probably won't be too great to read.

Enough said.

Email is NOT Tennis

Confidential to: smart-but-young@generationY.com

Re: Getting over IT
______________________________

My friend, it is TIME to address the ISSUE.

((And you are a friend, although sometimes I think you try to make me a surrogate aunt, which only makes me feel OLD)).

Email is NOT tennis.

Not when it's between friends, not when it's between people-with-crushes, not when it's between family-even-if-they're-distant.

Tennis is a two-player game, it involves expectations of returns, of Aces, of winning.

Email, please know and just believe, is more like waving to friends who are part of a crowd of people in the hall between classes.

Sometimes they wave back. Sometimes they just smile.

And, yes, sometimes they stop and talk.

And you might laugh, make lunch plans, or even go to lunch right then and there.

But usually, the talk is brief, and one or both of you disappear into classrooms again.

But then classes change, people walk by again, friends say Hi, and life goes on.

Got it? Friends don't FREAK OUT ABOUT whether they will see one another again, stuff like that.

And if you DON'T like him like a friend, then just drop the whole idea of him.

I got the email you sent a bunch of us back in December. The link to the singing babies.

It was cute.

I didn't respond because that email didn't invite any involvement.

I mean, it was cute, I forwarded it, but all and all, I was busy, I was glad you were doing OK.

It was like I passed you in the hallway, smiled at you, but kept going to the "classroom" that is my life (OK, I live in my head, but this is about YOU!)

If you want him to respond, then maybe you should send email that are a bit deeper.

Unless you have nothing deep to say in email. I know you don't love writing (don't get started there, RIGHT?) but hey, the email game kinda requires that at least one person likes (or in my case LOVES) to write.

Maybe he is about as into writing as YOU are. Hmmm?

If you want to TALK to him, call him.
If he doesn't answer or return your call, THEN he's really saying something.

What? You don't want to call him?
Then forget all about it.


GRRRR. Singleness is WASTED on single people.

What married people know (and they would KILL me if I tell you, but hey, it's the weekend, I'm PMSing, and death sounds like an option here...) is that IF SOMEONE LIKES YOU THEY WILL GENERALLY SHOW SOME SORT OF INTEREST IN YOUR LIFE.

((Yes, even in YOUR life. Hee hee. I told you I'd write something, I didn't promise for it to be NICE.))

If he does (finally) respond, then good for him.

Send me an email and tell me all about it. But if you really want to know what I think, give me a call.

Mona Lisa PMSing Wreck

Mona Lisa Smile came out while I was pregnant with Zack. It opened on my birthday, and I remember seeing previews and thinking "now, that's so cool I can see a movie about a college professor -- Julia Roberts, hooray! -- in history, and it has all the New Great Ones, like Maggie and Kirsten."

But I didn't go see it. I was working 2 jobs then, and I was... tired. If I'd have known that I'd soon be working 4 jobs, I might have taken the time for a movie. Anyway.

Over the past two years, I've had conversations where people assume I've seen it. Then I shrug and say "no... I don't get to see many movies... I prefer to read, or be outside, or fix my lipgloss..."

I just figured that it couldn't be that good. That it would be a disappointment.

How can anyone capture what it really feels like to be a professor?
I mean, yeah, Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting. That was good. But, no, I just haven't seen anyone else.

Last semester I was having a conference with a student (who knows who she is) and she was very firm that I NEEDED to see the movie.

*Why?* I asked.

*You'll see.*

*Convince me.*

*When you see it you'll see what you have to give -- and what you have to learn.*

*Huh?*

She found my weak spot. I care little for being entertained, but I'm starving to learn.

Anything. Anytime.

So I tivo'd it, and watched it in the weeeeeee-hours of the morning today.

And cried. Cried hard.
Cried like MEN cry at the end of BRAVEHEART, or RUDY.

It was awesome.

Thank you student-friend, thank you for that.
I learned a lot. And laughed some too. It made PMSing almost kinda fun.

Now, have YOU seen SPANGLISH?? Surprisingly wonderful. Let me know!

January 21: Today's *Six* Secrets

1) It's my brother's birthday.

He wins. Again.

Every year I catch up to him for 32 days, then he wins. Again.

I know how it ends every year, and yet it's still exciting.

Meanwhile, he's making me an aunt, which is the coolest thing in the world because it involves absolutely no weight gain (although I *do* miss the weight-loss benefits of breastfeeding), ugly maternity clothes or staying up all night with crying babies.

I stay up all night a few times a week with a crying toddler, but, well, this is supposed to be about Winn, so nevermind.

