Let the Festivities Begin

Yes, it is that time of year. Bring on the fun.For the first time in I don't even know how long, I stuck my hand inside of a slimy pumpkin and pulled out of all of its guts. It was not pretty, but I was not alone.
I was at the home of Darrin, Linda, and Layla Thornton, the gracious hosts of a department pumpkin carving fest.
This is how it went down:

First, I took an ordinary pumpkin.

Then, I let Mr. Docker draw on it.

(Ok, I drew on it too, but even the drawing I did had been mapped out by him on the back of a piece of garbage. The man is an artistic genius.)

Then I took a knife and started hacking. It was great fun.

Soon enough I ended up with this guy:

We decided his nose has character.

We introduced him to the rest of the gang.

Then, we sat around eating and talking until it was dark enough outside for our Pumpkin Parade. The neighborhood is still talking about it.

(There's my guy, leading the way. So proud of him...)

At the end of a good time, I took him home and placed him outside of my door. I will sleep well tonight, knowing he is out there, protecting me.

(I think I will call him George.)

Why wouldn't I?

A road trip on a Monday in the middle of a full semester is typically not a good idea. When your beloved boy and his beloved girl are somewhere in the state, however, you make it happen.

Hence I found myself taking a lovely drive this week to meet them for lunch. We ate, we talked, we reveled in each other's presence, we were blinded by the sun. Then we wiped a tear and parted ways.

At times the fullness of life is overwhelming.

(My cup runneth over...)

Lauren Lisa and Geoff Get Together and Hash Out Life: The Fall Installment

Lisa, Geoff, and Frankie arrived on Friday night for our annual fall get-together (a spin-off of our annual January get-together known as "The First Weekend in January Lauren, Lisa, and Geoff Get Together and Hash Out Life").

The key components to these weekends are: 1) Food, 2) Drink and 3) Talk. Everything else is supplementary.

We began our togethering with a brilliant bottle of wine, and within five minutes of their arrival had jumped into conversation the depths of which can not be re-constructed here. Eventually we made our way to bed.

The next morning we woke ourselves up with coffee and my special multi-grain pancakes with mixed berry compote. We indulged in the laziness of a morning together, but eventually got ourselves cleaned up and ready for public consumption. We ventured downtown for lunch and a walk, including our annual picture on the steps of old main.

When we had had enough sunshine, we dropped Geoff off to watch football while Lisa and I did a bit of Halloween shopping. We returned weary and worn and ready for our margarita master to go to work. Go to work he did, and happy he made us.

We then leisurely began our evening of food preparation (though in a heightened state of banging-around thanks to the power of the tequila we had ingested--we don't call him the margarita master for nothin'...)

I took on the orange and balsamic glazed chicken while Geoff commandeered the mushroom risotto.

By the end of our efforts, even Frankie wanted in on the action.

We merrily ate with expressions of awe and rapture, while consuming another bottle of deliciousness. We are spoiled.

The culminating event of the evening, however, was the dessert to end all desserts. We first encountered this cake at a restaurant in Queens during our January gathering earlier this year, and scoured the internet to find the recipe. Involving puree of dates (which sounds questionable but makes for an intriguing texture and taste) and a sauce that is beyond this world, this cake has been dubbed "Little Baby Jesus Cake" by the restaurant we found it in due to an expression one might make when taking one's first bite. I cannot bring myself to be so glib, so I simply refer to it as THE CAKE. THE CAKE was good.

We finished off our weekend with church on Sunday morning, lunch, and fitting in all of the topics of conversation we hadn't had time for. We luxuriated in the luxuriousness of being together. Then, when we couldn't put it off any longer, we sadly packed the car and said our good-byes.

Happily, there is not much distance between late October and the first weekend in January!

We are (an aging) mountain

In October of 2007, Yi-Ting, Yu-Chen and myself ventured out to Iowa for our first CIC conference. We were wide-eyed and naive, fresh-faced and full of life.

We discovered somewhere along the way that if you put me in the middle of the two of them, we form a mountainous shape. This is especially amusing, when one takes into consideration that the symbol for the word "mountain" in Mandarin is essentially the shape we make (two shorter lines, one on each side of one longer line).

This discovery has led to pictures such as the following:

(Thank you to Mr. Docker for documenting our rear-ends in such a lovely manner.)

(Occasionally I like to let my girls feel a little bit more up to my level, so here we put them on some steps....)

