The Wormlips Scrapbook

I keep forgetting that magnificent terrain lies within spitball’s distance of home. It took Anna and me only three hours to get to Sorensen’s in Hope Valley. I haven’t been here since Molly was six weeks old. We’re staying in Rock Creek cabin. Why is it called “Rock Creek Cabin?” Molly might ask. Well, because it’s perched at the side of Rock Creek and it’s a cabin. “Yeah, but what other reason?”

I packed way too much food. We wafted in here, a pair of sylphlike apparitions. We will leave here rolling, heavily.

I continue to be boring and lifeless so I don’t even know why I’m attempting to write here. Here are some photos. You’ll see a couple of the French braids I did on Anna’s bean, at her request. I don’t know how unusual it is for there to be snow at 7,000 feet in the Sierra in May, but we had a nice dusting on the day of our arrival. You’ll see proof in some of the photos, most of which are from a short hike Anna and I took along the Indian Head trail just behind Sorensen’s. You’ll also see a photo of Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake, both of which we visited yesterday.The only wildlife we saw only were some black-headed birds that I think were junkos and a yellow-bellied marmot. I’d like to ask: How do you pronounce “marmot”? Anna and I are in strong disagreement, and nothing has shaken my absolute confidence that I’m right.

While I was looking up the pronunciation just now, I came upon this marmot picture on Wikipedia.

For those of you who want to know the answer to the marmot question, here it is, in layperson’s terms: mahr-muh t. I won’t say if it was Anna or I who was correct, because I’m not the type of person who likes to gloat.

Anna is a silly little thing. A significant percentage of her clothes have stars or stripes on them. She is quite adorable. She takes good care of me. Like, I have a meditation CD for people who are depressed. “Shall we do our meditation now?” “Would you like to knit now?” “Are you hungry?”

My last blog entry was nearly a year ago, so what the heck: I’ll stop by and say hello. Topically, I’m gonna leap around like a playful deer, or perhaps a bee, flying from one idea to the next. ‘Kay?

As we were coming in for a landing on today’s flight to Oakland, my seatmate was watching out her window. Suddenly she took her husband by the arm and spoke with emotion:

“Golf courses must the most beautiful places—in the world.”

What’s all this talk about planes? Well, I just got back from three days in Washington state visiting G2. The adventure did not begin well. As I got on the plane I felt a little queasy. Just before takeoff, I negotiated with the flight attendant to get permission to use the restroom. Since I was at the front of the plane, I had to choose the first-class bathroom, which is an act that doesn’t win you friends in that sector of airplane society.

Before we landed  I armed myself a bevvy of puking supplies. Luckily, I didn’t have to use any of them, and I was fine all the way till we hit terra firma, but then it was: blaaargh. “Hello, Washington!”

G2 picked me up and we headed back toward her house in Renton, where I was to meet, for the very first time, her boyfriend, M. I do believe I made an indelible first impression. As he came to the front door, I suddenly veered and ran under a bush, and presented myself only after communing with nature for sufficient time. There’s no one in the world more neurotically reserved than I am in the arc of restroom activities. However, today my level of self-consciousness plunged. I felt worse as the day wore on and cared less who knew it. G2 and M acted as though this was how a visit was supposed to go. I would like to note for posterity that M was gallant, bringing this stranger tea, consoling me, reassuring me, and generally being stunningly warm to his new friend. G2 was no slouch, either. I alternately slept and puked for the remainder of the day.

Because of a shortage of beds, G2 had to share with me. Luckily, no harm came to her. Coincidentally, each night I was visiting, both G2 and I had richly detailed anxiety dreams about teaching: teaching two classes at exactly the same moment (G2′s dream); allowing your student to go surfing during class, and then watching helplessly as she drowns (My dream).

I don’t feel like writing because I feel aggressively boring. So let me think about any particular highlights that can stand alone like little arms, signposts toward a larger story or signposts toward nowhere, depending.

• Arm One: G2 did all the driving in a rental car, a Dodge Avenger. I spent some time ruminating about what the car’s name says about our national psyche.
• Arm Two: Our destination on the Olympic Peninsula was, I learned, famous. Its massive amount of annual rainfall led to its being chosen as the movie set for Twilight, a series of films about teenaged vampires. Vampires prefer rainy gloom to sunny cheer, you see, so this locale was deemed ideal for a whole heap of bloodsucking. Much of the area (rainforest and sandy coastline) is Indian reservation (the Quileute tribe). Twilight has brought a bit of money into the community, but not enough to change its spirit. The place seemed vacant, soulless: inhabited but not lived in.
• Arm Three: We did a whole lot of sleeping and binging on junk food, and very little movement of the body. I for one was overwhelmingly tired, perhaps caused by medications. I think my lack of energy was contagious.
• Arm Four: Gen proved, over and over again, that she likes homemade s’mores.
• Arm Five: It was strange to see the rainforest on such sunny, hot, dry days.
• Arm Six: Here are some photos. That’s all the comprehensive you get. This blog-writing takes more time and obsessing than I remembered. Click on the photos and they’ll pop in a new window. Click on that photo and it will grow, just like a child.

On Tuesday, May 23, 2012, Lulu started a new job. She has had some important jobs before now, but this is her first post-graduate Big Girl job, and she found it all by herself. She is editor and producer for care2.com, “the largest online community for healthy and green living, human rights and animal welfare.” It is a dangerous place to visit, a sea of time-sucking vortexes. I found, for example, a collection of videos of Bad Dogs. I liked it so much that I had to edit it and string the pieces together.

[Click three times to start.]

I, too, started a new job, and on the same day as Molly. However, it is not my first Big Girl job. I’m still at the English Language Institute but I have different responsibilities. I’ll still be teaching, but only half-time. The other half will  be administrative. It’s “a 12-month temporary Classified Management position.” Wait. Let me look that up. Okay, “classified” refers to  non-teaching roles. Also, it’s “100% exempt.” Hang on a second. Here we go: “Exempt employees are salaried employees who supervise or manage other employees as a regular part of their job. Non-exempt employees do not supervise or manage other employees. Exempt employees generally do not receive overtime pay.” Ooooh, see how much I’m learning already! My “starting salary is [$****], which is Step 1 of Range B17 on the Management salary schedule.” I wonder if you can say the same.

Enough about bureaucracy and on to substance. My official title is Assistant Program Manager/Instructor. The scope of my role is still somewhat amorphous, but it’ll relate to enrollment, outreach and curriculum. All of it will be illuminating, and I expect a lot of it to be downright fun. I don’t mean to sound Pollyanna or anything, but I’ve been fortunate to have landed at Ohlone.