2) My parents left for Europe today. Spain.

After never travelling (I exaggerate. EPCOT is "travelling" right?) for the last 55+ years (except the whole "leaving Cuba because of the revolution" thing --) Mom & Dad have become travellers.
This is their third trip to Spain. I'm going to miss them.

But, hello? Its JANUARY, so they're freezing their culitos off. I'm not TOO jealous.

3) I hate weekends.

Well, I take that back. I hate weekends at home with my family.

And I make no secret of that.

I need to show some leadership and make plans to get us out of the house because... because...

Oh don't start me. I was just writing enough to get out of this funky mood.

4) Speaking of funky moods, the book is coming along great.

It's getting harder to get to the coffeeshop (my writing place) every morning, but even three mornings a week works out to 40-50 pages. It's moving quickly. Satisfyingly.

5) I am always surprised that PMS surprises me. After 20 years, it's still "oh! hey! why am I scowling?" Because I'm not a scowly-person. I detest negative people. I detest people who detest people. I detest people who write about detesting people who detest people. Oh my f**ing sh*t stop me before I start throwing punches.
Just kidding!

6) Well, tomorrow is another day. One I'm starting at the coffeeshop. I'll accomplish enough by 10am that I will feel achieved and complete and can focus my energy on the kids.

Seriously, if I didn't feel this agitated pasison to finish the book, I'm sure I'd just put it away, or only write columns.
This angst, this "oh I could be WRITING, I don't WANT to (fill-in-the-maternal-activity) right now!!" attitude is a GIFT.

If I didnt' have it -- if I were perfectly happy -- I would get NOTHING done, then be miserable.

Think about THAT for awhile.

Something about Mary. And Winn.

It's a puzzle, how I got lucked out and landed Mary for a sister-in-law.

Yes, my brother is a genius, but really, did he KNOW that she would have Oprah-level gift-picking skills?

Did he KNOW that she would be super-cool and laid back at the same time?

Maybe. Again, the man is a genius.

Ask any of my students in any of the classes I've taught over the past 12 years about my brother.

I tell my students stories about his perseverence, attitude, intensity and (reluctantly) abundant integrity.

I use my brother to illustrate the modern "American Success Story."
But I digress.

Mary and my brother, Winn, live in Evanston, which is about a million miles away from my life, especially during years where groceries are lean and vacations are day-trips.

About three years ago I was able to attend a conference in Chicago and -- despite the fact I knew my boss would disapprove -- I ditched the hotel and stayed with Mary and Winn.

It was the most fun I've had in years.
OK, yes, it WAS my first trip anywhere without my husband or kids in about a decade.
But that wasn't what was so GREAT.
The wonderful thing was getting I to know my brother and sister as FRIENDS.
What a gift.

We drank. (Have I told you about their wine cellar?? No? Nevermind, then)
We went to nice restauants that people-with-toddlers-don't-even-think-about.
We cooked.
I coveted their dog, Seamus, but that's another story.

One of the highlights of that too-long-ago-trip was taking the train with Mary every morning from Evanston to downtown Chicago, feeling like a country mouse visiting her city-mouse cousin. I loved it, but seriously, if she hadn't have been there I would've ended up in Michigan or something.

Of course, she shared a nice warm coat with me (and socks, I think) because I packed for what I THOUGHT the weather in Chicago would be during April. Hello, Melissa owns NO gloves. Or hats. THANK GOD for Mary.

This year -- because we bought a house, dealt with some career changes, stuff like that -- we had the leanest Christmas ever.

A lovely one in South Florida, marred only by the stomach flu and... and something else.

It was the first Xmas in about ten years without Mary and Winn.

See, the twins (Baby A and Baby B, who will be making their debut in the next three weeks) were forcing her to slow down, sit down, lay down, all those great pregnant-with-twins things that regular humans will never be able to understand or endure.

Mary picked out -- and shipped -- the best presents for Zoe and Zack. Cute outfits that they wear EVERYDAY. Zack's was a Mickey Mouse outfit with a jacket (how did she KNOW??) and Zoe's was a pink outfit with a gorgeous pink fuzzy sweater (how did she KNOW??)

I missed her like mad over Xmas. I still do.

I mean, thank GOD she wasn't there, because pregnancy is bad enough without tossing-your-cookies every few minutes.

But Xmas wasn't the same. And I guess it never will be, because NEXT year we'll have the twins around to cuddle and spoil. Zoe will play grown-up cousin, and Zack (consider this fair warning) will be kissing the cousins until they cry for mercy.

Mary and Winn I'm thinking of you both, but I'm laying low.

