Sunrises and Citrus

The sunrise was beautiful this morning. I mean, how could a sunrise not be beautiful, right?

Over the past few years, I have cultivated an appreciation for sunrise. I used to think of sunrise as merely the opposite of a sunset, and sunsets don't require getting up early. But anymore, there's something special about watching the ink from the night sky get washed away, giving way to orange and pink splashed across the sky. And sunrises and sunsets are spectacular in central Florida - a delightful bonus of relocation from California. By virtue of my commute, I get the privilege of witnessing the sunrise almost every morning, except for summer and a few weeks surrounding daylight-savings changes. Today's sunrise was more vibrant than most. Enhanced by mid-level clouds, the orange in the east was like fire. It was short-lived, as many beautiful things are, without the flickers of pink that linger on higher clouds. There's much to being present for the dawn. As much as I enjoy sleeping in, too much makes me feel wasteful. Besides, how could you not be seduced by sunrise when you have a camera in your hand? Sunrise shots like this make the early alarm, jet lag battle, and pre-dawn driving escapades worthwhile.

In other news, I squeezed the most fantastic orange juice this weekend. Normally, freshly-squeezed juice is just thin, watery, and anemic. I pass a citrus stand ("Honor System - put your money in the box") twice a day on my drive to and from school. Friday, after a discussion of the merits of locally-grown produce, the stand proffered four large bags of tangelos. I stuffed my bills into the box and brought one home. The next morning, I thought I'd section a few, but my cutting was met with a deluge of juice. So, I put down the knife and reached instead for the reamer. Man oh man. This stuff was rich, full-bodied, incredible.

ISO Adjectives

I need an adjective.

Specifically, I need an adjective for my style.

More specifically, I need an adjective for our home decor style.

If I see something that is our style, I know it. But to describe that style in the absence of symbols? Kind of difficult. It's sort of Mission, but without the Spanish. It's sort of Arts-and-Crafts, without the country. It's sort of modern European, but without the Ikea. It's sort of eclectic, but with a bit of focus. We don't shy from bold color, as our red sofas, eggplant-purple door, and rich tones of paint on the walls attest. We definitely tend toward squared edges and straight lines, but not exclusively. We like classic stuff, but with a modern twist. We like modern stuff with a classic twist. It's not typical wicker-and-palms Florida. It's not over-the-top gilded rococo. It's not spartan minimalism. It's warm, comfortable, and inviting. At least, I think so. I need to get an independent opinion.

How to sum all this up in a label or four? (shrug) So come over and tell me what my style is. We need to throw a housewarming party anyhow - we'll just task our guests with the adjective search.

Fish, Clothing, and Emily Post

I think my fish is dying. I'm trying to stave off the death. The fish was part of a centerpiece at prom last year (not my idea); and a bunch of students (and I!) took home fishies that night. I kept him in a beaker in my classroom last spring. Named him Fred. But the beaker would get funky awfully quickly, so I bought a wee tank and filter for him. Starting a couple weeks ago, Fred's been pretty listless. It had been cold in the evenings, and the cool water was probably stressing him out. Lately, however, he's been hanging around behind the filter outlet, and not moving very much at all. I didn't see any telltale white splotches of ick, but upon further examination, he appears to have some sort of something on his back. I'm guessing it's some kind of fungus infection. I gave his tank a thorough cleaning, did some quick research on fish treatments, and found that methylene blue can be used to treat such afflictions. Hey, this chemistry teacher has plenty of that! I turned off the aquarium pump, too, hoping that still water will ease his irritation. We shall see...


Went to a Super Tuesday party last night. ABC was proclaiming winners of primaries with a mere 6% of precincts reporting. Never before have I witnessed such a steamrolling of data and statistics. But that's not my point. I didn't want to bother driving all the way home and all the way back to school and stayed out that way. Which meant I had to plan far in advance for dress-up Wednesday. And a warm Wednesday, too. I have a hard time selecting outfits one night ahead - invariably, I don't feel like wearing whatever I picked. Plus, I had to cart my morning necessities with me. I'm not that high-maintenance, but I do require some product. Anyhow, I had a feeling yesterday that I wasn't going to be satisfied with the clothing choice I'd packed for today. The suit I brought, I like it, but there was a loose button (which manifested itself as a wardrobe malfunction this morning, requiring a swift dash to the theatre costume shop for repair!). I didn't bring the belt, either, and I still don't know where that might be. Despite my poor clothing pick, I received several compliments today. I suppose just means I can disguise poor wardrobe choices well. Or at least make the best of them. It was a weird start to the day, too, outside of my typical routine. I was able to set my alarm for the time I'd ordinarily be leaving for school! Anyhow, driving into campus this morning, I had a strange sensation - almost as if I'd not left campus since the morning before. I suppose I use my drive as mental distancing from the school day more than I realize.


Finally, how is etiquette taught these days? I used to check out Emily Post volumes from the library as a middle-schooler. We had workshops in college designed to teach us luncheon etiquette and business communication. How else would you learn the proper ways to address a letter, what fork to use, or the right time to applaud during a concerto? I've heard some criticisms of social graces as effete elitist rules, however, I believe etiquette serves as a way to make people feel comfortable, not uncomfortable. It provides a structure in which to operate, where people know what's expected and can respond appropriately. (I have found no greater illustration of the value of clear expectations than in a classroom.) I could have used a crash course in military protocol at a former job, where I interacted with both active-duty and retired officers. I always felt unequipped and ignorant. Anyhow, soapbox aside, one thing I considered last year was Jennifer's Charm School, before prom, to give students an idea of what to do at a formal dinner dance. As much as we prepare students for college classrooms, I wonder whether we prepare them for life outside the classroom. Balancing a checkbook, addressing others when making introductions, interview and business etiquette. How do you learn this stuff if you're not an etiquette guidebook nerd?


