n e n i e

On a side note, how BULLSHIT is it that the Braves can't sell out their fucking NLDS games? I don't care if you've won 12 straight divisional titles. Fucking SHOW UP to the playoffs. I am now a proponent of homefield being conditional. Consider it a corollary to the NFL homefield blackout rule.

If you are unable to sell out your home games a week in advance of the playoffs starting, your team thereby loses homefield advantage for that round. It's that simple. If your fans refuse to be part of the the homefield advantage, the advantage should go to the team what will use it. If nothing else, it will cause teams to donate their left over tickets to charities so that kids who will appreciate the tix will get in for free.

Yeah, it'll never happen. But tell me I'm wrong.

Posted by nenie at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Going into tonight's Monday Night Football game against the Packers, the Bears hadn't lost a game in 15 days. 15 whole days without a loss. Granted, they didn't play anyone in those 15 days, but it was nice to go that long without being embarassed.

Plus, Vegas was giving the Bye Week a +3.5pt spread over the Bears. Yup, if anyone could lose during a week where they didn't play, it'd be the 2003 Chicago Bears.

I'm kicking myself because I worked my ass off trying to get enough work done so I could watch the game. Was that ever a mistake. It was painful, and all the more so because of the sleep depravation that I endured to be able to watch the game. Just unbelieveable. These guys have no idea what they're doing on the field. As my boy CK said a few minutes ago. "Good thing they didn't fire John Shoop last year, now they get to fire him and Jauron together." And it's true. Some analyst on ESPN said tonight that "Shoop is outmatched every week. . .the Bears are the worst team in football right now."

I couldn't agree more. I'd take my Jayhawks over these jokers any day. Urlacher would get quadruple teamed by the Jayhawks, and the resulting three open Bears wouldn't know who to hit or what to do. It's pathetic.

Ugh, so fucking ugly.

Not Soldier Field. She looks incredible. Yes, it's an odd architectural statement on the outside, but it's the best of both worlds. The distinctive exterior of the old place, with an actual nice stadium inside. I like Soldier Field as much as the next guy, but I have to admit, the old place was a dump. This looks so much more badass. I can't wait to try it out. I guess I'll have to do a December home game to find out. WHOO!

Unfortunately, on opening night, the Bears just couldn't do a damn thing. And that was a shame. So many fans there, so many folks excited about playing in Chicago again, and nope, nothing. The team just didn't show up. Just pathetic. They should've suited up Butkis, Singletary, Wilson and the rest of them up. They were there, they were on the sidelines, they would have been better than what was out there. At the very least they would have understood that you should WANT to beat the Packers. Just pathetic.

Posted by nenie at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The Cubs retired Ron Santo's number 10 today. It's only the third number they've ever retired, and the first for someone who hasn't been elected to the Hall of Fame first. Attention HoF voters, GET THE MESSAGE.

The city of Chicago doesn't retire numbers. Bob Love, Michael Jordan, Walter Payton, Harold Baines, Luke Appling, Luis Aparicio, Nellie Fox, Bobby Hull, Tony Esposito, Stan Mikita, Dennis Savard, Glenn Hall. These are the bulk of non-Cubs numbers retired in this city. We don't make like the Yankees and start retiring batboys.

Before today, the Cubs had retired Ernie Banks and Billy Williams. No Tinkers, Evers, or Chance. No Fergie Jenkins, or Ryne Sandberg. Just two white flags with blue pinstripes flying from the foul poles. Today, Mr. Cub's flag has company on that pole, Ron Santo.

I'm too young to have ever seen him play the game, but I grew up listening to him on the radio. His is the voice of the fan, the true fan, the one that lives and more often than not dies with the Cubs. This is a man who played baseball at the highest level with diabetes, who has lost both legs to the disease, and keeps going. The man's prosthetic legs are painted to look like Cubs jerseys, one home, one away. In a word, Ron Santo is hardcore. He was hardcore before there was a strap for it. He's elevated it to an artform. And for that, I salute you Mr. Santo.

Maybe the pain of 1969's been lessened a bit by the events of 2003. Maybe the sting of not being admitted into the HoF has started to numb with the retiring of his number. I don't know if either of this is the case. This guy is a fan, first and foremost so 69 may never stop hurting, and maybe it doesn't matter if the Hall never calls. He's living out dream for us, and being kind enough to give us play by play along the way.

I can't wait for my next trip home, my next trip to Wrigley, so I can see a true fan's number flying above us all. Thank you for your example, sir. It's meant the world to so many of us.

Posted by nenie at 05:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Before I get started, thanks to Minervacat for the use of the picture to the left. She was out on Saturday taking pictures of the mayhem in Wrigleyville.

I've been kinda busy, and as a result, behind on things I've wanted to post up here. I have a bit of a time right now, and so rather than revise Almejor's personal statment, I'm blogging. Sorry Al, I'm sure you'll understand. . .it's been a big few days here in L-Town.

First off, my Cubs won the National League Central. I'm still in a bit of shock over this one. It seems like it was only yesterday that Fesser and I were chatting about Spring Training, and the Cubs' impending season. "This year isn't next year, next year is next year," we decided all those months ago. Yet, here the Cubs are, NL Central Division Champions. It's a bit surreal to me.

I called my parents on Saturday night, they weren't drunk but I don't think they've been this happy in a very long time. The Cubs won the Central, and joy breaks out in nenie's household. Even my brother, the least Cubbie of us all, is enjoying this. He called me from work on Saturday. "What station is the Cubs game on? We want to watch at work, and none of us watch baseball, but I knew you'd know." Cubs baseball, it's a family affair.

Just an amazing few days. This is what fandom is all about, suffering and redemption. The Cubs haven't won a divisional title since I was 10. Before that, I was 5. Both times, I thought this was the start of something special. Both times, I thought that this was finally the beginning of New Cubs Order. Each time, I was proven wrong.

When I was 5, these guys were my heros. Sandberg, Bowa, Matthews, Durham, Sutcliff, Smith, Cey, Davis. . .I was 5 years old and these men could do no wrong. Even when they lost their 2-0 lead over the Padres in the NLCS, I figured we'd be back next year. . .

When I was 10, these guys were my heros. Sandberg, Grace, Dunston, Maddox, Girardi, Dawson. . .I was 10 years old and these men could do no wrong. Even when they lost to the Giants in the NLCS, I figured we'd be back next year. . .