During my last weeks with Zoe and Zack in utero, I walked around in a haze of exhaustion, confusion and hunger. I slept at odd times, and cried for no reason at all.

Hang in there guys.
You've done everything perfectly over the past ten years.
I know you're going to be wonderful parents.

If you ever need parenting advice, don't hesitate to call me.
I mean, I know nothing about kids, but hey, call me anyway.

At times when you need to make some quick decisions, though, here's a tip: Just ask "would Melissa do this?" and if the answer is YES... welll..... I think you're smart enough to learn from my mistakes.

Happy Birthday!!!

((and one last thing)))

Enjoy the QUIET while it lasts...

January 20: Sure, Ask ME about the Military. Go Ahead.

So today in my first class we covered Little Big Horn, The Ghost Dance, Chief Joseph, and the Battle of Wounded Knee Creek.

Good stuff, but not as juicy as -- say -- Clelia Duel Mosher or Dr. Walter Robie.

But I digress.

Anyway, a student comes up afterwards and asks about Psy-Ops.

I'm thinking "Hmm. Pychological Operations... not really common in the 1890s, unless you count bullying natives off their land..." but I didn't say much.

He continued...

And told me that he had a teacher who taught about the Psy-Ops Indians.

The si-ops?

The SI-Ox?

Oh My God. The Sioux Indians.

Please, please, please people.

If you can't PRONOUNCE the tribe, PLEASE just have the students READ that section, then go on to something you DO know.

Or at least that you can pretend to know.

Like Mary Crow Dog.

Start there and get back to me, OK?

Unless it's about PsyOps.
Shhhh.
I'm not allowed talk about that.

Anymore.

I will NOT sleep tonight.

And not for the USUAL reasons.




Right now, RIGHT NOW, people are being attacked by GIANT JELLYFISH off the coast of Japan.

Enough said.

January 19: Today's Secrets - Donuts and Ice

#1) I ate the last donut from the breakroom table.

It was me, and I am unapologetic.

I was hungry, and I really enjoyed it.

#2) I am weather-clueless.

Now that I park in the garage at home (which, by the way, makes me fell like a gazillionaire) AND listen to my mp3 player in the morning, I am totally insulated from... from... reality? Whatever.

So today I'm wearing my blue suit, the size 8 one that looks cute with this white shirt, but is a little too dressy if I wear pearls. So I didn't. And of course, suit REQUIRE pantyhose and heels.

Imagine my surprise at this morning as I'm driving to work... and seeing ice everywhere.
Well, at least I had gloves.

And I can walk REALLY fast in these heels.

History-icizing

So Jarrett and I have offices so close that we can hear EVERYTHING, and she's going over papers where students are proposing their research topics.

Melissa?

Ummm?

Who's K-a-n-y-e West?

He's the guy who said "George Bush doesn't like black people"

(quiet from Jarrett's office)

Is he dead?

Nope.

Then he's not a good topic.

You're RIGHT! Dead people make better history.

(quiet again, from both of our offices)

January 19: Bobbi Brown, NOT the Singer

So yesterday I'm sitting at my desk when Peggy (Dr. Russell to you) (Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty --) comes in to my office, all cheery as usual.

Then she stopped herself.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

I wasn't.

Unless you count surviving on 90 minutes of sleep "sick."

Or if you count being-so-tired-that-I-actually-scowled-at-someone-trying-to-make-smalltalk-while-I-was-still-on-my-first-cup-of-coffee-at-the-coffeeshop-before-dawn "sick."

Then I realized... Oh!

"Peggy, I'm not sick! I just need a bit of lipstick.. and some gloss..."

I made her stand there while I whipped out the Bobbi Brown brushes, mixed some colors, added a touch of bronzer...

Her eyes got a little wide.
OK, a lot wide.

Then she leaned in a little, because now that we're friends, she can ask me anything.

"Much better. How did you learn to... I mean... Did you used to do that professionally?"


"No. I'm just always a little tired."

She smiled and went back to her office.

This is a happy place!

January 18: Today's Secrets

1) Zackaroni has been walking around for 2 days saying "dammmit" and then saying -- in a clear imitation of his wise and worldly sister -- "we don't say dammit."

This is clear evidence that he spends more time with his father than with me, because otherwise he'd be telling people to f* themselves.

2) Zack has an ear infection and basically only slept last night for about 20 minutes at a time, punctuated by restless flailing, moaning, kicking, etc.

Around 2:30am he sat up, said MAAAAAAMIIIIII then head butt-ed me.

I didn't even deserve it this time.