It's that blah time in late winter, when the only food in season is citrus and root vegetables and casseroles. A time of transition in weather, too - our taste of the 80s the past couple of days reminds me I'm not quite ready for summer. It's no wonder I am not satisfied by my clothing choices!

A February Resolution

One thing I've decided I need to do is get back into reading scripture. I've been meaning to read Isaiah for years now, and I'm not going to wait any longer. I also have a brand-spanking-new annotated copy of G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy, plus a discussion partner. The rest of my "resolutions" have crashed and burned are still waiting for departure clearance, but this is one I'm determined to take action on sooner rather than later.



In other news, I'm planning to make pickles tomorrow with a group of students - sour pickles (with dill conspicuously absent from the recipe), sweet pickles, and some pickled fruit (plums and pears). I love me my crunchy, garlicky Polish dill pickles, but I have never liked sweet pickles. They're the scourge of the relish tray, along with the green olives. I'm going to give them a go, nonetheless (the pickles, not the olives). Perhaps fresh sweet pickles will change my mind. Anyhow, this pickling venture starts off a series of food-preservation activities that will include some jelly/jam. I'm leaning toward lemon marmalade - or perhaps a killer pear jam recipe I discovered last year. Few teenagers have ever made preserves at home, and it's fun to introduce them to something so (unfortunately) foreign to today's kitchen.

A 70% Chance of Scattered Thoughts

I'm restless. I spent all day in the chemistry lab (With a fantastic group of kids - the lab took 3x as long as it should have, and they really didn't complain. Complain to me, at least!), I realize I'm still grieving losses I thought I was over (though some external things are exacerbating it all right now - more on that at some point), and I'm very nearly though with the busiest week yet. I could really use a nap.

Since it's been a while since I posted anything , I don't quite know where to start. I still have a bunch of half-finished blog-starts. I'm distractable, but with nothing to distract. My phone battery is dead, my iPod battery is dead, I don't have any books I want to read, my google reader material has been read, and I have 30 minutes before I need to be somewhere. And I certainly don't want to do any work. So. Restlessness begets blogging, I suppose.

Jess and I defined the complementary difference in our personalities this week. I've long operated under the notion that I regret the things I don't do far more than I regret anything that I do. "Deliberate" is a positive character trait, to me. I mean, I rarely get into scrapes, try really hard not to put my foot in my mouth, make very thoughtful and safe decisions, and often think and think and think before I act or speak - sometimes never acting because I'm stuck thinking. Not that it's necessarily better than the alternative. Both have their clear advantages and disadvantages. Anyhow, we were discussing a good potential list - Things We Vow Never to Do Again. And I had a really hard time coming up with bullet points. I have an endless list of items on a list of Things I Wish I Had Done.

When I consider such a list, one thing that invariably comes up is a missed opportunity my senior year of college. Not so much a missed opportunity, but something I wish I'd played out a little longer, just to see where it could have gone. I was about to graduate, and I had been looking for employment. I'd had a couple interviews, including a completely insulting offer by a meteorological company that I will not name. One lead was particularly interesting, and particularly well-suited to my interests: a job forecasting weather for publication in two moderate-size Great-Lakes-Region city newspapers, plus writing feature weather articles. Have I mentioned my undergraduate research thesis on lake-effect snowfall climatology and my affinity for both forecasting and writing? Well. I had a couple e-mail exchanges with the person in charge of hiring for the position, including writing a sample weather article. Things were looking favorably, and I even found a nifty apartment in a converted row house in a genteel older part of one of the cities. But then, staying for graduate school started to present as the better option. I was getting married in a year, and I really did want a graduate degree. Seemed more prudent to stay. So I e-mailed the guy with whom I'd been corresponding, to let him know of my decision. And it's not like I regret for one second the path my life has taken since that decision - it's been infinitely better than I ever could have imagined, in extremely surprising ways - but I do wish I'd waited just a couple more weeks or so, to see whether I'd have been officially offered anything, and what the offer would have been. Interestingly, when I had finished my graduate work, I tried to get in contact with the papers, just to see if the position had ever been filled, and it had vaporized. No response from the guy, and it looks like the newspapers had contracted with an outside firm for their weather pages. It has been my experience that doors I'm not supposed to take shut clearly and firmly, pressing me onto a specific path. Here, however, was a door I feel I closed forever, of my own volition. And I slightly regret not opening the door a little wider and having taken a better look. It's a cost of the measure of free will we're given, I guess. The second-guessing, the wondering. Not that it plagues me, it's just one of those what-ifs that spark curiosity. And I can't know - maybe that door would have closed on its own, in time.

Another topic of discussion lately is the notion of "mine". As an only child, I have a keenly-developed sense of "mine". It's not like I had to share my toys with many people as I was growing up. Siblinged people have a much more finely-tuned sense of "my turn". I've learned to give more of myself and my possessions, but I hold some things quite precious, and that's not limited to what is tangible. Words, situations, time periods, too. Anyhow, here is my list of things that are MINE. Things I don't like people to touch, use, etc, for whatever reason.

Mine!
1. My pens.
I don't really like to lend my cheap G2s, much less my fountain pens. Besides, pens mold to their users' writing styles. It's like trying to wear secondhand shoes or something.
2. My calculator.
I've had it since high school. It's boss. And students walk off with calculators. Hence my rule that classroom calculator-borrowing requires collateral - a shoe. But my own personal calculator? You're far within the circle of trust if I let you use my TI-68.
3. My Galileo Thermometer.
It's not for picking up and shaking!
4. My letters of recommendation.
5. My car seat settings.