Procrastination station. It's so beautiful outside!
I am sitting in the station, waiting for the motivation to jump onto the train that will lead me to the end of my second full semester of graduate school (on Monday). The only problem is, it's about 25 pages of some serious self-reflection away. Man, what ever happened to b.s. without guilt? I suspect that it got lost somewhere in the 20k+ that Uncle Sam loaned to me for my undergraduate education (and it continues to rack up). Why marry rich when Uncle Sam can be your daddy?

Lost is on tonight. (I can't WAIT!) And then, it's the semesterly celebration with my grad-clique at O'Gara's Bar. But really I should buy some bones, take my puppy for a walk, take a shower, and go to sleep early. Tuesdays are nightmare-ish 15-hour work days that never end.

Ah, yes. The couch is calling my name and sweet sweet WALKING Violet is already in dreamland. I have the best jobs in the world!

I can not get enough of The Wailin' Jennys - no, not Waylon Jennings, my friends. But, seriously. I love them. I wish they would marry me and we could have someone else's babies together.

On that front, I was watching Will and Grace this evening, and Grace was explaining to a cute six-year-old that most of us spend our entire lives looking for someone to love us, and most of us fail and then die... eeek. Talk about depressing. I think that all those people should get dogs (who love you unconditionally) and get over it-- or at least pretend to.

Random conversation from work the other night, I was chatting with Patty, this really conservative woman, and I told her that for me, kid(s) were the essential part of my future, that a husband was really the optional part. She was flabbergasted, and told me that I should find a good man to be my partner, and then see if I want kids after that. She went on and on about just how impossible it is for single mothers, and how all their kids are screwed up.... hee hee, I guess she didn't realize she was talking to the almost-successful (not outwardly screwed up) me, child of a single mother who did just fine, thank-you-very-much. Seriously, it made me almost mad.

Happy 1st Birthday, my sweet Violet!

Mono-riffic.

When I was 19, I got mononucleosis from my boyfriend-at-the-time, now (obviously) ex-boyfriend. He thought it was comical. I was sick-sick-sick, throwing up every day before choir, miserable. Now, five years later, I have joined the sick-as-crap uncomfortable mono-riffic club again. It's terrible. Actually, it's not nearly as terrible as the first time around, but still pretty uncomfortable. But what is the most terrible thing about it, are the poor people whom I may have/might infect. It's not comical, it's a curse. I feel guilty about it. Though, professionals have assured me that the Epstein-Barr virus really isn't all that terribly contagious.

In other news, I am doing some clinical teaching hours at Ramsey International Fine Arts Center (k-8), and I'm loving it. I'm even working in a math classroom, which I thought I would hate, but I'm doing all right. The kids at the Arts High (PCAE) are terrific-as-ever and dramatic as all-get-out. Most of the dorm staff are looking forward to summer vacation, whereas I know that I will miss the students horribly.

Hippity, hoppity, Easter's on its way.

Ah yes, Easter. A terrific excuse for little girls everywhere to get a hat with pastel colors or ribbons, or fuzzy things on it that they will wear for only one day and probably only for a few minutes. But alas, they do look adorable in the pictures.

This week has been crazy busy, I think Lily is ready to kick me out of the apartment because I'm never there. I have been working nights out at the Delta Dorm hanging out with my artsy high schoolers. Their company is downright addictive. Yesterday night (and Tuesday night) there was a music concert (as well as this evening as well). I got a funny pic of some guys who played in an 80's band and I will absolutely paste it on here later.

Because I've been working nights (until midnight), my absolutely wonderful mother has been letting my dog out to go potty. She's also been eating my food-- but I told her she could. Anyway, probably rewarding me for never being around, Tuesday night, Lily got up at 3am, walked into the living room, and promptly gagged up some stomach-pumping throw-up. I'd just fallen asleep a few hours before, but I got up, cleaned up the mess and tried to coax her into drinking some pepto bismol... but she wasn't going for it. I decided not to torture her, and I went back to sleep.
Ah, the joys of dog-ownership.

Ah! Can it get any more beautiful? I challenge the weather to be any more terrific than it is today. I just can't get over it.

I was thinking today that the weather today is like San Francisco is all the time. My friend Elliot has just been accepted to Stanford for business school, and he once again has told me that I should move to California. It's a little tempting, but if we all move to California, Minnesota would be lonely, no? Not to mention a red state. That is my logic for staying-- at least for now.

Lily and I went for a walk, and she got so tired and hot that she plopped down on some lawn and rolled over (and accidently kinda slid down a hill). She is entertaining. Man-oh-man.

Just a few pics from mom's yesterday. I love my puppy dog.

Hot. How's this for follow through? Meg and I met up and split a s'lad and some 'zza at Punch-- an old standby and incredible incredible pizza. Then we caught some Denzel and some Jodie Foster at the Highland Theater. I give Inside Man an enthusiastic grade of B and definately an E for effort. Good, but a little even. Though, the "villian" is a hottie (and smart, humane, and did I mention smart??) and he should look me up. seriously.

If I can successfully nuture not only house plants, but also a dog, I should be able to remain faithful to a blog, no? I'm going to give it a go.

Today Violet did a weird thing when her dad came home from work with her uncle Matt. She was fine, happy, her own normal giddy-self, then when I helped her "walk" toward her uncle, she broke down-- melt-down style. She wouldn't even let her dad hold her. She was sobbing and shaking and she nestled her hot and flushed little face down into my neck and pant-breathed, you know the type, the kind of crying when you were little where it felt like you couldn't breathe. Very weird. Almost flattering, but something to worry about, as the little tot has never done this before. She was really tired, so hopefully that is the explanation.

In other employment news, I chatted with a guy from the US Fish and Wildlife Service today about getting a full-time, well-paying job working in environmental education near Jordan, Minnesota. It would be a dream job, but it would require me shuffling quite a bit of my life around, and it would mean leaving Violet. I don't know if I have the heart. My mother says I should make adult and career-oriented decisions-- but she's (Violet) just starting to get awesome--- and what will be more fun than spending the summer with a one-year-old?!? Okay, maybe not everyone thinks that would be fun, but I'm ecstatic.

We had a terrific thunderstorm here this evening-- all lightning and thunder rattling the loose window panes. It was great because it's still early enough for me not to non-sensically worry that we'll all be sucked away by horrendous a tornado. Ah, lilapsophobia.

School is good. I'm reading Punished By Rewards by the human-ephemeral-spring of refreshingly right-on educational ideas, Alfie Kohn. I'm also taking an online class and reading the decidedly more controversial Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods: Saving our children from nature-deficit disorder. I'm not as impressed with this text-- wish I could be, he's such a raving hippie.