There was the Wild Card when I was in college. The redemption over the Giants, but it wasn't enough. The Braves dismantled us in the NLDS, and by then, I knew that we wouldn't be back anytime soon. I'd learned to gather the proverbial rosebuds. It's just the way it is for a Cubs fan. You enjoy what you have, and cautiously ask for more, never expecting it, you've been hurt before, so you don't fall all the way.

Every win is a surprise. I still expect the Cubs to win it all, but each of the 13 steps toward that goal will come as a complete and utter shock. That's the only way to stay sane.

Go Cubs, it's been an incredible ride, keep going. I'm with you all the way. I wish I could be there, watching the joy back home fills me with an indescribable happiness. Seeing the people dancing in the streets, the lack of looting, makes me cry with joy. These are my people, this is my home. I miss you all.

Posted by nenie at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Check the picture there, yeah, the impossible has occured, KU took Mizzou down today. That was one of the best football games I've seen in a very, very long time. I'm still coming down from the high, 12 hours after kickoff. It's been a long, long day.

7a- Alarm clock goes off. I hadn't reset it from its Friday setting. I reset the alarm and go back to sleep.

7:54a- I wake up, and am unable to get back to sleep. There's football to we watched. I decided to stop fighting it and get my ass out of bed.

8a- While in the shower, I hear my alarm clock start to go off.

8:45a- I start driving around campus, looking for any availible (free) street parking. Nothing. It's quarter to nine in the morning, kickoff is at 11:40, and there isn't a damn free spot to park anywhere. It was worse than Wrigleyville on a game day. Truly amazing.

9a- I park 'Turo in the Allen Fieldhouse garage. It's free on game days, since it's a re-cock-ulous trek up the hill, and back down the hill from Allen to Memorial Stadium. I parked next to three brothers who'd driven 3hrs from downstate to come to the game.

The two older ones were in their late teens/early 20s, and the youngest was maybe 10 or 11. We were talking about the game, when they said something that dawned on me. The sell-out crowd at today's game would be more than double their entire county's population. Memorial Stadium seats 50,071. Neosha County, KS has roughly 20,000 people in it. This trip had been built up for the younger one as his first trip to the holiest of shrines. KU.

This thought left me in awe. I've never had that kind of relationship with a school. For people around here, KU is their school. Many of the people in this state that I've met have a sense of ownership and more importantly kinship with this institution. The dream is to be a part of KU, being a Kansan is the first step, attending is the second.

Growing up in Illinois, I didn't have that kind of relationship with the U of I. It wasn't my school, it didn't represent me. I started to think that this relationship was similar to the one I have with my beloved Cubs. But then I realized, as we began our descent down Mount Oread, and into the shadow of the Campanelle, that this relationship ran deeper than mine with the Cubs. All I can ever hope to be is a Cubs fan. KU fans can aspire to be part of KU, part of the tradition.

9:17a- Meet up with Ulli at the student gate. We stand and talk for a few minutes, and realize that we really should get in line. The gates open at 10a, and the line is already stretching a quarter of the way around Memorial Stadium.

9:36a- Some guys come by selling the Tshirts in the picture to some guys covered in body paint. The bodypaintguys also have a Tigger on a noose, that they invite people to come up and kick. Yeah, kick the Tiger. Also of note is the verbal abuse Mizzou fans are made to endure when they walk past the Student line. My favorite line was "Hey buddy, nice SWEATER VEST."

10a- Gates open

10:05a- I have breakfast. A hotdog, with mustard. MMMMM, stadium hotdogs. When I was purchasing breakfast, the woman at the concessions stand asked me if I was sure I didn't want a Polish Sausage. "No thank you," I said, "It's a bit too early for a Polish."

We make our way to our seats in the General Admission Student Section. on the 40, 30th row. Abso-freakin'-lutely BEEE-YOU-TEE-FULL.

11a ish- The spectacle that is college football begins to unfold before me. Mizzou's band is here, I become friends with the folks sitting near me. Many of them decked out in the traditional "Muck Fizzou" shirts, the stands begin to swell, the alma mater is sung, and the first "Rock Chalk Jayhawk" is chanted.

As all of this goes on, I can't help but begin to feel a sense of belonging here. I understand how ritual works, I understand how mob mentality works. But all the same, I find myself wanting to forget that I know these things. All around me is a family, coming to support their team, their school. And for the first time it dawns on me. I'm a Jayhawk. I sing along, shout along, clap along and even tear up during the pre-intro video. This is going to be a fun day.

The game starts out pretty shittily. KU misses an extra point after scoring first, their porous D allows Mizzou to march right back down the field to take the lead. KU misses an easy field goal on a terrible snap. The fucking thing BOUNCED before the holder could grab it. This caused me to say to my neighbors, "I've got four years of eligibility left, I was a long snapper for a year in HS, you think they'd take me?"

"Why the hell are you still up here with pads on? Get down there, they need you." was the reply.

The game moved along pretty nicely, and I spent time explaining football to THE GERMANS. They're trying to see America, and they knew that this game would be a prime example of the stereotypical college experience. . .so they went. And had me to explain things to.

But what a game. Back and forth, until KU came out of the locker room at the half, determined to make this one count. They had their first home sell out of a non Nebraska game since 1975, and they weren't going to waste it. They played on, until it happened.

Up by 14, late in the fourth, KU picked up its first sack of the day. The crowd went insane, Mizzou punted, and the crowd proved what a KU homefield advantage really is. They unleashed "Rock Chalk Jayhawk" on an unsuspecting Mizzou team.

Listen to it, it's scary as hell. Now imagine 40,000 people chanting, in unison, on a beautifully clear autumnal Saturday. At Memorial Stadium. The very foundation of the old building reverberated, the tones were like the demons of hell rising up to reposses the souls of the wicked. The Jayhawk football team put an exclamation point on the win, as Mizzou ceded the TD while the KU faithful chanted their way through the drive.

I don't think any written explanation of the instantaneous erruption of the chant can do it justice. It was one of the most awe-inspiring events I've ever seen. Haunting, beautiful, poetic and frightening. Beauty is terror Freesia would say. I can now say, in all honesty, that beauty has a theme song. And the words are "Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, KU."

