n e n i e

Nena's great grandmother died today. In the matriarchy that is the Velasquez clan, she was the undisputed queen. Grandma spent 91 years, 2 months and a day with us on this earth and she leaves behind an amazing family.

Nena and I are leaving for New Mexico in the morning.

She was an amazing woman, and I was privileged to have known her. I wish I could be my more normal eloquent self right now. But, it's not really happening. It's late and I have a long drive in the morning.

Take care, all.

Posted by nenie at 11:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Good weekend here in Nenielandia, well- a decent one.

Friday night scared the hell out of me. Nena and I were sitting around watching TV when the phone rang. It was the Lawrence Memorial ER. "Is this Nenie? Do you know Cath?"

My heart freaking stopped.

Yeah, considering how many phone calls they make like this, they've really got to get better at not creating new patients when they inform people about their current ones.

Cath is fine, she had a slight run-in with some asphalt and she just needed a ride home, etc.

But still, fucking ER people. Could they NOT scare someone half to death when they call?

Nena and I spent Friday tending to Cath and Saturday just seemed to get away from us. We went to my dept chair's end of year party and then off to church and then Corn's birthday party over at Cheryl's. It was a good time, and it was close to 10p when we finally realized it was maybe time to go home.

Then Nena slept for 12 hours.

I didn't need nearly as much sleep so I left and ran some errands on Sunday morning. It was a beautiful morning. I'd managed to get up and out the door before it'd started getting hot. I'd forgotten that it's still technically spring out here. The biggest of my errands was going grocery shopping so I hit the Hyvee with my list and began to wander the aisles.

Lately, Nena and I have been doing our shopping together. Which means that we're in the grocery store at 2p on Saturday when everyone and their Nana is at the store. But Sunday at 8:30a was definitely not Saturday at 2p. It was pretty cool, I was pretty much alone in the store again, the way it used to be when I'd buy my groceries at 2a on Wednesdays or somesuch. Quiet aisles, bright lights. There's something surreal about shopping at times like this. It's a quietly beautiful homage to consumption. I used to see these elaborately filmed scenes in my head, someone floating through an immaculate grocery store. Their feet never touching the ground, all this food around them to be purchased. . .

It was immersed in these thoughts when I heard what I thought was my dad someplace. He has this song he sings when he goes to the grocery store early on Sunday mornings while my mother is still asleep. There are no words, just some vocables and a catchy tune. And I was hearing it, all around me in a Hyvee in Lawrence, Kansas.

I turned around really quickly and didn't see anyone else around me. Just me and the bread.

I picked up a loaf of bread and continued on my way. After a few steps I heard it again- my father's Sunday morning grocery song. Light, beautiful, dancing through the air all around me.

I stopped and turned around again. Nothing, just me and the jams.

I shook my head and kept moving and the song started up again. That's when it hit me, I was the one singing my father's Sunday morning grocery song. It was me singing along with the memory of hundreds of Sunday mornings in the Dominick's growing up flooded back to me. I looked around me and at my arms that looked incredibly like my father's did when I was young. I was buying bread and coffee on a Sunday morning for my sleeping woman just like he does. . .kind of a cool thing to realize. Well, it is if you like your father that is.

I do.

Today's been just as crazy, only in a much more laid back way. Will ('Turo's younger brother) is having some issues with his steering so Nena took 'Turo to work and I took Will to the dealer to have it looked at. When Nena took Will into the dealer in MPLS, they said there was nothing wrong. We doubted them since whenever you turn left, there is something seriously wrong. I got there around 8a and waited. After an hour and a half they told me that they had diagnosed that there was, actually a problem. And that it was the problem we'd told them about. Great, thanks guys.

Two hours later, they say they have a clue as to what the problem is and it's going to take a few more hours to nail down, would I like to go home?

