STOP RAISING TUITION

Since I started at CSU last Fall, my tuition has been raised 3 times and this fall is the highest: 12%. (This will translate to about $200).

The email I received this morning stated:
"On July 12, 2011, the California State University Board of Trustees voted to increase to increase Fall 2011 tuition fees by an additional 12%. These fee increases will be posted to CSUF student accounts beginning July 22, 2011."

I can't help but wonder if the 12% was decided on the 12th for a reason, like, they couldn't come up with something better and one of them yelled "hey! today's the 12th! how about 12%" and then they all shook their heads in agreement at what an inspired meeting they'd had. Oh, and surprise, the costs are going up one month before school starts. As with almost everything I've experienced at the university, it's ALL last minute.

Last semester I received a notice 10 days before class started that I could be dropped from my classes if I didn't provide proof of some immunizations. Well, my parents live in another state and God only knows where that paperwork is. So I had to be REIMMUNIZED. Which, I totally hate. I put as few chemicals and foreign substances into my body as possible, thank you.

I was feeling (not surprisingly) overwhemled when school began so I thought it might be a good idea to get a counselor as I'd done in undergrad at UCI. When I tried to go to the health center for counseling I was told the first visit has to be Mon-Wed between 8-noon. No after-work hours are available so I never went.

I was notified I needed to take a prerequisite too late to register before school began last fall so instead of either taking this summer off or taking care of it before school began so I could take other classes, I had to take it this summer.

This all sounds pretty bleak but the real reason I go there are the professors. They are dedicated to the students, period. They meet with you before class, after class, during office hours, they take calls, emails, they Skype, they give out their contact information so you can ask them about work projects, they support and assist us in ways that go FAR BEYOND their meager salaries. And the president of our university, well, he's gotten raises the last two years.

So yes, I will pay the 12% increase, I have to. But I don't have to like it. I'd like it if my 12% increase went to my professors. I'd GLADLY fork over an extra $200 for them.

30 before 30

A working list of all things I want to do in the next 2 1/2 years. I saw a friend post one on her blog and it seemed like a good plan. However, I can't come up with 25-30. Any suggestions? (Please don't say have a baby, that's AFTER all this...) It might not all happen before 30 but hey, at least I'm thinking about it.

1.    Get a masters degree

2.    Publish a short story

3.    Publish a paper in a nationally-recognized journal

4.    Run a half marathon

5.    Go to Europe with Todd for at least 2 weeks

6.    Get to a healthy weight and maintain it

7.    Finish my wedding album

8.    Adopt a puppy

9.    Get promoted to manager

10. Get on a nonprofit board

11. Present at a conference

12. Get accepted to the PA honor society

13. Sing karaoke

14. Perform stand-up

15. Try roller derby

16. Learn to screenprint

17. Learn to make crepes like my grandpa

18. Bake an apple pie from scratch

19. Create a spending plan

20. Put old photos into albums
21. Save for a house

22. Volunteer with Todd
23. Pay off all credit card debt
24. Learn to Sew
25. Learn to drive stick

26. Pay one persons' way each week (could be dinner, could be lunch, could be the toll for the car behind me)

27.

28.

29.

30.

The Bear

Todd's nickname is the bear because, well, he hibernates and likes to eat and can run in sprints but not for any distance and often knocks stuff over unaware of his elbows (are bears aware of their elbows?). The bulk of his bear-ness is apparent in our bathroom. Don't worry, nothing disgusting...

Three or four weeks ago I went to use my foot scrubby thing and when I picked it up, it shattered. Come to find out it had been neatly placed back in one piece after the bear shattered it while showering. Instead of telling me, he let me think it was all my fault.

The next week he had enough of our no-slip mat and tore it off the floor and threw it to the back of the shower like a dead animal pelt. When I asked about it, apparently it was slippery and he hated it, so he killed it.

Then, the week after that he came to me after his shower all worried holding my face scrubby thing. "It....I....when I was....it just....fell through the bars....and broke...."

But the bear is always forgiven for his poor house manners because of his large heart. He was so wonderful and supportive at Nicole's wedding last weekend (a post on that once I can gather some photos). He drove Nini and I to Del Taco at 1am, let us take over the room whenever we needed it, brought back-up drinks, danced, and DID NOT COMPLAIN ONCE about how freaking hot it was - this is of interest given that he is an Irish Cheese Bear and they must be cool at all points in time or else they suffer hot naps and prickly heat - two things that will send a bear into rages.

At one point during the wedding day I came to drop something off in our room and take a breather from maid of honor duties and I found him with our thermostat set to 65 degrees, draped over the bed wearing a cardigan and plaid shorts, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching Man vs. Wild.

And then today he sent me flowers to work. Bears are the most thoughtful of animals and Irish Cheese Bears are the most romantic of bears.

Sacajawea

My knowledge of American History is shoddy at best. It's embarrassing and every once in a while I ask a question about history that makes my husband look at me like a dog watching tv. The ultimate example of this was a couple years ago, while we were cleaning out a trunk in his aunt's house, I picked up a Sacajawea dollar coin and said "Sacajawea...didn't she, like, help the Pilgrims or something??" Todd will never let me live this down but he always lets me off the hook a little by reminding me I was tired.

I was wathcing a tv show the other day and a character on the show was asked when WW2 was. His answer was late 60s-early 70s. I will admit I feel a little better.

Then, we played Cash Cab with Todd's mom and I think Sacajawea has been erased for a while and now Todd can feel embarrassed for a change. I asked his mom a question that was something like 'what sentiment do you get when pointing your middle and ring finger downwards and the rest of your fingers outwards?' This is admittedly a terribly worded question but if you put your hand in a high five and point the ring and middle finger down, you get I love you in American Sign Language.

I enjoyed watching as Todd yelled at his mom that she was doing it the wrong way and then asked me "In what language?" Uh...the language of love?

A Late Father's Day Musing

I was listening to NPR this morning on the way to work and a little vignette made me cry. Story Corps is a project where NPR is recording little exchanges between family members. Today's was a father and his adopted daughter and it made me cry. You can listen to it or read the story here. The girl was a hoot, completely precocious and adorable. Her father was silly and at the same time, tender.

I feel like I've always been called by adoption and I think part of that might be my rationalization of it in my own life. To me, when you are adopted that means you are wholly wanted. A person or a couple make a conscious decision to bring you into their lives, love you, care for you. There is no accident in adoption.

Don't get me wrong, I was WANTED by my mom, my grandma, my grandpa, my great-granny, but there is still a part of me that knows I was not totally wanted by my biological father and I forgive him this.

My biological father helped make me and for that I'm grateful but there are not a lot of other nice things I can say about him. When I talk about my dad, I'm referring always to my stepdad who wanted me more than the man who helped give me life. And that is a precious gift. I love you, dad.