2:30p ish- KU winds down the clock on a 35-14 drubbing of the 23rd ranked Mizzou Tigers. The Jayhawks huddled at the 50 while the fans poured onto the field. First stop, the goalposts.

Last year, at Mizzou, KU lost. After the game, Mizzou fans ran onto the field and tore down their goalposts. A number of Mizzou players assisted in this effort. KU felt a bit disrespected by this, so when our turn came, the players left it to the fans to celebrate on the field. They just kneeled down and took a moment to appreciate the immensity of what they'd just accomplished. Meanwhile, the fans jumped on the goalposts until the suckers gave way. First, they took down the south goalpost, and they carried it off the field towards the pond. Then, they looked around, and saw the north posts still up. Faster than the first went down, they had this one too, raised up on their shoulders. They took it apart into three smaller pieces, and ran off into the afternoon sunlight with them.

3p- Ulli, Sarah and I walk down onto the field and look around us. Complete chaos reigns. But no one's hurting anyone, or anything. Save for those defenseless goalposts. My mother calls, the Cubs are one win away from taking the NL Central title. This is a really good day. The three of us decide to walk back to 'Turo so we can get to our next event of the day. The Royals/White Sox game in KC. On our way, we stop to look at the hole where the south goalposts once stood. Yeah. . .

3:30p- We load up 'Turo and drive off.

6p- We finally make it to the K. We ran into 3 traffic jams between L-Town and KC. K10 was a complete nuthouse with construction everywhere. We stopped to eat at the world's slowest Burger King, and we were completely drained by the football drubbing we'd just attended. We get to the gate, get in, and buy scorecards. Tonight's project is to teach THE GERMANS about baseball. My tool will be teaching them how to keep score.

7:03p- There it is, on the scoreboard. CUBS WIN!!! My beloved Cubs have won the NL Central Division. There are no words. Sadly, no one around me understands how big this is. Oh well, some things are best celebrated with one's self.

9:06p- Tired of my upper deck row V, behind the plate seats, I decide to teach THE GERMANS about trading up. The Royals were down by 13 or somesuch, so fans had started leaving during the 7th Inning Stretch, I decide to make our move. We decend down to the lower deck, and help ourselves to some nice, 20th or so row seats, directly behind home plate. MUCH better.

9:45p- We leave the K, headed for Waffle House.

10:10p- I introduce my friends to the Waffle House. And more importantly, to Waffle House Hashbrowns.

10:50p- I get home. Man, am I tired. It's been an incredible day. And one I don't think I've expressed all that eloquently. Oh well. It's bedtime, now.

Posted by nenie at 11:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Blame Alphasarah

nenie spins tunes as DJ Slim Mochaccino Get your dj name @ Quiz Me

What more can I say?

Posted by nenie at 08:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

It's been a busy few days here in L-Town, but I've been hangin' pretty tough. WHOO! I've now worked an NKOTB referrence into the blog. My life is complete. . .anyway.

The Germans and I are doing a huge sports Saturday this weekend. The KU/Mizzou game is at 11a, and then the Royals play the White Sox at 6p. Yup, we're doing both. Since we're students, though we've been trying to scam free tix to the Border War. As of noon today, we'd only succeeded in getting one free ticket, so we resigned ourselves to actually paying cash money for the rest of the tix we'd need.

This is where my day gets interesting. Having never actually purchased a ticket to a college football game (and I've been to more than a few) I was at a loss as to how to proceed. I was sitting in my office, researching how this gets done in modern society, when my officemate Corn walks in. Corn's a good guy from the ATL, and in his own words he "lives by [his] hustle."

Long story short, Corn was gonna see some people this afternoon who might be able to produce free football tickets. He tells me to call him after my class that afternoon, and he'll let me know what he can do. Happy with this, I head off to the Bookstore to take advantage of the 30% Touchdown Tuesday sale. Yup, every Tuesday, they give 5% off for every TD the Jayhawks score the previous Saturday. Thanks Div I-AA Jacksonville State, I have a really nice KU sweatshirt now.

Class ends and I call Corn up. No go on the Border War tix, but he DID come up with a whole bunch of tickets to see Janet Reno at the Lied Center later that night, did I want one? Well, I shot a woman named Reno. . .

So I went to see Janet Reno tonight. It was totally worthwhile. Her talk was inspiring, enlightening, and renewed my conviction to making this world a better place. Being that she is a lawyer, and was brought here by the law school, her talk was focused on the good that lawyers can do in this world. But the lessons she taught went beyond just the law.

Her commitment to education, to breaking the cylce of violence that is endemic of patriarchy, of making this world safer and freer for all is truly staggering. She took Ashcroft to task, admitted she'd made mistakes in Waco, and showed that true leaders are big enough to admit their faults, and smart enough to learn from them. She's my new hero right now. Right below my parents and above Ron Santo. Albeit barely.

A few stories. . .and expect a longer rant fueled by her remarks later this week.

She told the story of when she was 8, and her mother realized that their house was too small for her family. Unable to purchase a new house, she set out to build a new one. When Janet asked her mother if she knew anything about construction or plumbing or masonry, her mother replied, "No, but I'm willing to learn."

And learn she did. Reno's parents learned all they needed and built the family a new house. A house Reno's mother lived in until she died in late 92/ early 93. When Hurricane Andrew came in 1992, Reno's mother sat in the living room, while the winds howled outside. She refused to move from the living room, she was unafraid. "Janet, I built this house the right way, I didn't cut any corners. It'll be fine." And it was. The next morning, they went out and looked around. The neighborhood looked "like a WW I battlefield." But their house was fine. They'd only lost a shingle in the night.

Building things the right way. Reno echoed something I'd been raised to believe. If we educate children the right way, from the beginning, we'll be better off down the road. Children learn so much of what they know in the first three years of life; if we take the time and money to ensure proper immunization, health care and education for children when they start out, we're going to save money on remedial education and prisons later on. From Janet Reno's mouth to God's ears.

And now a quote before I go to bed.

"If we can afford $87 Billion for Iraq, then we can afford to pay for education in this country."

Posted by nenie at 12:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Reason number 301 I'm glad I have Nena in my life.