Yeah, a whole morning gone. And I hadn't had breakfast. I was seriously starving when I got home. But now, I'm nourished and the dealer just called to tell me that they now know EXACTLY what the problem is. They just don't have the parts to fix anything today, but they will tomorrow. I'm going to pick Will up now and repeat this whole thing tomorrow. WHOO! Thankfully, this is under Will's warranty.

Posted by nenie at 01:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I've been a Cubs fan for 25 years, you'd think I'd be used to pain by now. Yeah, not so much. Fucking Sergio Mitre. Back to back homers in the 5th. That Pujols jack still hasn't landed yet. This Mitre jackass shouldn't be on the 2004 Cubs. The 1994 Cubs, sure. The guy could have been our ace. Why, oh why do we have this jackass to deal with this, of all years?

This is the Cardinals series, yo. It's time to show up to play. Instead, yeah, not so much. On the bright side, though- we have the best DL in all of baseball.
Aside from that, it's been a really, really long week.

The quick recap, and keep in mind that this is finals week.

Saturday-
The KC Carleton Alumni Club had their first event in over 3 years. We had a screening of The Last Place on Earth out in Overland Park. The writer/director is a Carleton alum and we had a screening and Q&A to show some support. The movie is pretty solid and it was nice to meet some Carls of more distinguished vintages.

How's that for a euphemism?

Sunday-
I had an interview with a big box merchant about a potential job. It went pretty well, but it's the first of three interviews I would need to have with them before I can be considered for the job. After that, Nena drove me to the airport and I was off to The Minny for a few days, sans Nena. There's a lot more to say about this trip, but I'll save that for another post.

Monday-
After a night of merriment with The Krew, I saw some old friends and spoke on a panel on what one does with a degree in American studies. Clearly, these folks need to read nenie.net on a regular basis, yo.

Tuesday-
Back to L-Town to administer a final and continue working on my final papers. I worked pretty steadily on them while in The Minny and that progress brought me a lot closer to getting things done.

Wednesday-
Work. Lots of work. Spent the entire day writing. I did take a break to interview for a package handler position at BROWN and make Nena a really great dinner. I don't think I'm what they're looking for over at BROWN. So I guess there's not much BROWN can do for me.

Corn called somewhere in there to let me know that we have a radio show this summer. The Quiet Storm is coming. Is your soul prepared?

Thursday-
Turned in one paper and kept working on the other. I had my second interview with the above mentioned big box merchant. This one was a little harder to read, but I think it went well. I have my third and final interview with them on Monday.

Nena was working late so I went to dinner with Cheryl and Das Nibblet at one of the world famous restaurants in L-Town. Man, sometimes cheese blintzes just hit the spot, yo.

Oh, I also received notification that I'm teaching my own class this fall. I'm really psyched about this. I'm tossing around a lot of ideas about what to do with this class.

Friday-
That's today, right? Yes.

The last paper of the term is done, well, close to done. I finished writing it and sent it out to my usual crew of readers of things that are important. I can't revise this thing anymore, I'm dead to it, it all makes sense to me now. I need fresh eyes to look at it and let me know if it actually makes sense, of if I've just convinced myself to retain what's left of my sanity.

I also had an interview with another, different big box merchant. This one pays less, but it is more hours. It's a bit of a pickle, really.

President Clinton was in L-Town today speaking at the Dole Institute of Politics. Tickets went out on Monday and Tuesday so I didn't get one, but I did see him once when I was at IMSA and once at Carleton, so I figured I could catch this one on TV.

Man, that man is freakin' brilliant. That's all I have to say about that at the moment.

That's my week, yo. Crazy when you write it all out.

Cubs game update:
Mitre's out of the game by now. His final line- 10 H, 7 R, 5 IP

JEEZ Pujol's forearms are HUGE.

That carpenter guy from Trading Spaces is on. Damn, is he tone deaf or what? Freakin' bad. He also started the whole thing by asking "Are you ready to kick out an old skool jam?" Lame, a Laming Lamer on FYRRRR!!!!

Posted by nenie at 04:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've changed.