My Mom, Laughing -- To the Bank!

Now we know the rest of the story!

(see yesterday, "My Mom, Laughing")

Guilty Pleasures, List #2

1) Tivo'd Programs: American Idol. Cheaters. Dog the Bounty Hunter. Intervention.

2) Francis Ford Copolla's wonderful red wines, especially his Rossi.

3) Crackers and cheese when I'm PMSing.

4) Aveda's rosemary mint body cream.

5) Hot showers in a cold bathroom before the sun rises.

6) Getting someone to laugh, then laughing together.

7) The quiet in the house before the kids come home.

8) Steak. Steak. Steak. Did I mention I love steak?

9) My new rings that I am wearing on my right hand which made me feel artsy, sexy and powerful... kinda like Captain Jack Sparrow from *Pirates of the Caribbean.* But with better teeth. And hair. Among other things.

10) Talking sports with men, especially when they mess up how the BCS goes. Adding my 2 cents about Marcus Vick, then (still) lamenting Pudge Rodriguez's departure from the Marlins (I have NOT forgiven him. But I do still have a soft spot for catchers, in general) .

11) Telling men that I used to be a man, too.

12) Making six figures. Realizing -- and loving -- that making money is far more satisfying than spending it.

13) Blogging for 10 minutes when I run into a dead end in my other writing.

January 17: Today's Secret

1) I'm wearing a plum-colored suit, pearls, and heels.
I am also drinking diet coke out of a Harry Potter cup.
($10 says Jarrett will get up and come see if I'm fabricating this.)

2) I am resorting to writing emails in spanglish, pig latin and code from home because Zoe can pretty much read every word I write except disestablishmentarianism.

Which I don't use nearly as much as disenfranchise, a word she can now read but can't illustrate with examples from history. Yet.

My Mom, Laughing

I have NO idea why my MOM was playing dress up.

.....And involved a photographer in her party.

Hey, that mirror doesn't go in the Living Room!

What's up, Mom??? Dad??????

Can you see me NOW?

So yesterday the local newspaper had a nice story about how regular people can just go on google and get all sorts of satellite-image maps.

Dear husband immediately was concerned that terrorists would use google to find all sorts of things in the US.

I told him, no -- this is our way of telling terrorists WE can see THEM.

But anyway. I did my best to find our house and was very disappointed that you couldn't see me.

So I spread a bright pink blanket in the backyard, put on a cute outfit and did yoga for awhile.

Hopefully the satellite was watching, since I gave it something worth taking a few pictures of ....

I mean, where do our tax dollars REALLY go???

CAMP MELISSA - Smashing Success

I'm pleased to report that camp is OVER.
Here is a brief retrospective of the highlights.

--80% of the children were picked up by their parents.
The remaining ones fetched over $75,000 on ebay.
Notice to buyers: shipping and handling were NOT included.

--The kids enjoyed 29-straight-hours of television without once complaining. That's because the leadership here at CAMP MELISSA works closely with INDUSTRY EXPERTS to ensure we give each and every camper the SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN MAXIMUM dosage of sugar, guaranteed to induce stupor. Our competitors stop after only a few cupcakes and doritos, and from what we've heard THEY have kids bouncing off the wall. Would you want YOUR kids there?

-- Our home only suffered minor structural damage which was caused by parent-driven cars racing each other out of the driveway after ditching their kids. Note to Parents: Reverse is reverse. Check your gears!!

-- SOUNDS GOOD? Then think about CAMP MELISSA -- THE EASTER BUNNY EXPERIENCE. Three days of hiding kids like eggs, promising that the Easter Bunny will find them, and threatening them that -- if they move -- wild animals will tear them limb-from-limb.

Good times!!

HURRY!! Space is limited.

My Guy

Zack is my guy.

We are both ridiculous optimists.

Zack is almost 2.

He can count to 10, recognize all the Disney characters, and yes he even has a FAVORITE princess. (Snow White)

He can speak in sentences, and likes to ask for what he wants (oh, yeah, so do I - but back to him).

Last night he kept asking for Mickey Mouse Soup. There is no such thing.

The people at Campbell's make Dora Soup (not out of Dora, as I had to explain to Zoe...)

They make soccer-ball soup. They make all sorts of crazy soups.

But not Mickey Mouse Soup. Which I tried to explain to Zack.

Because I'm an optimist, I thought he would understand.

When I gave him his soup and he didn't see MICKEY MOUSE, he MELTED DOWN with an oh-my-god-he-is-not-really-like-this-please-send-my-happy-kid-back kind of fit.