She's in town this weekend, and we left my place to go get some frozen custard down at Sheridan's. We stopped to put gas in Will, and as we pull out of the gas station, I switch the station to NPR. KCUR has a really great old Soul and R&B show on either Friday or Saturday nights from 8-10 or somesuch. So I turned on the radio to figure out which night it's on

It's Friday. On Saturday nights, its the easy listening show. They were playing a great acoustic version of The Doors' "Light My Fire." It was really pretty brilliant. So Nena, in her infinite brilliance, rolls down all the windows, and turns the volume ALL the way up. Yup, she decided to cruise to Muzak.

How can you not love this woman.

Posted by nenie at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yesterday's drained feeling hasn't gone away. I slept really well, and then my mom called me 10 mins before my alarm clock went off. It kinda threw my whole day off. I got ready for work/school in record time, and had 25mins to kill before the bus came. . .all the while thinking that there was something that I was forgetting to do.

On the bus, I remember. Food, I'd forgotten to eat breakfast. Yeah, this was going to hurt. Class went by, and I ran to Wescoe Terrace to get something to eat. They didn't have any sushi that called out to me so I settled for a ham sandwhich. Yes, I went from a spicy crab roll craving, to a ham and provelone on wheat. . .gotta love KU.

The rest of the day went by, and I went home, made dinner and got really, really tired. I had all this reading to do and I couldn't stay awake. So I took a nap. I've never been a power napper, but tonight it just clicked. Thanks to Nena. She called about 20mins into my nap.

After that, I was a reading MAH-CHINE, it was intense. I read straight until about 11p when I had a DQ craving. I drove to DQ, not open. Then to HyVee to get me some groceries. Bought some basics, and headed home. Now, I'm still wide awake and ready to keep on reading. WHOO!

Kinda funny how my day has turned on the women in my life calling and waking me up. I'm sure that says something about my life, or is symbolic or something. But right now I'm too immersed in WW II and Depression history to figure it out.

Posted by nenie at 12:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Tuesdays are strange days. My weekends are so busy that by the time Tuesday comes around, it feels like Thursday and I don't want to do a whole lot. Add to this, the fact that I don't have class until 2p on Tuesdays and life is just a bit wack for moi.

Got up this morning, revised a paper, did some stuff, revised it again, showered, revised it again, did some stuff, watched the first half of Raw, went to class. Class was good, turned in my paper, left class, was totally drained and hungry, went to Target bought some stuff, went home, and made the crucial decision.

Tonight was my night off.

The book in the bar to the left of this post is wicked long. It's 700 or so pages of American history; excellently written American history at that. I'm just too tired to do it right now. When I got home, I watched The West Wing on Bravo, finished that Raw from last night, killed my brain with some The OC, did some paperwork for the class I'm TAing, and some other internet stuff. Oh, and I watched the Cubs game while doing all of that. Yeah, it's been a good night. I'll probably read before I go to bed, and tomorrow I'll pay for all this freedom, but I really don't care right now. Sometimes you just needs some "me" time.

In other news, will the Astros lose, I mean COME ON. They're on a ROLL right now. Yes, the Cubs keep winning, but that 1.5 game lead looks insurmountable right now. Yup, good time to be a Cubs fan, I tell you.

Posted by nenie at 10:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's my father's birthday. As such, here's a post about him. . .

I ride the bus to school a few times a week. I havenˆ‚t ridden a bus to school in almost 10 years at this point. But there I am, at the bus stop, a few times a week. These arenˆ‚t the yellow school buses of my youth, however. These buses are public transit at its finest. Old buses, whoˆ‚ve been put out to pasture by their respective municipalities and given a fresh coat of paint and new life here in L-Town. These buses remind me of the old Chicago Transit Authority buses. The big, green, lumbering transports that inhabit the Chicago of my childhood memories. Now that I think about it, a few of the KU buses are painted in the multi-tonal green of the old CTA buses.

My father rode the CTA to class when he was an undergrad. Rather, I like to tell myself he did, while Iˆ‚m riding my bus to school these days. I like to think of him hopping on one of those big multi-tonal green monsters up and down Addison 30 years ago. I see Papo there in the heat of the Chicago summer, and the cold of the winter, hiking down Ottawa to Addison, and waiting in whatever weather, waiting for his bus. My knowledge of Papoˆ‚s life before there was a Nenie tells me that itˆ‚s not all that likely that he rode the bus to class all that often. He had an old VW Beetle at the time, a car as legendary in my family as Arturo. All the same, though, I donˆ‚t see that car when Iˆ‚m on the bus in the morning. I see a bus.

Freshman year of college, I was walking home from downtown NFLD. I hadnˆ‚t bothered to unpack my serious winter gear, and it had turned cold on me by October 15th. As I wandered home from the Monday, up the hill and through the residential district that lay between my warm bed and myself it started to snow. Light, wispy flakes started to float down through the perfectly dark sky. What little light there was around me served only to catch the glimmer of the white flakes. It looked like the stars were all around me, moving in slow motion, just close enough to touch. Since I hadnˆ‚t unearthed my winter gear, I was wearing a few tshirts under my favorite grey hoodie, topped off with my royal blue and red windbreaker.

Papo used to have a parka that my mother told us heˆ‚d had since he was an undergrad all those many years ago. It was royal blue with a red lining. I loved that coat. Nothing reminds me of my father the way that coat does; itˆ‚s emblematic of everything a little boy thinks of when he sees his father. Warmth, strength, and compassion: how many times had I shoveled walkways, looking for that blue blur in the distance. How many times had I used that blue as a target in a snowball fight, or looked for that color when school let out. Even now, I think of that coat sometimes and marvel at its size; it was larger than life just like Papo was and continues to be.

There I was, walking through the darkened streets, my breath hanging in the air, the stars close enough to touch, and me in my windbreaker; a windbreaker Iˆ‚d picked out because of its uncanny resemblance to my fatherˆ‚s parka. Walking through the darkened streets, the snow twinkling all around me, I began to imagine that this is something my father had done. I imagined him walking home in the snow, just as I was, clad in a big blue and red coat. I became so engrossed in this image that I half expected to end up at my Aunt Patˆ‚s doorstep, not the front door to my dorm. I can honestly say that I felt like an adult for the first time that night.

