the busy heart

Only one student showed up for my class on Whitman today. Count him, ONE. The two of us found this very disturbing. We discussed the possibility of a grand plot against Whitman class. We discussed alien abduction. We discussed mass stomach bugs. And then we went home. Now I'm considering the possibility that no one likes me. Worms, anyone?

Pardon me for being a doting cat-mom, but is this not the cutest Meatsock you've ever seen in a dryer? No idea how he managed to hop up there. But oh he charms me. (Sorry for the sideways view. I'm too lazy to fix it in picasa. And I kinda like it that way.) Also, Sam and I watched Arachnophobia for the first time last night. Why do people make movies like that? Movies that make me screech when my sweater, sock, or hair touch me? Movies that cause me to stand up on my couch, screaming and stamping my feet? And that was just me. Even Sam, who watches horror movies for FUN, was freaking out. We had to watch stupid TV just to get over it.

We went to this place: A bed and breakfast on Cape Cod. Late at night, in our pretty room called "Moonglow," we sat in reclining chairs facing a big window, looked at the stars, held hands, and talked and talked and talked. Today we drove all the way to Provincetown. It's at the very tip of the Cape. Sam and I have decided that the Cape looks like Popeye's flexed arm. (We don't know if this is a cliche. Has anyone heard this before?) Look: So we were on Popeye's knuckle. We ate lunch. This is Sam eating lunch: Then we tried to get close to a lighthouse and failed. But we did find a beach and spent 1.5 seconds on it until we decided it was COOOLLLLDDD and literally ran back to our car. I can't tell you how much we needed to go away. Since our wedding was quick and the cross country move followed on its heels, we didn't really honeymoon. This was kind of a mini-honeymoon. A minimoon. We've both had a rough time adjusting to all the ch...

I love Sam.   I mean, I really love him.

This is my favorite sandwich in the world, I think. At least for tonight. I made this for the first time a few years ago, and I keep coming back to it and back to it. Ohhh, it's lovely. And healthy. And stuff. Okay, here. Make it, eat, be happy. Black Bean Burgers with Spicy Cucumber and Red Pepper Relish Ingredients Relish: 2/3 cup finely chopped peeled cucumber 1/2 cup finely chopped red bell pepper 1/4 cup finely chopped red onion 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice 1 tablespoon honey 1 teaspoon finely chopped dill 1/8 teaspoon salt Dash of ground red pepper Burgers: 1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained 1/2 cup dry breadcrumbs 1/4 cup minced red onion 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin 1/8 teaspoon black pepper 1 large egg Cooking spray Preparation To prepare relish, combine first 8 ingredients in a medium bowl. Cover and chill 2 hours. To prepare burgers, place beans in a large bowl; partially mash with a fork. Stir in brea...

Today, at lunch, Sam held up a piece of lettuce, a heart of romaine that looked like a pale green spine. “I wish you could see yourself in this piece of lettuce,” he said. “Uhhh, hmm. I don’t think I get it,” I said. “I wish it was a little mirror, and I could hold it up like this, and you could see how pretty you are, sitting over there.”

My visiting-teachee has cancer. (For non-LDS, this means a person at church that I visit once a month and make sure she's okay.) I know this, even though I technically shouldn't. She doesn't seem to want people to know. She told me it was a possibility, and then seemed really really bothered that she had. So, it's not like we're dear friends. I can't just call her and say I'm sorry and what can I do. She doesn't like scheduled visits, since she never knows how she'll feel. They don't need meals. I'm not even sure she likes me. And yet, my heart aches. I want to be able to DO something. Bring flowers? Bring flowers and leave them on her doorstep? Just pray from afar? Anyone have any ideas?

Sam and I just got back from an appeal hearing with MassHealth. Remember that one time when I went to the ER without insurance? And remember that other time when Sam went to the ER without insurance? The story of why we didn't have insurance and why we didn't even have the option of insurance is long, and no one wants to hear it. The basic word is, we make too much for them to help us out with the $12,000 price tag for those visits. We whined, officially. Because trust me, we're not rolling in that kind of dough. And they said, officially: "Sorry. That actually does sound pretty lame and unfair. But we can't help you. Pay up, Puppies." We'll try a few other minor routes, but at this point I'm guessing it would cost more to fight than to pay, and the fight is with state laws. So I'm pouting. Pout pout pout.

I opened up a few cans of garbanzo beans to make a salad, and my cats came dashing into the kitchen as if I were opening kitty chow. No, they were more enthusiastic than that. It was like their long lost brothers were trapped in those cans, and I had finally agreed to release them. I thought they'd be deterred when I set a few on the tile, that they'd see they were boring old beans. But they were even more excited. MeowmeowMEOW they said. Sam's cat, on the other hand, was not as thrilled with his bean. He gave us the look that he gives us when he sits patiently by the table and we finally offer him a bit of soy-meat. It's this look that so clearly says, "Humans, that's not food. I'll be fine, really. I'm just worried for you two. You're eating dirt." Which seems a normal reaction for a cat. Clearly, my cats are hippies. They cry for spinach, for brown rice, for SEAWEED. And now, garbanzos.

Dumping snow, now. Maybe, just maybe, we'll have another day off school tomorrow. And then I can stay home and get really bummed out again. I LOVE doing that. In other minor news, last night Sam and I went to CVS to pick up a prescription. When I was backing out of my parking spot, I stopped short because there were three missionaries walking behind me. One of them held up his hand, and I was convinced he flipped me off. CONVINCED. Horrified, ready to scold the naughty young one, I threw open my door and yelled, "Excuse me, but did you just flip me off?!" You should have seen the fellow shudder, cringe. I thought he would weep. "No no! I was just holding my hand up to say thank you!" I apologized, told him I was LDS, hence my concern. For some reason this incident was wildly funny to me. I don't know that the poor missionary felt the same way. Oh, and, I slipped on the ice again today. This time I landed on my side, which is also cushy. It ...

Don't get me wrong, it was still fairly cold today. And I hear the hoggie saw his stupid shadow. But it was actually, sort of, warmish today. A bold 42. I didn't even wear my coat once I got to campus. I could imagine what it will be like when my long sleeve shirt is unbearable. And yet, I fell on my tush. I've been stepping lightly for weeks now, mincing my way like a grandma down our sidewalk so as not to slip. Of course this evening, when the warming weather brought down my gaurd just a touch, I ate it. Good thing I have such a cushy rear, and good thing I landed on it and not my bones.