I know that this really isn't all that profound a thought. I also know that every other fucking entry here seems to be about how I've changed. But seriously, something is different.

It's 1:09a and I'm still up. I'm not really doing anything all that important, there's no reason for me to be up, I just don't want to be sleeping right now. I'm up, letting Han DJ my early morning, reading the week's worth of LJ entries I haven't had time to read and talking to people on IM.

I used to do this all the time. I used to have these late nights for no particular reason. Late nights where I'd sit up and explore the internet with Yoda, music blaring out of my stereo, bedtime coming whenever I felt like going to bed, no clock governing me.

I didn't used to think about getting a decent night's sleep, or going to class or work the next morning. I'd deal with those things when the time came and the time of reckoning wasn't right now. For now, I would stay up and explore the night. Maybe I'd call CK up and we'd hit Petricka's. Maybe I'd call Freesia and we'd get some coffee. It didn't matter, there was just a poetry to the world that I reveled in.

Now, I worry.

I worry about getting enough sleep, about getting my grading done, about doing enough reading or when the papers are going to get written. I have to hurry up and do my research, think about when I'm presenting next, when am I going to the gym. . .it just never ends.

How did any of us do it? Stay up 'til all hours, get shit done, have fun doing it. It just doesn't seem possible anymore. It just doesn't make sense anymore, but it still feels really good. I see the undergrads around me doing what I used to do, and it blows my mind. It all seems to be so long ago.

Regardless, here I am. 1:21a- Tori coming through the headphones. I had Better than Ezra before, and some Lisa Loeb and Nirvana. It feels good, it's a cool, quiet night and I'm up for no particular reason. Why don't I do this more often? I need to do this more often. I need to relax and stay up late, do stuff, be me. I'll get to class, I'll get stuff done. I just need to remember to do it the way that got me this far.

Posted by nenie at 01:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Guess who's the newest collumnist at the UDK?

Word, Nenie's got 500 words a week to inflict upon the University of Kansas. I can't believe these fools gave me a spot in the paper, yo. Granted, they interview me so freakin' much, they might as well give me my own collumn. And now, they have. . .Big thanks to Corn for the recommendation. I don't think I could ever fill his collumn inches, but I'm grateful for the chance to try.

In other news, I finished grading EVERYTHING today. It was intense, but there's nothing that my students have turned in to me that has not been graded. Not only that, but all of the grades have been uploaded to Blackboard so folks can look up their own grades, no need to bother me. WHOO!

Now I have to write 40 pages by the time my plane leaves for The Minny on Sunday so I can edit while I'm up in the great, white north. Yeah, this semester thing is really kicking my ass right now. I'm so freaking tired, I just want to sleep forever. Only, Nena and I have a Carleton Alumni Club event to host on Saturday, a trip to go on Sunday-Tuesday, two term papers to write, a house to buy and oh, did I mention I need a job for the summer?

Yeah, this is going to be really rough, yo.

Posted by nenie at 07:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

And with that, I disappeared for a week.

I'm totally not wired for the semester. It's big, it's long, and I'm tired by the end. The trimester was perfect, a sprint, a jog. This marathon semester bullshit is kicking my ass six ways from Sunday. Last week was devoted to grading papers, writing end of term papers and things that result from having Nena in town.

Case in point. Thursday was Cheryl's birthday. Some of you may remember that she was the one that mandated I not make my own cake for my birthday a few months ago. Well, she tried to sneak her birthday past all of us. And frankly, I wasn't about to let her do that.

I came home from campus and made a cake (with Nena's excellent assistance) and we delivered it around dinner time, so Nena wouldn't miss the Friends Finale. While over there, Cheryl mentioned that a house down the street had recently come on the market. Intrigued, we drove by. Nena and I fell in love with it and we called our realtor immediately upon getting home.

A few hours later, we were inside the house getting our asses kicked into getting our mortgage situation straightened out.

