Bad Squirrel!

In the above photo you will find my youngest fur child doing something very naughty. She loves the fridge magnets and we thought moving them to the top of the fridge would be a deterrent. Here are the texts from Todd and I regarding this incident:

From Todd: Walked in the door and saw this happening. Busted.
Me: Bad squirrel! Bad! What was she after?
Todd: It looks like she was after the Hungry Girl Cookbook

The next day, at work, I emailed this photo to some of my friends. As many of you know, Todd and I are vegetarians but we're not crazy. We won't force you to eat tofu or make you feel guilty for ordering a hamburger and we definitely don't force our carniverous children to "go veg!"

So the reply that one my friend sent made me laugh so terribly hard. From the incredible Miss B:
"I think she was desperately, and in vain, looking for a meat and fish cookbook."

Mrs. D goes to Sacramento

I know it was all a sham, but I love Sacramento.

I once told my favorite professor that my greatest regret is that I was never able to participate in the UCDC internship program. For those unaware, this is where for 6 or 8 weeks you spend a summer in Washington DC working for a senator, congressman or some federal agency. It's CRAZY expensive and who has 8 weeks off work anyhow? Anyway, it was never in the cards for me but I had another opportunity presented to go along with a faculty union in California to lobby on behalf of higher education and I jumped.

Todd asked me when I told him about it "Are you going??" and I didn't even need to reply. Are you kidding???! Who gets the opportunity to tell people with power, face-to-face, that education is important and that my colleagues are having to drop out because of tuition skyrocketing, classes not being offered, and myriad other pressures?

I flew up and back in the same day with student and union reps and sat in front of assemblymen and assemblywomen to tell them about 3 bills that will help make public universities in California whole again. I was on a team of 5 - 3 students, 2 faculty and we had 5 appointments with various legislators in our district. Though I doubt they will all vote in our favor, they do, by and large, understand the importance of education but not in the way that the average CSUF student does. They come from wealthy families who financed their educations and one even said "My daughter is paying these fees right now too, well, I guess I'm paying these fees..." Ya, that's what I thought.

They don't know the pressure of working full-time while you're going to school, they don't know the anxiety of surprise tuition increases two weeks before the semester begins, they don't know what it's like to pay $1600 a month for a decent apartment, they don't know what it's like to have to give things up in order to get an education. But they do now. They heard it directly from the students and the educators.

And oh my god, the professors. While the Chancellor's salary has increased 66% since 1998, the professors have seen cost of living increases about 1/3 that proportion. The number of faculty is steady and, as more students are admitted, fewer classes are offered, larger class sizes, more papers to grade, more office hours, more assisting students find resources and so on. These professors are the best professors I've ever had and they deserve equitable pay.

Anyway, it was magical. I bought a booklet from the capital building that is like a yearbook of California legislators with their names, schools, political affiliations etc. I know, super nerd. I met a man on the plane home who lobbies for K-12 schools and he told me to watch out, lobbying is addicting and I believe it. I'm already signed up for next year's lobby day :)

Where is my bubble?

Sinus Infection #2,789 began on Friday night. I am so sick of these things, I could puke. I went to the walk-in on Sunday. I hate going to the doctor but I thought you were supposed to go within two days of feeling crappy but that is apparently not true for sinus infections, just the flu. 

Please see below for my prescribed regimen:
1. take an allergy pill every night
2. sinus spray every night
3. nasal rinse twice a day (in the shower in the morning, before bed)
4. 2-4 tabs every morning and night of pseudophedrine
5. if I know I'm going to be anywhere near something that affects my allergies like sitting in grass, being around smoke etc, I'm to take an ADDITIONAL allergy med like Allegra or Claritin

Most of you who know me know that I deal with things by joking. I hate being sick so instead of being pathetic and crying and feeling sorry for myself I asked the doctor if this regimen was in lieu of being put in a giant hamster ball. The doctor laughed, a little. Todd and I debriefed later about how we couldn't tell if the doctor was pissed at me or was joking too.

ANYWAY, back to the regimen: Now, I'm not a doctor but this seems like a lot, right? I was up from 3:30-4:30am this morning talking to the cats in a total fugue state but I'm not nearly as sick as I was yesterday and I'm at work so this stuff must be working, right?

It just seems...like a lot. I also kinda feel cracked out, but in a good way. More like "there's work to be done!" and not like Jessie from Saved By The Bell "I'm so excited...I'm so..." crash. I'm a little sweaty like I'm having premature hot flashes too. I'm worried I'm going to dry out.

If someone could just swing by around 2pm to make sure I haven't shriveled up, that'd be great.

Bloods or Crips?

Almost every morning Todd and I leave for work at the same time. We get in our cars, drive out of our complex together and then part ways as I get on the freeway.

Today was of particular interest because as we were leaving, he was pointing frantically so I pointed frantically back until I realized he was directing my attention to a duck waddling down our sidewalk. You can't help but be happy when you see a duck waddle, seriously.

But then I saw him do something strange: it looked like he was tying a bandana around his head...like he was about to go shake some banks down for cash. I will admit that part of me was relieved that our money worries were over but then I realized I'm a "steward of public funds" and, well, it'd just be wrong.