He banged his head on the table, then on the floor (ummm, granite... and yes, his father was concerned **BUT** I am an optimist, so I'm all "hey, God would NOT make it that easy for kids to do brain damage).

I think that the black-and-blue-and-green bump on Zack's head really brings out the green in his eyes.

Gotta go.

Zack is asking for a cup of chocolate-milk-apple-juice.

No, he won't get what he hopes and expects to get, this time.
But overall, I know he's playing for the right team.

Go Zack!!! Ask for the stars, and be happy with dirt.

Life is much more fun for people like us.

CAMP MELISSA! SIGN UP NOW!

Don't know what to do with your kids for this 3-day-weekend?

Sign up for CAMP MELISSA!!

Based on the philosophies of NYC's "Miss Hannigan" (immortalized in Annie), CAMP MELISSA will be three days of cleaning, singing, using inappropriate language, and gymnastics.

If the mood strikes, CAMP MELISSA will also include a trip to WAL-MART!!!!!!
(Without child seats. It's more fun than Space Mountain!!)


FEE: $3,000 (you KNOW it's worth it to you!)

SUPPLIES:
We have food but sometimes forget to feed the kids. If they're hungry, they'll ask.
Don't bother sending a change of clothes, they just all swap clothes anyway.

OTHER:
Baths & toothbrushing not included.
Please hose your child up when you pick them up.

CAMP ENDS:
6pm on Monday, January 15.

Campers not picked up by 7pm will be sold to Daddy Warbucks.

HURRY!! only 5 spots available!!

Friday the 13th

Happy Friday!

To start my Friday-the-13th on the wrong foot, I managed to oversleep.

Oh well. I still showered, dressed, picked out a cute outfit and got to the coffeeshop to write by 6:15am.

Meagan laughed at me, and Don told me it looked like I had "quite a night."

They were referring to my Wild Hair Day. It takes a lot of pulling, pleading and ironing to get my hair all straight and shiny. In it's natural state, it looks like Hermione Grangers... in the first two movies, not the ones where she's discovered boys....

Rick, a man of kind words who -- to me -- is a mix between Clark Kent and Alex Trebec -- says my skill at speed-dressing might just qualify me to be a firefighter.

Good idea, but no.
I don't *do* rubber boots.
And who can look fabulous with their hair under one of those helments?
Nope.
I just don't feel the calling.
For the RECORD, I have no interest in poles what-so-ever.

Today also marks the end of a FANTASTIC first week of school.

Everyone -- faculty, staff and students -- is on their best behavior and all decorated with their nicest new clothes. I predict this will last about 2 more weeks, then everyone will still be happy, kind and all that good stuff, but back into more-comfortable clothes.

Although I am ridiculously happy about EVERYTHING, I can say that I'm not ogling the weekend with eager eyes.
See, I'm staring at three days at home, because (of course) they don't have (pre)school on Monday.

Three-day-lockdown with the kids.

Just the idea of it...

Send help!
Or at least a fire truck!

Pack a Lunch and BRING IT ON!

I really enjoyed having an assignment today! (Thanks, anonymous --)

Pretty much every day I pick apart my world find something funny ((or at least interesting)) to write about -- princesses, the woman who sweeps her yard, the carman, Eeyore -- but having a topic suggested sure sped the writing process up.

Um, I know this makes me a dork, but I gotta say - it was fun.

Anyone else?
Any other suggestions?

Other People in My Hallway

Peggy -- Dr. Russell -- is also on our hallway.

She teaches teachers to become EDUCATORS. Herculean task. Right person to do it.

Today I greeted Peggy a little too heartily, and she kinda screamed. Kinda.

I think I scared her, but I was here 4 hours before Peggy. And I made my way through the top half of a pot of Cuban coffee.

So today she was moving her f and telling a story about having to wear a tin foil cap once to appease someone who said that it would keep aliens from invading your brain.

Peggy got that nice woman help. Maybe she'll get me help too.

Since I'm a die-hard-easedropper, I just bounced (Tigger-style) into the hall between our offices with a coffee-filter on my head, because I hear that those offer optimal alien-invasion-protection. And because I like to make people laugh.

They did.
But not everyone, actually.

Mark didn't.

The assistant-to-the-dean who is also working right now as the boss-of-how-to-rearrange-furniture told me it's too late.

Everyone knows my brain has already been invaded.

(That explains NOTHING, thank you very much. Political Science professors should not diagnose.)

Thanks Mark. Dr. Druash.

King of desk-placement and Vice President of Bagels.

I love my job.

January 12: Dear Anonymous -- No Eeyores!

