Life
As if this afternoon, I am officially employed at the Seattle Tennis Club. I took the bus down to Lake Washington, signed my soul away, and finalized my decision to stay in Seattle this summer. Not sure if I like the job yet (how could I? This job doesn't start for another couple weeks), but I love the neighborhood. It is quiet and beautiful with 15 foot tall hedges, shady mossy gardens (but almost no lawns), and birds that are still wary of people. This is a place of bluebirds, tiny shady parks, and boats worth more than I have earned in my entire life docked offshore from houses worth more than I will probably earn in the next 10 years. Ah well. At least I can still enjoy the shade their gardens cast on the sidewalk. Next time I will take my camera and walk around snapping pictures like a creepy person.
Apparently, I write new Raffi songs while I sleep. This morning, I woke up with music in my head. It went a little something like this: "Let's all go get cancer, yancer. Let's all go get cancer, it's the answer." What the hell was my subconscious thinking? Yancer isn't even a word.
So this job thing has a couple of impacts. It means I won't get to go home and visit the family this summer. Dang. It also means I will be able to afford summer classes, which I plan on taking here at UW. More pragmatically, it means I need to start looking for a place to stay. Maybe taking a page from the Jonathan McKay Urban Survival Manual And Personal Style Guide would not be such a bad idea.
Friday before last (4/20), I decided to make "special" brownies for the girls in the house. Of course, I lack easy access to certain requisite ingredients and the cajones to actually do anything illegal, so I just baked regular brownies instead. I made two batches, one from a box and one from scratch, just so I could say, "Well, these are regular ol' brownies, but I made these using my own special recipe. Would you like one?" Verily, I am a dork. Baking these has taught me something about how I'm percieved around here, though. A lot of the girls were very unsure of whether or not I would do such a thing, yielding responses like Mallory's. "Hahaha, very funny. Fake pot brownies! .... They are fake right?... right?" I kid around just enough to keep everyone guessing. Excellent.
I am trying my hand at building nested tetrahedra again. So far I am at the three tetrahedron phase. If all goes well, they will look something like this when they're all put together.
Apparently, I write new Raffi songs while I sleep. This morning, I woke up with music in my head. It went a little something like this: "Let's all go get cancer, yancer. Let's all go get cancer, it's the answer." What the hell was my subconscious thinking? Yancer isn't even a word.
So this job thing has a couple of impacts. It means I won't get to go home and visit the family this summer. Dang. It also means I will be able to afford summer classes, which I plan on taking here at UW. More pragmatically, it means I need to start looking for a place to stay. Maybe taking a page from the Jonathan McKay Urban Survival Manual And Personal Style Guide would not be such a bad idea.
Friday before last (4/20), I decided to make "special" brownies for the girls in the house. Of course, I lack easy access to certain requisite ingredients and the cajones to actually do anything illegal, so I just baked regular brownies instead. I made two batches, one from a box and one from scratch, just so I could say, "Well, these are regular ol' brownies, but I made these using my own special recipe. Would you like one?" Verily, I am a dork. Baking these has taught me something about how I'm percieved around here, though. A lot of the girls were very unsure of whether or not I would do such a thing, yielding responses like Mallory's. "Hahaha, very funny. Fake pot brownies! .... They are fake right?... right?" I kid around just enough to keep everyone guessing. Excellent.
I am trying my hand at building nested tetrahedra again. So far I am at the three tetrahedron phase. If all goes well, they will look something like this when they're all put together.