So I called him and this is our conversation:
Me: Hi honey!
Todd: Hi!
Me: Did that duck make you happy?
Todd: Yeah
Me: Honey?
Todd: Yeah?
Me: Are you in a gang?
Todd: No....
Me: Are you tying a bandana around your head?
Todd: No, just my neck.
Me: Why?
Todd: So my hair lies flatter.

I guess I can just be grateful it wasn't a dew rag and that he'll take it off when he gets to work.

Information, 5cents

I get asked questions all the time, from perfect strangers; it's hereditary. Last week Todd and I were walking at the Tustin Marketplace and a woman screeched over to us in her car with her blind mother in the passenger seat and asked "Excuse me honey?! Do you know where there's a Payless Shoe Source around here?!" I of course did and directed the woman to the Payless. "You'll want to head out of this parking lot, make a left..." etc. Todd gave me the knowing look that only someone whose been shopping with me as many times as he has can give; the 'it's-always-you' look.

That same week a woman asked me in an aisle at Dollar Tree if the markers she had in her hands would work on t-shirts. "No, those aren't fabric markers. I think they'd bleed and then just wash right out." She seemed satisfied with my answer and I told her to go to Michael's in Orange.

This past Saturday night I went out with some girlfriends and this man approached me out of the 5 of us to inquire about the relationship status of one of the girls. Here's the exchange:
Him: Hey, is your friend single???
Me: Which one?
Him: The Asian one over there.
Me: No, sorry
Him: Oh, so she has a boyfriend?
Me: Yes, they've been together a long time, it's not even worth trying
Him: Do they live together?
Me: Yes
Him: Oh. Then they should get married.
Me: I'll let her know...
Then we had a very nice conversation about him being a Marine and having driven in from Twentynine Palms. He and the friends that were with him that night will be deployed in June to Afghanistan for 6 months. I wished him well, thanked him, told him to be safe. He seemed satisfied with that even though his dream girl was taken.

My favorite stranger accost of all time happened at the Target in Santa Ana. After paying for my items and leaving the store, I was literally chased by a British couple "Excuse me, Miss! Excuse me!" I don't normally turn around but I turned when it was getting louder and more frantic: "Yes?" "Do you know where we can get some discount luggage??" Of course I did and wrote out directions and a little map. They'd apparently lost their minds at Disneyland and had a ton of stuffed animals they needed to ship back to the United Kingdom.

I'm not sure if it's my glasses or if I look like I know where I'm going or perhaps I look friendly? I wish I could poll people but I'm not sure they'd even know if I asked them why they came to me. People think glasses make you look smart so maybe that makes sense but my mom says I scowl so I assume a 5'11" woman with a scowl isn't the person you'd be drawn to to ask for things. But it never fails, in a big crowd of 100 people, I will be the one drawing you directions to the closest puppy parlor so you can take your poodle in for a good shearing.

Zeus is a God

My husband has hair trauma. Whenever I tell him his hair's getting long, he either tells me like a defiant 5-year-old "no it's not" or he shoots me a pained look and launches into a several-day-long internet search to find a good hairstyle. He emerges and presents me with a photo of how he would like his hair to look.

I know what you're thinking: 'But Jessica, you never went to beauty school, you have a degree in Social Ecology and a minor in Digital Media and though I have no clue what those things mean, I am fairly sure they have nothing to do with hair'. And you're absolutely right. I once dyed a boyfriend's hair black and I'd once dyed mine purple but that ends my experience with hair.

But this exile into the world of hair is my own fault.

One week before graduating from college, I hauled Todd to the Paul Mitchell School of Beauty so we could both get our hair done. I was totally broke, working at a food bank and trying to finish out the damn year so we couldn't go somewhere fancy. He was just getting a haircut and I was getting a cut and color.

We sat in the waiting room and saw some really great hair walk out of the store. I was called first and told the two girls who were consulting with me that I wanted "dark blonde". They seemed to understand English and what that hair color might be and walked away to mix color only to come back and each take one side of my hair. It turned out dark BRUNETTE and was patchy since the girls were likely new. I was not excited but it was like $30 for a cut and color and I though 'Oh well, I'll figure it out'.

But poor Todd...oh. It pains me to think of it even now. Todd got the call that Zeus would be cutting his hair. Zeus was a latin man (using the word "man" generously here) with Robert Smith hair that was raven black with hot pink streaks, painted nails and what can only be referred to as "excessive flair". He started Todd off with a 45 minute hot oil scalp massage. Yes, 45 minutes. Then he proceeded to butcher Todd's wonderful hair. And I mean BUTCHER. It took 3 hours and when we finally got to the car, I started crying.

"I'm sorry...it's just...you look like....a lesbian mom!"

Ever since then, I've been Todd's hair dresser. It's not such a bad gig since he usually pays me in craft supplies and I do surprisingly well for having absolutely no experience whatsoever. We also get a good kick when he throws the hair I've cut off the balcony and it looks like a shredded muskrat on our sidewalk. But I'm getting nervous. Nini's wedding is in July and last month he declared he'd be growing his hair out. I generally like his hair short and I know there will be a million photos happening in a very short amount of time. It's become a little mullet-esque. But hey, if it makes him happy and he's not having to party with Zeus, what do I care?