Anonymous said...
Why do you get up so early in the morning? You must go to bed at 8:00 p.m. Tell us more about the people you work with.

Sounds like loaded questions, Anonymous!
I have nothing to hide, so here we go...........

1) I get up so early because I am *THAT* competitive.

The first person there (anywhere) wins.

Period.

I am not allowed to tell you what the prize is -- it differs by location, etc, but you'll have to see for yourself.

2) I dont' go to bed at 8pm, because the kids are still running around making too much noise.

I have been known to hide in the bathroom around that time and write (somethings can't wait!! what if I FORGET?) for awhile but they usually find me or their father rats me out.

I'm not a big fan of sleep. I don't enjoy it as much as other people.

If I set the alarm for 2:30am, I don't wake up and think "What the **&&^? I'm going back to sleep!" -- I just get up and start doing things.

("Doing things" by the way, does not include: cleaning, laundry, any other person, or watching TV.)

I have a lot of really rewarding things I'm doing that are mentally and emotionally challenging.

I love challenges!! Much better than being unconscious.

While other people walk around well-rested, I'm cranking out 20, 25 pages a day.

Bliss. Happiness. Fulfillment. Improvement.

(I think I'll put that on a flag)


3) People at work?

Hmmm. Well, Jarrett (Professor Phipps to you, by the way --) said I could write about her.

Her office and mine are right off the same hallway, and are so close that if she's on the phone I think she's talking to me.

It happens every day. It just happened while I was writing that last section.

I hate talking on the phone (if I'm writing, and I'm usually writing), so she doesn't ever have to worry about whether I'm talking to her or not.

I am.

I talk to Jarrett more than anyone... except myself.
And some of the characters in my book.
But they don't talk back.
They just nod and do what they're told.
But I digress.

Jarrett and I have very different styles.

We both taught an early class today - I got here 2.5 hours BEFORE class, she got here 10 minutes before class.

I think her blood pressure is a lot lower... she doesn't do caffeine.
And things don't really bother her.
She is just so -- so -- calm. Mature. Even-tempered. Thoughful.

God didn't make me that way.

He made me more like Tigger.
I mean, Tigger without the tail, and with 35 years of self-control-I-learned-the-hard-way.

Jarrett and I get along because neither of us are Eeyores.

Our offices have been designated an Eeyore-free-zone.

I think I'll make a sign for that.

Thanks for the homework -- another reason to get up early!

January 12: Today's (Early) Secrets

No, it isn't even 8am and I've done alot.

I guess it's ALL secret because I have been up for four hours and have had no human contact yet!

But that's OK, because at 8:35am I teach in this awesome classroom with a HUGE Imax-style screen behind me and a big stage area.

No secrets yet. I'm saving my energy.
Oh, wait. Here's a secret.

I changed my website around this morning (after writing a lecture on the developement of US Foreign Policy, picking out a cute outfit that looks good with my fluffy hair, and making a pot of strong coffee...)

10 points if you can tell what's new on my website...

1,000 points if you can figure out why....

January 11: Today's Secret - The look on my face

Yes, I do have an oddly relaxed expression on my face, thanks for asking.

The Plan has been very easy to write, almost too easy, but I've kept my pace pretty moderate because I haven't been able to come up with a smart ending that wasn't too dark, too sweet, or (WORST OF ALL) too obvious!

Last night I kept tossing the final scene into the air like pizza dough above my head.

I spun it, stretched it, kneaded it, whacked good a few times... until...

I got exactly to the best ending for The Plan, one which connects right to the beginning scene of Hooked, and sews the books and a few key characters together in a thoughtful (and *surprising*) way.

(And I know it is surprising because I described it to Jarrett, and it made her eyebrows go up and she laughed... and she is NOT an easy person to shock by the way but that's ANOTHER story )

And no, it isn't a happily-ever-after book, but -- well, back to writing!!!

So there.

Guilty Pleasures

1) Running DOWNhill
2) Opening the windows of my office on a beautiful day
3) TIVO'd Taxicab Confessions
4) Spicy mustard
5) L'Instant de Guerlain
6) Writing, thinking, laughing, stretching, then writing some more

The Car Man Cometh

I was just sitting in my office yesterday, alphabetizing final exams and final papers as foreplay to grading.

There was a gentle knock on my office door.

He opened the door before I could respond, then stood in the doorway as though I'd been expecting him.

Of course, I hadn't, but I pride myself on world-class bluffing skills, so I said *Hi.*

He was handsome, stern and kind at the same time.

I remembered him well but knew better than to show my delight.