Iˆ‚d been battling a pretty severe case of homesickness at the time. My high school sweetheart had left me the week before, midterms were coming up, and the frosh on my floor didnˆ‚t really like me all that much. This college thing was turning out to be a pretty raw deal for me. Walking home that night, surrounded by this magical snow, I found the strength to deal with my unhappiness. It was the vision of my puffy, blue-clad arm that snapped me out of it. For a split second, there in the crisp Minnesota night, I had mistaken my own arm for that of my father and in the misrecognition; I felt a deep connection to my hero.

From that day forward Iˆ‚d have moments where I would suddenly feel a connection to my father because of what I was engaged in at the time. Working on a paper, teaching a class, driving my car. . . In those moments Iˆ‚d feel he was with me, no matter where I was, and that he was proud of what I was doing.

I know that my father is always proud of me that I donˆ‚t have to do anything or be anything to make him happy. But thatˆ‚s the thing with fathers and sons; my father is my hero. I think of what heˆ‚s done and where heˆ‚s been and I only wish that I could be that strong, that I could do that much. Every break I have in this life: breaks that he didnˆ‚t have, more often than not, I owe to him in some way or another. All I can do is hope I do as well with the cards heˆ‚s helped deal me.

There I am, riding the bus; thinking about my father riding the bus, all those years ago. I ride the bus and smile, I can feel him here with me and that feeling is there to remind me, that Iˆ‚m going the right way.

Posted by nenie at 09:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Strange morning for me. I woke up, called Nena and found out that both Johnny Cash and John Ritter had passed away over night. Just a bizarre way to start your day.

John Ritter. . .will he ever be anyone other than Jack Tripper off of Three's Company? I don't think so, but that's alright I think. I'm part of a generation that saw him daily in syndication. Early and mid 80s syndication was a strange world, one that Billy Pilgrim would have been right at home in. Every afternoon, UHF stations were truly unstuck in time. You could move backwards and forwards through the past 10 years of TV, never really sure where you were. If you were young enough to not understand syndication, you'd have no idea that these episodes weren't chronological, or even original. It was a strange time, to be sure. And in my mind, Ritter will always be associated with that time. Is that a tribute? Is that how he'd want to be remembered. I have no clue, but that's the way it is.

J.R. Cash has been with us since February 26, 1932. He started out in Kingsland, Arkansas and left us from Nashville, Tennessee. The story of that 416 mile journey is one that has profoundly shaped the sound of music in this nation today. Cash spent his 40+ years as a performer as a rebel, a Christian, and an everyman.

I came late to the Cash game. It wasn't until 1997 that I ever really bothered to listen to the Man in Black, and when I did, there was just something about his voice. It spoke to the scared 18 year old me. Over the years, I've listened to him more and more. His voice was one that was unafraid, aware of what was coming for him, and resigned to that fact. Even with that resignation, there was always the undercurrent of hope. It's what moves me when I hear "I Walk the Line" or "Hurt."

I don't think any of us thought this was an unexpected occurance, but all the same I think many of us were hoping for one more album, a few more years. But, after his wife passed on, I don't think he was long for this world. . .but what the hell do I know, I'm some punk in Kansas who's never met the man. Strangely, though I really feel like I have, thanks to his music. More than just about anyone else, I feel like I knew this man through his voice.

Posted by nenie at 07:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As hard is may be to believe, there are actually other sites on the internet. And I actually read them. . .OK, OK enough of that. Seriously though, I've run across a few brilliant things on the net recently, and I thought I'd share. The first is a quote from an ESPN.com's Page 2 article about their recent reviews of every Major League Ballpark.

In the far corners of the Metrodome and Skydome tonight, there are dozens of kids perched on the edge of their seats wearing baseball gloves. They have no chance at a ball, but still, they sit at attention like brave, vigilant knights. That's the ballpark thing: faith and devotion.

That's an amazing thing, faith and devotion. Imagine a world where everyone was a kid with a baseball glove. A world where everyone has faith and devotion. It'd be an amazing place.

The second piece is the Angora Rabbit Site. It's just a collection of pictures of best in show angora rabbits. It's just silly, and it was provided to me by my cousin, DOK-TOR CRUZ!!!! Yeah, it's a pretty silly name, but we think it fits her nicely. Doesn't it sound like a GI Joe villian, too?

QuickKick: Look out Lady Jay, here comes Destro and DOK-TOR CRUZ!!!!

Lady Jay: OH NO!!!!

Word.

Posted by nenie at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I'm not one of those wear a flag lapel pin types. I'm not someone who goes for all the memorial stuff on TV. I'm pretty much living in a media blackout today, for work-related reasons. But I did want to put something up here. Maybe something new will go up later, tonight or tomorrow or something.

Here, then, is a reprint of what I posted to my website 2 years ago today. After a long day of consoling confused teenagers, and watching TV.

9.11.01: Something About Process

process
something about
process

i've been told many times in my short life
that things are really about the process
it's not about the outcome so much
its the process you go through
to reach that end product

so i've been attempting to process this day
none of it makes sense really
and i think that is what's making this so difficult
we are not conditioned to expect these things
this is not supposed to happen to us
we're
Americans

for better or for worse
God has created us in the image of America
whatever that may be

injust
bloodthirsty
murdering
intolerant
compassionate
benevolent
heroic
just

God has created us in the image of America
for better or for worse
whatever that image may be

but again
it is all about
the process

maybe this day is the beginning of a process
maybe this day is the beginning of us rediscovering what an American is
periodic revolutions
are good for the soul
or so jefferson thought

but he owned slaves
and didn't really mean it when he said that all men were created equal
he meant
all white, land owning men
no women need apply

so maybe he was wrong about revolution being good for our soul
too

being an American in his time
was about believing in the promise of America
and Americans
believing in God
the father
creator of heaven
and
earth

it's not so easy anymore
today we know the asterisks of jefferson's truths held
self
evident

we read the fine print
and decided that if America didn't want its
colored
queer
female
mexican
muslim
masses yearning to breathe free
then we didn't want America

today
maybe we are redefining America
maybe we are redefining Americans

if you feel anger at what has happened
you are an American
if you feel sadness for the lives lost
you are an American
if you wish this day could be relived and somehow changed
you are an American

today
so many more of us are Americans
than were when we went to bed 24 hours ago
today there are Americans the world over
for today
America is not just a place on a map
bordered by oceans won through genocide
and lines drawn through politics
today
America is a place in the heart of every person around the world who believes in freedom