In subsequent pictures we fear that we no longer look so young and fresh-faced.

It seems to us that we are tired, cranky, cynical. No more wide-eyed wonder. This program has aged us, and we are mourning our youth together.

However,

this picture (taken at CIC 2009) reminds us that there is beauty in knowing each other more, in knowing who we are as thoughtful and mature women instead of as the young carefree things we once were. There is also beauty in sharing this journey--

We are a strong (if aging) mountain.

Um, seriously?

Please note the date: October 17. Now, what do you notice about the following picture?I see red leaves and snow. I feel that this is an anomaly.

It was awfully fun, however, to put on my boots and go tromping through the snow this morning on my way to pick up work at my office.

There are trees down all over town (and if you look carefully at the back of this picture you'll see the trees down in my yard) and many are without power, including my friend Heather and her family (which includes her visiting in-laws). This means no hot water, which means that I may have some visitors later seeking a shower. It also means in many cases no heat, so people are huddling around fire-places and gas stoves...

I, being one of the fortunate ones, am warm and cozy in my warm and cozy apartment (no heat or power issues here!). It is the perfect day for getting entrenched in work and baking while the snow swirls outside. I think I will make some pumpkin bread, in honor of the fact that it is, after all, only October 17.

O-H-I-O

Every year during the month of October the music education faculties and doctoral students from all of the Big Ten schools gather together for what is known as "the CIC conference". CIC stands for "coalition for institutional cooperation", or something along those lines. It is, of course, an academically rigorous crowd. This does not mean however, that we do not know how to have a good time.

For instance: This year the conference was held at Ohio State, a drivable distance from the Happy Valley (unlike Year 1: Iowa and Year 2: Minnesota). Hence, we packed ourselves into a van and tooled along Route 80 for a mere six-and-one-half hours.

The highlights: Madlibs (pictured here with the venerable Robert Kenneth Docker presiding). The lowlights: The lunchtime pit stop at Burger King. It turns out a whopper jr. is pretty much yucky in any state.

We arrived at our hotel in time to check-in, change, and hop on the bus shuttles provided to take us over to the campus for the kick off reception. (Every year is kicked off by a reception of yummy eats and delectable drinks, and general milling around for the purposes of reconnecting with those you've connected with in previous years.)

The real fun, however, begins with the annual pool tournament.

It may go without saying, but doctoral types tend to be competitive types. Hence, we find our way to a local pool hall, get ourselves some beer, and get down to business.

I typically don't represent my school on the pool table, mostly because I have too much fun talking and taking pictures. Here, however, is a representative sample of Penn State-- representing.

The highlights: Our very own Mr. Docker and Dr. Gardner made it to the final rounds. The mediumlights: That meant that I was sitting in a pool hall at 2 am. The lowlights: Sleep?

However, the next day began bright and early, with plenty of good coffee provided by our hosts. We listened to brilliant people talk about brilliant things, and my little brain was going haywire as I connected what they were saying to what I am thinking about these days. My "dissertation notebook" (as I have come to call it) is fuller, I am delighted to report. (I would be even more delighted if I could just hand in my "dissertation notebook" and have them hand me back a diploma. I think the system would be much more useful if this was its practice....)

Late in the afternoon, after all the brilliant people finished talking, the up and coming brilliant people lined up their research posters in a beautiful room in Ohio State's beautiful new library. This would include Yu-Chen, Yi-Ting and myself. (You can't see it from here, but our nametags say "up and coming brilliant person" on them. They believe in putting on the pressure in the CIC. They have standards to meet after all...)

I can only speak for myself, but it was a fruitful time of conversing with faculty about the value of our work. (It is also reassuring to note that our work was deemed valuable by those we talked to, as the alternative is much too depressing to think about for too long....)

The reward for the efforts of all brilliant people, up and coming and otherwise, was a delicious dinner at an Italian restaurant in downtown Columbus. Our table was situated right next to the band, so a few of our members naturally found their way into the ranks (i.e. Mr. Docker on fiddle with Dr. Gardner on bass guitar, as well as an occasional tambourine not pictured here). This was fitting, as Penn State does have a reputation (at this conference and otherwise) for making the party the priority. (Yes kids, we know how to have a good time.)

All in all, a good trip. Now I just have to orient myself to the fact that tomorrow is Saturday (why does it feel like Sunday?) and that there is a pile of work on my desk (x2: home & school...) But first--I think it's time for a little bit of old-fashioned sleep. ;-)

Let's Go State!