We're not getting that house, or a house this week and probably not next week. However, we now realize that this is something we want to do and we need to take care of business so that we can actually do it sooner rather than later.

Right, so you toss in things like that in with the end of the semester shuffle and suddenly my electronic absence makes a whole lot of sense.

The term is coming to a decent close and Nena's most of the way moved in. We just need to get caught up with the laundry. That's the one thing that's still hanging over our heads. . .soon, it'll look like a normal apartment. I promise.

Posted by nenie at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Nena moved in on Saturday without a hitch. It's been nice to have her around, though we're both getting over the fact that she doesn't have to back to The Minny tomorrow, or, yknow- EVER. Because, she LIVES IN KANSAS NOW! Sorry if that was a bit too loud for your eyes on a Monday afternoon. But it's still pretty exciting to us.

Saturday was spent just getting settled. She has yet to really unpack in any way remotely resembling subtantive, but we figure that's what she'll do when I'm busy being a grad student. Yknow, times like right now.

Sunday we continued our never ending search for a parish. We've seen things we like and things we don't like in a church 'round here and yesterday we tried out the last Catholic outpost in town. Lo and behold, it was exactly what we'd wanted. OK, so there's no crying room and a lot of crying babies at the church- but that just means it's a young parish, right?

Seriously, it was great. Reminded me of St. Hubert before the current pastor took the place and ran it into the ground. Granted, I bailed on that life 10 years ago, so maybe things aren't so bad out there. I mean, they have a website and my parents are still parishoners.

Also, in one of the best bits of irony (Though, not real irony. It's that kind of irony that isn't really ironic, but rather that thing we mean when we use ironic incorrectly. I'm telling you people, we need a word for this.) I was scheduled to work a college fair yesterday for my fair alma mater. The same one Nena stopped working as an admissions rep at on Friday. Eventually, Nena decided to drive me to the fair and then go shopping while I answered questions about my alma mater/we hail the maize and blue. . .

It was pretty phatty, I was paired with another alum who's class of '57. Amazing, it was like looking 40 years into the future. The man's sarcastic, liberal as hell, funny as shit and really, really smart. The man knows a lot about a lot. It was pretty cool. Glad to see something don't really change all that much. Oh, he was a bit more elitist than I hope to be in 40 years. But, yknow. .. right.

Just for the record:

1) Carleton is in Northfield, MN
2) The cold really isn't that bad.
3) 45 minutes south of Minneapolis.
4) No, there is not business program.
5) No there is no pre-med major. Pre-med isn't a major, it's a career ambition.
6) There is a pre-med track.
7) Yes Carls go to medical school.
8) Yes, really good medical schools.
9) Yes you COULD get into an MBA program if you go to Carleton, even though there is no business degree.
10) Yes, I'm going to keep doing these fairs.

The big fun came later in the evening, though. I'd made a big batch of my 505 Chili and invited folks over. Nena was pleasantly surprised at how it came out. Being the good daughter of New Mexico that she is, she's pretty sketched out by the white man's chili. She was skeptical about how good this pot full of random odds and ends could be, but even she had to admit how well it all turned out.

Cody was in town and he came over for a night of chili consumption and random bullshit inspired by the presence of Corn, Nibblet and Cheryl. I keep forgetting how nice it is to have Cody around. I know there are folks out there who never thought they'd hear me say those words, but it's true. Even if he did fuck Han up pretty bad, he's a good guy and I miss hanging out with him.

The highlight of the night came when Langston Hughes became the topic of conversation. Geek that Corn is, he wondered aloud what a poem entitled "Yo Mama" would sound like if Hughes had written it. I came up with:

(Said in my best Hughes impression. . .yes, I know I'm a geek because I know how he sounded so I could DO an impression. I also know how geeky my friends are because they could TELL I was doing an impression of Langston Hughes. Get over it.)

Yo mama so fat
Yo mama so fat
Yo mama so fat that when she sits around the house
when she sits around the house
she really sits around the house

Yo mama
Yo negro mama
negro mama that knows what it is to be a negro mama
of someone negro and gay like me
sitting around the house
really sitting around the house. . .

