Humans use this little baby... to straighten their hair out.

I took these pictures last week to illustrate my hair problem.





It's so long, it wouldn't even fit in the first picture!

I'm open to suggestions on what to do with it.

SNOOPY COME HOME!

Last night in my class we talked about introductions. There are many types of introductions, and then we had to talk specifically about how to write an introduction for a story.

I suggested that the class start their story by setting the scene, explaining when and where it happened. And then I said that this is the most common way to start a story. How many have you heard that begin, "Once upon a time..." or "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Totally blank looks on "It was a dark and stormy night." "Seriously?" I said. "That's how Snoopy always starts his stories."

More blank looks.

"You people have never read Snoopy? Charlie Brown?"

No.

I wanted to rant like Carla, "Where are you people from?!! Where in the world do I live?!!" But I sat and thought, maybe I'm old. No, that can't be an age thing, I have a huge range of ages in that class. And then I was just sad. These kids are surrounded by information, so surrounded by constant narcissistic status updates that they don't get to enjoy simple things like good comics.

He's the boy who dissected a frog, did not wash his hands, and then ate a sandwich.

My campus has finally joined in the quest to stop the swine flu by handwashing. While the media and the scientists continue to duke it out amongst themselves over the usefulness of handwashing, my campus has decided to install Purell stations strategically throughout the various buildings.

I saw them and thought, hm... Good idea.

They are free-standing and automatic. So you just hold your hand underneath the dispenser and it squirts out a dollop for you.

Then I realized that every time I walk past these things, my hands are full of books, and I can't use them.

And then I asked my class if they were using them and they all said, "Using what?" "Where?" "I didn't even notice."

Last night, I was leaving class and decided to try the Purell station out.

Much to my surprise it squirted foaming hand sanitizer into my hand. And, out loud, I said, "What is this!" Then I tried to rub it into my hands, and there was way too much. My hands are much too small for this "standard" amount. So then I walked up the stairs to my office, and hand gross sticky hands, like a 3 year old.

And I had to wash them with soap.

How you doing?

Winter has arrived here in the middle. Again this weekend the forecasters are calling for snow...

I attempted to embrace the change (I'm totally a summer girl, much much happier in the summer), and must say that I was doing ok with it by looking super cute all week. And, without trying to sound like I am tooting my own horn, I really did look cute all week. My natural state was helped by some super cute jackets, necklaces, and my fabulous coat that I got on clearance last spring.

And the only time I got hit on, all week long, was Friday at the gym. Yes, that's right. At the gym. Where I was unwashed. And honestly, wearing clothes that I had already worn to the gym the day before. So maybe even a little smelly.

I went in to the gym and jumped on a treadmill as usual, for the 1/2 hour before the yoga class. Next to me was one of the men who also does the yoga class. So he started chatting.

One thing that just amazes me is how much people will talk about themselves. And how much they can tell you in 1/2 hour.

So in 30 minutes, I learned that he is 45, a security guard who works nights at an abandoned warehouse, divorced, has two daughters, had a 4 year relationship after his divorce that has also ended (so let's just call that divorced twice). Not only did I learn all of that, but I also learned that his daughters are beautiful, one is 19 and goes to Louisiana State, the other is 10, he doesn't like their boyfriends and would happily shoot them if he could, and I learned about two of his more exciting security breaches.

And that he thinks I'm beautiful.

I hope you won't judge me if I admit I made up a boyfriend.

I wasn't quick enough to say I was married when he asked. That was kind of early in the conversation, so it didn't occur to me to lie. Until my "no" caused him to respond, "What do you think of older men?" Later he said, "Well, you aren't married, but do you have a boyfriend?" And I said, yes.

From today's perspective, the whole thing was rather amusing. But then we both went to yoga, and I was worried that he would move over to where I usually go, so he was kind of throwing off my zen. Fortunately he didn't.

Perhaps my zen could have been restored after we got a few minutes into it, but the music the teacher chose just finished the job. It started with Pachebel's Canon.

I know, you are thinking "I love that song!" Me too. So it was totally distracting, because I was really enjoying it. That was followed by Copland's A Gift to Be Simple

And I enjoyed that one too much too. And that was followed by 2 hymns. Weird.

Cyclops, Storm, what do they call you, Wheels?

Have you ever made a joke, expecting that no one would get it and then someone does?

In my class last night, the night coordinator came in to give my students the evaluation. Yeah, the evaluation of the class and of me so I can't be in the room. Anyway, the night coordinator has a power wheelchair.

So after he left and I walked back in, one of the students made the comment that he had a wheelchair, "And they call him 'wheels.'"

I said, "Just like Professor X."

He was so excited that I got the joke. Even more excited was another girl, who did her fingers in a heart like this for me.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

It is Sunday again, and I feel like I should post an update. But I have just spent 5 minutes staring at a blank screen, wondering why I can't think of anything to write. And the truth has just hit me. I don't have anything to write because I spent the last week sick with the swine flu.

Here's how life went.

Saturday evening I thought I had just poisoned myself with spray paint. (Yes I'm spray painting again. When I get around to finishing, I'll post a picture).

On Sunday I was really sick. I stayed in bed all day.

On Monday I went to the doctor. Honestly I was expecting a little bit of panic. You know, for the nurses to force me to wear a mask as soon as I walked in the door. To be in isolation. Something.

No. Absolutely none of that. The little intern who took my blood pressure and everything didn't even bother wearing gloves when she took my temperature.

But the trip was a success because they gave me Tamiflu. And I headed straight to CVS.

When I asked for Tamiflu, I expected some panic. There was a slight flutter, but not because they were worried about a pandemic -- they were simply worried about running out of medicine. But they assured me they had my dose. So I got that and some Theraflu (ew).

I spent the rest of the day on the couch. And all of Tuesday and Wednesday on the couch. Seriously, yay for having a couch. And cable -- since I was too sick to be driving to the redbox.

Thursday I felt better and went to work. No panic anywhere until I got to work. One of my coworkers was Lysoling (yes, I just made that a verb) her entire office and all of the classrooms she teaches in. She has decided we need a campaign, because no one is cleaning properly. No panic from my students though, they just asked how I was doing and what I had. That's not typical, so it was nice of them. I had to come home at 2 pm and take a nap so that I could go back for my evening class.

On Saturday I finally felt good. Yay for being over the swine flu.