today
America is an idea
just as it was 226 years ago

today
the sins of the father have been washed from our hands
the tears of his children have cleansed us all

today
we go about the work of recreating a new America
devoid of the shortcomings that damned the original creation to be torn asunder by hate and greed

watching my tv today
tucked away in a corner of the middle of this great land
i saw the worst of man
and the best of Americans

and i cried
or i would have cried
if my tears wouldn't have felt as impotent as the ones that roll through my mind

i cried not for the dead
not for those who have lost fathers
mothers
daughters and sons

i cried not for the lovers
and friends
aunts and uncles who perished

but i cried for how we got here
the process
it's all
about
the process

i cried for the countless families around the world
who have had to wake up to find that their innocent family
has had someone killed by a u.s. bomb

i cried for the souls of those putting fear in the hearts of their neighbors
by raising gas prices
out of sheer greed

i cried because the sins of the father
are being paid for
with the blood of the son

i cried because
the entropy of evil
is a calculus that no mortal can figure

when we create evil
we send it out into the world
and it must be done onto someone
somehow
somewhere

today the evil of our forefathers
has been done unto us
we did not ask for it
we did not deserve it
but it has been done

love can create
more than hate can destroy
believe this my brothers and sisters
believe in this truth
that should be so self evident
that we place it in the pantheon
with life
liberty
and the pursuit of happiness

evil has been done
and if we send this evil out into the world
our children
or their children
will have it fall upon their heads

for their sake
we must end this now
we must take the evils of our ancestors
and squash it now
under our loving thumbs

today
i have seen the worst of man
the best of Americans
and the smiling face of God in all of it
believe my brothers and sisters
believe in love
believe in ourselves
and that we shall overcome
some
day

God bless us all

Posted by nenie at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

If you've been wondering where the hell I've been for the past few days, I can sum it up in one word. Reading. Yup, I've read close to 1000 pages since Sunday, and I'm nearing the end of this cycle. Thankfully, a new cycle starts on Friday morning with another large amount of reading.

What have I been reading. Oh, about modernism, anti-modernism, hegemony, McDonalds, oppression, Chicano history and theory, the history of American Studies. . . it's been an interesting few days in my head.

I'm starting to get the hang of it, though. And I haven't lost my mind yet. Or have I? Nena would probably have the best answer. . .anyway, time to go read.

Posted by nenie at 09:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I received an email the other day that reminded me of an important milestone in my life. It was 18 years ago this month that my first grade teacher, Mrs. Kane introduced me to my oldest friend, EJ.

EJ and I were inseperable until High School rolled around, and thanks to districting we ended up at archrival schools. When I left for IMSA before sophomore year, EJ was the only person I hung on to at home. He's always has been, and always will be, a close friend.

College put even more distance between EJ and I, and the last time I saw him was for his 21st birthday, when I flew out to hang with him for a few days. We don't talk as much as we should, but as has been mentioned previously, sometimes you just don't have to talk to be close. But when we do, I'm reminded of why we're still friends.

EJ is one of the genuinely good guys in this world. He believes in people, and belives in helping those he can, when and where he can. He's loyal and stands for what he believes in. He's proof that sometimes, good guys do finish first. He may not see it this way, but I'm sure others that know the big guy will agree with me.

It was 18 years ago that Mrs. Kane introduced me to a lifelong friend. Someone I've always been proud and honored to know. I can't help but wonder if Mrs. Kane knew what she was doing when she sat the tallest kid in the class next to the shortest kid in the class.

Probably not, but God bless her for it.

Posted by nenie at 08:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Friday is a long day, there's no way around it. I'm up at 7, teaching by 9:30 and I repeat myself every 50 minutes until I get to go back to the office at 1:30. Ah, the joys of TAing.

Yesterday started off in the usual way, but it managed to take a detour to bizarro-world pretty quickly. Between my first and second periods, one of the AMS Dept Secretaries comes by to tell me that it looks like I might receive some money from KU next week, if I produce a Social Security Card, and show it to Payroll, today.

Yeah, one catch, I lost my SSN card a while back.

I teach my next three classes and head back to The Vern, where I find a lot of activity buzzing around. While I was teaching, the Prof I TA for, and a few others in the dept did the homework to figure out how to get me a replacement SSN Card. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, the people I work with rule.

I start filling out the paperwork in my office, when I discover that I need both my mother's and father's SSNs in order to get my replacement card. "Great," I think, "this won't suck at all." With that, I call my mother, and manage to track her down in less than 3 phone calls, which is rather amazing in and of itself. I get her number, and the last four digits of my father's number. . .but that does me no good.

Dad's teaching at a new school this year, which sucks for me. Had it been the old place, I could have called, talked to the secretaries there, who all know and like me, and I would have been able to pull my dad out of class to get the needed info. Too bad he's not at his old school. My mother thinks for a minute and realizes that she knows one of the secretaries at Dad's new school and tells me she's going to make some calls.

20 minutes later, I have all the information I need. Now, to get to the SS Office before 4p (when they close) and back to KU by 4:30 (When Payroll needs the form by.) Luckily, the office is in L-Town. Unfortunately its Friday, so I took the bus to campus. And the Bus doesn't run out near the SS Office, so I'm going to have to bus home, get the car, drive to the Office, drive back to KU, park a million miles away from where I need to be, hike. . .yeah. The Prof I TA for has a solution. He'll drive. He's a prof, he has a blue parking permit, he can park places I can't. . .we're off at 3 to get things done.

You'll all be happy to know I'll be receiving some money on payday. Not my whole check, but enough to pay my bills and eat. Which is always a good thing. That done, I went home, did some internet stuff, and passed out.

After 7 my peeps call, they're going otu tonight. Hitting Mass, was I in or out. . .I'm in. I get up, and groggily walk over to the couch, pop a tape of Thursday's West Wing off of Bravo, and zone out. I get up to get ready to go out after Jed Bartlett saves the world with Pluralism, again and I'm out the door by 8:35. Late for the 8:30 meeting time, but I did tell folks I'd be running late.

I drive up and down New Hampshire looking for the cafe we were supposed to meet at, and can't find it. I pull over, call the peeps, and discover that I'd been past the place a few time, but that the sign isn't lit, and the place itself is back off the street. . .right.