OK, so it was better than that. I just can't recall it all right now. But it had all the elements you'd expect from Hughes's work.

I really should have written that down.

At any rate. There are a stack of essays that need grading, so I'm off to do that. Word.

Posted by nenie at 01:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

With the impending move (Nena's in Missouri, speeding towards Kansas right now) I've been doing a lot of thinking about what it means to grow up. While this probably isn't news to anyone who's been remotely paying attention (ie- if you're just a bit more intellectually curious than my average student) it's something that's manifested itself in some really unique ways.

I've been thinking a lot about the soccer team I coached this winter. I keep thinking, "I coached a team, when did I get old enough to coach a team?" Yes, I know people who coached all through high school and college, but for me this concept- me coaching- was a particularly hard one to grasp.

Growing up, my father was my coach. Thinking back, I remember endless summers playing soccer out at the old Unocal fields (which are now the Woodfield Village Green Shopping Center) under the watchful technical eye of my father, who for a few hours every week, wasn't "Papo" or "Dad," he was "Coach." I remember thinking how cool it was that MY dad was the coach and that someday, when I was A LOT older- I'd be the coach.

I'm the coach now, but am I A LOT older? Am I all that different from that 5 year old Nenie out on the field, thinking about attack angles, dandelions, and what was for dinner? Am I not still made happier with a hot dog and an orange soda after my work is done? When did it happen? When was the exact moment, when I went from player to coach?

When I started coaching, I remember talking to my dad about it. I was frustrated with the way practices were going, I thought I was possibly the worst soccer coach ever, so bad I didn't deserve to carry my father's coaching mantle into the new century. In the midst of all the frustration and complaining, my father showed that he's still not done coaching. . .

"Nenie, at that age, you're lucky to get them all to run the same way down the field. With you guys, I just picked a theme and preached that over and over again. Remember 'Long pass, long pass?' Sometimes you did it, sometimes you didn't but as long as everyone had a good time I knew you guys were learning something important. Teach them something important, to have fun. That's your job, wins are nice, wins are fun, but they're still learning. Teach them."

Wow, really? We were that bad? That's the secret? That's what made you everyone's favorite coach? That's what made me fill with pride whenever we'd talk about how this coach was the best one ever?

That's the other tricky thing about growing up. The older I get, the better I was. In my mind's eye, we were an elite team, a strike force of elementary school soccer ninjas set out to dominate the league. My father, Bobby Charlton, leading our side into battle and ultimate soccer glory with a cap on his head. In my father's more objective recollection, we were a bunch of kids who thought we were soccer players. Sometimes, growing up means becoming more objective about the most subjective and personal of subjects- the past.

Armed with this better understanding of what it was I was trying to emulate, the season carried on and by the last game of the season, it all came together. After being a league doormat all season, we dismantled our final opponent.

It was amazing, the kids executed everything I'd taught them. They played position, created space by maintaining spacing, dribbled well, passed well and finished even better. All of the basics I'd worked to teach them were finally sinking in and the best part was they were having fun doing it. High fiving and encouraging each other for the entire time. It was amazing. I wish my dad could have seen it.

As I think back about that game, I remember something Cody told me when I first told him I was coaching. "It won't seem worth it at the beginning. Then, at some point, you'll see some kid dismantle someone using something you taught them. Then, it'll all seem worthwhile."

He was right. Seeing these kids learn from my experience, seeing them take it and run with it was an amazing thing. I don't know when I got old enough to do this. I don't know when I amassed enough knowledge to be able to tell anyone what to do, but I'm glad I am. I'm glad I'm old enough to pass on my father's wisdom, but I'm even happier that I'm still young enough to continue to take it in. Though, I think that no matter how old I get, I'll still be young enough to learn from my father. I'm adult enough to realize that now.

Posted by nenie at 09:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)