Instead of standing up to offer a handshake or a hug, I leaned back in my chair and smiled. This always makes me feel more powerful, but it goes against my nature -- which is FAR closer to a spastic cocker spaniel than a regal but disdainful cat.

He closed the door behind him conspiratorially, and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

What's the story about your car?

I love the accent that lilts his words, making them sound more like poetry or music than plain conversational English.

Oh, my car. (Damn!!!! He wants to talk about my CAR?? Well, I am a married woman.)

Um. So you've been reading my blog? (He nodded)

OK. Well, see, I had a little accident wayyyy back in September , and needed new tires and rims, but I never got new hubcaps.

So I have this car that is reliable and great but it has no hubcaps, and one of the doors doesn't work, and it doesn't play CDs.

And I really need to vaccumm it....

Yes. What's the story? You haven't taken care of cars as long as I've known you. And now all this "good car," "bad car" stuff....

That's not true! I. I mean, I... well. I....

You're right. I don't.

I looked up at him with my puppy dog eyes, admitting failure, hoping to be scolded, praised, hugged and maybe taken for a loooooooong walk without a leash.

I wilted a little bit in the chair.

My invisble cocker spaniel tail kept wagged quickly, betraying my delight at his attention.

Well. Maybe I don't take care of my cars because I'm hoping someone will do it for me.

He laughed, but still didn't sit down.

And since he didn't ask another question, I babbled on with my confession, hoping for a treat, scratch behind the ears, SOMETHING.

Umm, my spedometer and odometer kinda don't work, so I know I probably need an oil change but really I can't tell if I've gone 3,000 miles...

He nodded, not excusing me, but showing his understanding.

Wal-Mart has oil changes for $14.95. And a nice waiting room where you could grade exams while you wait.

Do they have hubcaps too?

He laughed, told me to behave myself, and slipped out as quickly as he arrived.

Sigh.

He forgot to ask for my car keys. Does he seriously think I'll do it myself?

Maybe I will go to WalMart for the dreaded oil change.

It would be something to write about.

And I could pick up some doggie treats -- like diet coke, cabernet, and stuff to make a carrot cake -- while I'm waiting.

Moment of ?

So one of my favorite people in the world is going through a tough time, which is cool because she's just reevaluating stuff.

But anyway, she was in my office today and some tears happened... and all I had to give her to wipe her face up with was a coffee filter.

That made me feel very un-maternal, but, well, it's reality.

So, she stopped crying and we laughed.
I warned her I would blog this, and she laughed even more.

Which is a good thing, because she's going to be just fine.

Better than fine, in fact. She is on her way to becoming someone I will admire greatly.

And, for your curiousity, that's a VERY short list.

Anyway -- kind readers, if you find yourself needing soft kleenex, kind words, commisseration and a cup of tea, steer clear of (my office at TCC) HSS 256.

January 10: Today's Secret

Wait.

It's too early to have a secret.

Or is it?

Get back to me later.

January 9: Today's Secrets

1) Yesterday (Sunday) I called my mother-in-law to tell her happy birthday, but it turned out that yesterday was NOT January 9. And, as it turns out, January 9 is NOT her birthday. But I did convince her to come over and play with the kids while I went to the grocery, so... um... yeah. Nevermind.

2)At dinner the other night, Zoe kept talking to her invisible friend, Jessica, who was sitting at the sofa watching TV (I guess she had already eaten -- or she wasn't into lechon asado?).
Zoe also pretended to be Jessica, so, well, I guess she entertained herself well.

Meanwhile, Zack-a-roni hummed his ABC's and cleaned his plate.

It was peaceful.

January 8: Today's Secret

So yesterday I walk into the coffeeshop, the one I sometimes live at for 2 hours a morning 7 days a week and then miss for a few days, and am greeted with (not even a good-morning-melissa, but a) "I didn't know you've been writing a book. I thought you sat here and wrote on your blog."

So I WANTED to say good-morning-you, because he's very awake in the morning and since these were the first words spoken to me that day I needed a few seconds to say something worth saying. And I didn't know his name, which is par-for-course.

But nothing came out, so I said, "Yes. Um, you're right."

But what I meant to say, what I'm doing right now, is that blogging is what I do when I'm stuck in the novel.

After two hours, three hours, and sometimes after ten minutes, of re-working and revising the novel, I have to jump out of the mental-jacuzzi-wonderland-whatever of the novel and take a mental walk.

But I can't get up from the chair, because once I'm up, the writing ends and I'll feel incomplete for the rest of the day.