We spend a little while at 815, and then move on to Louise's. We grab the last open booth and watch as the place fills up pretty quickly after that. I didn't feel like drinking, so I watched the world go by. Around Midnight, everyone was really feeling the length of Friday, so the crowd started to break up, and I went to check out the Replay. It was really crowded and what was left of the peeps didn't really approve of the crowd that was there, "All kids that've driven in from KC, no locals." A'ight, I guess that's a night, then.

We all go our separate ways, and I end up walking alone back towards 'Turo who was parked next to 815. On my way there, I see it. The Pochi Tea Station. I stop for a second and think. "Well, I haven't had a drink tonight. I want a drink. I want tea. I want my drink to be tea." And like that, I crossed the street and wallked in.

The place was bizarre. I couldn't quite pin down where I was, or what the vibe was, but I really dug on it. It was as if I was no longer in L-Town, I was in some alternate, Asian universe. A brightly lit, colorful Aisan universe. It was pimp. Japanese boy bands on the TVs, older and younger Asian men sitting at small circular tables, talking in various languages after Midnight in Kansas. I found myself wishing Nena or CK or Freesia or Red or Jen were there to see this. They would've totally appreciated the moment.

I ordered a Thai Tea, hold the bubbles, and sat down to watch some Japanese quartet sing about some girl. The video was really quite pimptastic, and before long, my tea came. Yup, CK should totally have been there. Hello Kitty cup, yo. Or maybe it isn't Hello Kitty, it was the Hat Family, which looks oddly like it was created by Sanrio. . .anyway.

The cup didn't have a snap on lid, instead it had a clear plastic sheet with more cartoon characters on it, and the barista had large bucket full of huge, brightly colored straws for me to choose from. I picked an orange one, and thanked her. As I walked out of Pochi, I noticed that the straw was like a really big version of the Capri-Sun straws, ie- they're sharp at one end. "OH, I get it," I thought, "puncture the film, rock on." And I did.

I was walking through the streets of L-Town sipping my brightly colored tea, that tasted the way girls smell. You know what I'm talking about, that really fresh, powdery, clean smell that girls have. That one.

I walked the rest of the way to my car, ran into some drunk women who were fending off invisible attackers by yelling "WE HAVE MACE" at the top of their lungs and brandishing a small can of what I'm going to assume was mace. Strange place I live in, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Posted by nenie at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Time for the Friday Five. Sharpen your keyboards boys and girls. . .

1. What housekeeping chore(s) do you hate doing the most?

The bathroom, I hate cleaning the bathroom. I once told Nena to tell me when my apt started looking like it belonged to one of the Straight Guys on Queer Eye. Whenever she says it does, it's because I've ignored the bathroom.

2. Are there any that you like or don't mind doing?

Vacuuming. I'm a big fan of the vacuuming. Ask my former inmates, I mean students. When I'd talk about room inspections, I'd harp on the uses of a good vacuuming. I'm also a fan of doing dishes. OK, fan isn't the right term, but I groove when I do dishes, so it's not that bad.

3. Do you have a routine throughout the week or just clean as it's needed?

I'm a clean as needed kind of person. Not so much clean as things need them, but clean as I need to procrastinate from working kinda person. This means that my apt is pretty clean most of the time.

4. Do you have any odd cleaning/housekeeping quirks or rules?

Not really. Hrmmm, I should think about that. . .

5. What was the last thing you cleaned?

I vacuumed on Wednesday, I just felt like the apt needed a good vacuuming. Therefore, it happened.

What about y'all? My dirty, dirty friends. . .

Posted by nenie at 08:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

You win some, you get screwed some. OK, that's a bit of an overstatement. But Kansas has been both kind and not so nice today.

Let's overlook the whole running out the door to catch the bus, realizing halfway to the bus stop that you don't have your bus pass, running back home, and running to the bus, catching it just in time, way to start your day.

Let's look a bit farther into my day. Item 1- My paycheck. My paycheck that comes exactly one month after my first day of work. My first paycheck, which comes after I've done a month's worth of work for the University of Kansas. My paycheck that is only for two week's worth of work.

Yup, that check.

That check will not be coming to me on Sept. 12 as it was supposed to. Why not? Because payroll screwed up, and my paperwork was not processed on time. Never mind that I walked it over there in the triple digit heat on August 20th (read about my taking the check over here) so that it would be processed in time for me to get paid on the 12th of September. . .

Why, oh why am I being paid late? Because they didn't send me an I9 to fill out in my packet of stuff. Why didn't they send me an I9? Because they thought I was an International Student. Yeah, I'm not too thrilled

Item 2- I recieved my first phone bill today. They charged me $8 for Caller ID. CALLER ID I DIDN'T ORDER. I called Sunflower and told them this in my most calm, nice, midwestern voice (as midwestern as a non-native speaker of English like myself can muster) tell them that I was charged for Caller ID I did not order. Guess it worked, cuz I don't have to pay for it. Yup, gotta love trusting people.

Item 3- Had my first student come to office hours tonight. That was fun.

Fun day, yo.

Posted by nenie at 05:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Freakin' Cubs. I seriously don't think I can take much more of this shit from them. It's really a bit much. For those of you who don't follow the NorthSiders, let me recap the salient points of the past few days.

The Cubs started the week 1.5 games behind St. Louis and Houston in the NL Central. This was going into a 5 game series with St. Louis in Chicago. Great, right? Wrong. This whole thing has been an emotionally nervewracking experience for me. I can only imagine what it must be like to either, 1) be in Chicago right now and able to see all the games on TV, 2) not have grad school to distract you, 3) my mother.

My mom is a crazy die hard fan. As is my father, but he's much more level headed about all this. He'll scream in the 2nd inning that it's all over and leave the room. The guy had a heart attack a few years back, so really, it's probably for the best that he does things like this. My mother on the other hand. . .well, two stories.

A) On a day when the Cubs win a day game, she will answer the phone by saying "Cubs Win." Only it's not as psychotic as all that. (Although those in the know, know that my mom is the one and only "Psycho Mommy. But that's a post for another day) Anyway, my mom normally calls after she gets home from work, and if the Cubs have won a game that afternoon, the conversation goes something like this.

Nenie: Hello

Mom: Cuuubs Wiiiin baby boy.

Yup, I love my mother, she rules.

2) A few weeks ago my mom called me during a Cubs night game that was on ESPN. Prior was putting on a SHOW, and the following conversation ensues.