Keith and Marisa arrived on Saturday morning to partake in a little bit of State College madness: Penn State Football. Almost immediately upon their arrival we got on our way. We hiked into the woods so that we could avoid traffic, and gained the extra benefit of a beautiful fall day in the midst of changing leaves. We remarked on how much we love fall in the woods.

I wanted them to meet with some of my State College friends as well as some of my visiting Harrisburg friends at various tailgates but, sadly, we only had time for quick introductions before we had to get into the stadium.

We stopped for a quick moment, however, to get Keith all set for his Penn State football experience, since he is our true fan.

Then, we took some pictures to remember the moment for the rest of our lives.

Once inside the stadium, however, Keith took off in excitement to get to our seats. I had to laugh as Marisa and I jogged along behind him.....

(Almost there!)

I loved the half-time show, which was based on various movie themes. This one is referring to Back to the Future (I think...). My favorite was the tribute to Rocky, where the band formed two stick figures with gloves that moved toward each other as if to engage in a boxing match, all while playing the Rocky theme. Very clever.

This is not to say that I did not love the game itself: Though Penn State was not up against a challenge, the stadium still went wild anytime our team did anything slightly good, and at one point I had to sit down because the floor was moving (I am not always good with heights, particularly when the floor is moving. Bring on the dizziness....).



The weather was perfect for a fall game--a little bit warm when the sun shone on us, with the perfect amount of chill in the air.

We returned home in the late afternoon and got comfy. I made some chili and some apple crisp, and we settled in for a few rounds of UNO and a movie. (We began to watch the movie after I told them they could leave, since I COULD NOT seem to win a hand. They got me, every single time....)



This morning we woke leisurely up, I made us pancakes, we went to church. Afterward, we picked my cousin Rebecca up and came back for homemade pizza with salad for lunch. We did some shopping just for the fun of it (though lovely Keith helped me find an external hard drive for my aging computer), and returned home for a final bit of chatting and being together (not to mention some brownies left over from the day before...). Then, sadness upon sadness, we parted ways so that K & M could get back to NJ and back to their real life.



Once more a lovely weekend of leisurely sibling fun.

(I have said it before and will say it again: When it comes to family (and many other things of course...) I am blessed. Blessed, blessed.)

Dave:1, Spleen: 0

Meet our contenders:

In the left corner, OUR DAVE:

Source of great delight to all who know and love him.

In the right corner, we have HIS SPLEEN.

According to medem.com,

"The spleen is an organ that lies behind the stomach on the left side of the abdomen. It serves as a graveyard for old or flawed red blood cells (oxygen-carrying cells) and as a storage site for blood and platelets (essential for clotting). The spleen also clears bacteria and is important for proper immune function, especially in fighting bacteria."

Also a source of great delight when functioning properly.

One fateful day, three years ago tomorrow, Dave and his spleen met up in a dark alley.

(Alright, more specifically, they met up on a football field.)

What follows is my sisterly perspective:

I called Dave on a beautiful Saturday in the fall, just to see how he was. He told me he thought he had broken a rib from being kneed in the chest while playing football and, while his friends continued to play football outside, he was going to try and sleep for awhile to see if he might feel better (he seemed to think that this was the cure for ailing ribs, and I did not try to talk him out of it--it seemed entirely reasonable to sleep off his pain).

A few hours later I got a call from my Dad, who was driving to Trenton with my brother Keith because Dave was in surgery for a ruptured spleen (alas, not a broken rib).

This was a much better phone call than Keith got, which involved merely my Dad on the other end of the line shouting "He ruptured his spleen! He ruptured his spleen!"

(In fairness to Marlo, he had been left alone for the first weekend of his life while his wife and the mother of said "he" took the first girls-weekend-get-away of her life when all of this occurred.)

Let's go back to the spleen: when I say "ruptured" I mean "split entirely in half". And, again in fairness to Marlo, the Doctor who called him said he had to get into surgery immediately and did not have time to even give details of how to find the hospital. We found out later that had Dave slept off his broken rib as he had planned, he would not have woken up.

Let me say that again: HE WOULD NOT HAVE WOKEN UP.

We are forever grateful to the fraternity brother who realized that this was a much bigger problem than a cracked bone.

Three years later we are jubilant to say:

Dave won.

Sorry spleen, we're not sorry to see you go, if that's the way it had to be.

We won too.