So if you want to know how the novel is going, just look at the blog postings.

See how they're staggered? One day -- three days -- nothing.

Then five posts in one day, on a day where I've hit a wall, I need to make a decision about a character, about taking something out, or about how to introduce a part of a character that is dying to come out.

(which, by the way I can date-stamp for whatever time/date I choose, so don't think they represent reality)

Since this is the second post today, I think you can summize that I wrote five pages and got stuck today.

But tomorrow's another day.

Tire Kicking 101

The 3 Kings brought me hubcaps.

I mean, they didn't actually.

They really just told me to get them for myself, and send them the receipt. But anyway.

The installation said to whack them in (roughly translated from Korean) with a rubber mallet.

My husband, who-has-no-such-tool but-does-have-golf-clubs, was vice president of hubcap installation, and brought Zacaroni in as an unpaid apprentice.

When I asked him, later, how it went, he said fine.

So -- because I'm an investigator by nature and researcher by profession -- I asked him HOW he managed to get the hubcaps on.

Instead of a rubber mallet, he used (and this is a QUOTE) "the rubber part of my Timberlanes."

I think -- I have a theory -- this tranlates to "I kicked the sh*t out of them until they stuck."

The circumstancial evidence that supports this theory comes from my anecdotal observations of the recent suspicious activies by the above-mentioned unpaid apprentice.

For the past three days, every time he gets into the garage, Zack makes a beeline to my car, reels back and lays a series of karate kick on the hubcaps.

Thanks, 3 Kings.

At least this year you didn't leave all that camel poop.

We appreciate the gesture.

January 7: Today's Secret

Today at TGI Fridays, when I was walking to my chair looking all cute in the new brown nubby soft sweater with the cute hoody, a toddler sitting in a highchair reached over and grabbed my butt.

I guess he'd already had a drink or two.

January 5: Today's Secret

Sometimes I think my kids are NUTS.

But I don't tell them.

I just give them the look you see here, which is part HUH? and part OOOH, GET OFF MY LAP, I NEED TO WRITE THAT!

All That -- and an Apple Pie, too!

Wal-Mart oil change was painless. I did not bring a camera to document it, so you'll have to take my word.

The happy time in Walmart passed quickly.

Not so quickly, however, that I didn't get a GREAT idea.

I decided that INSTEAD of doing academic work, I should devote a few hours to making more apple pies.

Apparently they're good enough for my mother-in-law to snag (even though she called and said, sorry, we love it and we aren't bringing the rest over to your house, even though we said we would....) and good friends to hide from their teenage sons. High compliments, indeed.

I mean, who know this little Cubanita who cares-not-a-bit-for-apple-pie would stumble on Americana???

I have yet to have an entire piece of any of the pies I've made...

Wake me up when I start making Chocolate pies.

Then kill me, PLEASE, because I really don't want to be a woman who makes, and eats, pies.

The end.

(This is post #100. Hooray!!)

Coffee Hours, Office Hours

So here's my problem.
Really, a situation.

When I packed up at the end of last semester (just a few things... library books, lip gloss, coffee cups) I removed the espresso maker from my office.

Why?

1) It was a f**ing pain because it only brewed into two espresso cups. That would be fine if I were doing cuban coffee shots ALL the time (not just before class).

2) I have found that Melissa-wired-on-Cuban-coffee is NOT the most fun person to be around ALL the time.

3) I want to be able to offer coffee to my students and guests, and a regular coffeemaker would be a better idea.
CLARIFICATION -- I don't DO *regular,* anything, but I'm SURE I can find something exquisitely beautiful, clean and stylish for under $50.

Sometime in November I realized I need a better coffee maker, one of my own, with a thermal carafe like I have at home so that it stays warm -- but not burnt -- for hours.

Plus, coffee -- regular (Cuban) or flavored -- smells good.

I pride myself on having a great-smelling office, filled with fresh air (from 2 windows.... Did I mention I have two HUGE windows in my gorgeous office?) and candles that burn scents like "angelfood cake" and "sugar cookie."

I love having an office that students can sink into, relax, and maybe actually believe they're in college.

Office hours were my favorite part of college and grad school.

I was NEVER the student sitting in the front row who never missed a class.

I was the A+ student who showed up less-than-perfectly, then went to the library, researched what the prof talked about, then went to office hours to see how much more learning I could squeeze from them.

Last semester I was lucky enough to have a few students who seemed to instinctively know that to get an education they would have to take initiative, come to office hours, branch out and learn things on their own.

Maybe this semester I'll have a few more of them.

And maybe, just maybe, they'll like coffee.