Mom: Did you know that Wood is going on the DL?

Nenie: Really? His back is that bad?

Mom: No, I'm going to break the son of a bitch's arm so he can't screw up this win streak.

Thank you, thank you my mother will be here all week. Please remember that the 7p show is always different from the 11p, tip your waitresses and enjoy the Captain and Tennille.

Where was I? Right, this week. The Cubs win by 7 on Monday, win in 15 innings in game one on Tuesday, lose by blown call in game two on Tuesday, and then come back from a 6-0 deficit today to win 8-7. I'm seriously getting too old for this shit. Man, what a ride. It'd be nice to win the division, but even if they don't, the ride has been fabulous. That said, go win this sucker, boys.

Posted by nenie at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Jen made an interesting point the other day about long distance relationships.

i said that there was something about distance that taught you really quickly about what was at the core of your relationship to another person.

It makes me think of my own long distance relationships. I've had and continue to have a lot of these, but it's the romantic ones that have given me the most pause since Jen's words.

I've had a few different long distance romantic relationships over the years, all of which died terrible, horrible deaths; as Tom so graciously pointed out the other day. Which brings me to my current relationship, Nena.

Most of you who've been following this space closely know that I'm going to actually marry this woman but most of you don't really have the backstory and why it relates to what I'm talking about here. . .

Nena and I have known of each other for a really long time. We went to college together. In reality, we graduated from the same college at the same time. But it's dishonest to say that we actually went to college "together." For the four years we called that small piece of Minnesota Tundra home, we were in vastly different worlds.

I'll spare you all the details of what went down, when and suffice it to say that we were barely friends by the time we both left town. We'd never dated, and we were both vaguely aware that this was a bit of a tragedy, but not cosmic in its scale. It was more the bad papercut variety of tragic. It stung, but you'd get over it.

That's where Jen's point about distance comes in. We both moved to different parts of the country after that warm day in June. The distance clarified things. I now understand that the thing about distance is that it boils down your relationships to their base elements. And when the relationships are truly good, they become about getting continually closer to the core of who the other person is. When this is the basis of a relationship, distance seems trivial, I guess. This is why I fell in love with a woman half a country away. When I didn't even talk to her when she was half a mile away.

I'll leave things at that. There are a million reasons why I needed to get to know this woman better. . .but some things are better left unsaid.

The point is that distance is the great equalizer. Where it has destroyed other relationships, it's actually strengthened others. What I'm discovering these days is that getting to the core of things helps them make sense. When that happens, you might not always like what you find, but accepting these truths is part of what growing up is all about.

Posted by nenie at 09:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I can't take credit for finding this article, but I can post the picture up. This product is real. It's made by Coke, and yeah, it's milk. It comes in Blooo (blueberry), Chocolate, and Vanana (vanilla and banana). It will be sold exclusively in junior and senior high schools. Just bizarre, yo.

It's from a NY Times article on Coke's marketing ties to schools. Full text availble, here.

I'd kinda like to try the Vanana one. I'm always in the mood for some banana flavored milk. It reminds me of when I was a kid and we'd go to La Unica. It's a bit of a trip to go down to La Unica, so going there was always a BIG DEAL. We'd stock up on different Colombian foods when we were there, and yeah banana flavored milk is considered a Colombian food to me. Why? Because the only place I could find it growing up was La Unica. Hence, it was deemed Colombian in my mind. Sadly, La Unica has been sold to some Mexican guy in the past year, so it's no longer your one stop Colombian/Cuban shop.

Even the trademark Miranda sign out front has been replaced with a Tricolores sign. Not something most folks would notice, but, it's meaningful to me.

Posted by nenie at 11:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I taped Raw tonight. It was the carrot dangling in front of my reading. I finished my reading for the evening and popped the tape in. I have a few thoughts.

1) This announcer's feud makes total sense to me. No, really, it does. Since there is such a drought of wrestling talent on the WWE payroll, they actually have no choice but to have these non-wrestlers taking up airtime, yknow, wrestling.

2) Triple H's current ring attire. Seriously, doesn't it scream "Fanny Pack." He totally needs one of those, it'll go great with those trunks. Maybe some roller blades as well. Man, can someone find a picture? Cuz it's really kinda brilliant. I think JR said he has to wear them because of "Groin Injury." Right JR. Way to cover for hHh's lack of fashion sense.

3) Is it me? Or is Triple H's hair thinning out. Looks like the 'roids are catching up to him.

Yup, these are the things I think about.

Posted by nenie at 12:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Labor Day Weekend, and it's rained the whole time. It's not raining at the moment, but it's still overcast and threatening. The upside to this is that it's cooled off substantially in the past few days. As a result, I now have my windows open and my AC off for the first time in weeks.

I'm in the midst of a cleaning spree, it's the best I can do to procrastinate from all the reading I have hanging over my head at the moment. For those of you who notice these things, I've had the same book on my "Current Reading" shelf for some time. That's not a good thing.

It's a book for the Grad Level Intro to American Studies here. I have 335pgs of it to read, and it's going a lot slower than I'd like. The book is interesting, it's a collection of articles from the first 50 years of American Quarterly, which is the journal of the American Studies Association. I'm really taken by how the field has evolved over the years. If anything, it's made me realize how much I really do like the field I'm in. That's a good thing. If only it wasn't keeping me from preparing for 110.

Nena was out here this weekend. It is more than likely her last trip down here for the forseeable future. She has a life up north, and I have one down here. And while it would be nice for one of us to travel every weekend, it's just not feasible, or realistic.

Sunday, we went to Oak Park Mall in Overland Park, or is it Lenexa, or Olathe, KS. I can't really tell. Johnson County just melts into one large Commerce-O-Plex to me. Much the same way home does, actually. The difference is that I grew up in the Greater Woodfield Commerce-O-Plex, so I know where the civic boundaries are out there. Not so much with the Johnson County Commerce-O-Plex.

The mall trip was actually rather productive. I've been needing to diversify my wardrobe away from my Tshirt collection. This trip went a pretty decent way towards doing that. You've got to love the Labor Day Sales, eh?

As for today, more reading. I really need to put away this 801 reading so I can write the paper and move on to 110. OK, I'm going to go do that right. . .later.

Posted by nenie at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)