This is the house that Jenna built.

Where to start?  It's been close to 3 months since I've written, and a lot has changed since then.  I finally found a place to live in August, and as the last remnants of summer fade away I'm finally feeling at home again.  I'll most likely be leaving again in January, but there's no need to be ready to run quite yet.

My new job is going well.  Like anything, it has it's good days and it's bad days.  Thus far the good days have far outnumbered the bad, but today just so happened to be a not-so-good day.  The position I'm currently in is temporary, which means come January I will either move into another temporary position, be offered a permanent position (unlikely), or find another job.  I've had a lot of difficulty facing the reality of the situation lately, and although I believe I have a good handle on things I can't help but feel a little disillusioned in the reality of job hunting.

I've spent my life building an education - I've spent countless hours in the library, reading, studying, and generally committing myself to the pursuit of an education that would help me lead a comfortable life.  More than any of that, I have spent my time ensuring that when the time came to find work, I would be doing something that not only suited me, but that I felt passionately about.  Today I came to the realization that progress may actually end when you enter the job market.  As soon as you settle into one position, it becomes increasingly difficult to move away from that.  You have a steady paycheck, you build relationships with your coworkers, and inevitably become very well qualified for the position you are in.  If you stay in one position for long enough, where is the opportunity for growth?

So this is the house that Jenna built.  The house that she built by reading the books that got her into the school where she met the people who helped her grow and have the confidence she needed to network with the people who gave her the job which makes up the foundation of the house that Jenna built.  I don't know where I'll go from here - but I know that like most home improvement projects, this probably won't ever be finished.

Listen to "Speechless" by Lady Gaga 

dear craigslist, get real.

So I've moved out of my apartment in South Royalton, despite the fact that I still have no place to go.  I've temporarily set up shop in my friend Bart's place while he's away for the summer, and while it's a really nice space, it's only about 100 feet closer to Waterbury than I was before.  Proximity is kind of an issue since I'm still driving a '99 Jeep Cherokee Sport... (22 mpg is good, but not great.) 

As the housing search continues, I have found myself more and more frustrated by the Craigslist forum.  First of all, the fact that Craigslist is the largest and most popular site for this kind of thing is lame.  What happened to variety?  There isn't nearly enough oversight on Craigslist for the amount of use it gets, and there are a few specific points I think they need to address.  Of course, for the sake of your entertainment, I've outlined them here.

1. Post photos of the apartment you're listing.  My time is valuable too, and I'm not going to take the time to come see the place unless I see a picture of it first.  I don't want to have to email you for the photo, because that also takes time.  I'm not lazy, I'm efficient, and I'd appreciate it if others would respect the efficiency. 
2. When you do post photos, post them of the inside. I'm glad you're showing me the outside of the place, but I don't plan on putting my shit on the front lawn, so I'm going to need to see where I'll actually be living.  
3. See that little box at the top that says "location?"  Fill it in.  You're right, Vermont isn't very big, but it's big enough for me to need to know where the place is.  Again, don't make me email you asking where it is - that's a stupid piece of information to leave out and it just makes me angry with you.

These three pointers could really make Craigslist a better place.  I spend enough time on there looking through listings.  In exchange for my time, well-written emails, and visits to various holes throughout the state, I think I deserve a little bit of proofreading before you click "submit."  

That being said, I'm back to the search.  Listen to "Shark in the Water" by VV Brown. 

adventures in calvi land.

There are a handful of feelings in life that just can't be beat.  One of my personal favorites, and the one I most commonly forget about, is finally crawling into your own comfy bed after extended traveling.  After two delayed flights, $8.00 airport mini-pizzas, a sassy parking lot attendant and a short nap on the car ride home, I was finally able to snuggle up at 3 a.m.  Then woke up 4 hours later for class.

Theo and I spent this past weekend in North Carolina, visiting a group of his friends from college.  The Blue Ridge Mountains are truly a sight to see, and we had a really stunning view from our cabin.  Overall an excellent weekend filled with delicious food, lazing around in a river, and getting to know some really great folks.

We also saw Montel Williams in the Newark airport on the way there, which was interesting.  We had an early morning that day as well, and so when Theo exclaimed that the man standing over near the Starbucks had a famous-looking suit on I just thought it was a failed attempt at humor.  In an effort to be supportive I looked over and, in an equally surprised tone, stated "Yes, that is Montel Williams."  We were apparently speaking louder than we thought, because soon after I made this statement people started checking their smartphones for photos and confirming that it was, in fact, Montel Williams.  One lady went over for an autograph... but I didn't feel compelled to meet him.

In case anyone was unsure of who Montel Williams is, this is a pretty decent photo of him.  He didn't look quite this sassy the other day, but his suit was just as dapper.

In other news, while running today I nearly hit a deer.  I was running along, just finishing my first mile and really getting into my audiobook.  I usually kind of zone out at that point, and was mid-daydream when I saw something moving to my right.  I did a double take and realized there was a decent sized deer leaping out of the trees in my direction.  I leapt out of the way, and in true deer fashion the stupid thing swerved right where I jumped.  I came within 2 feet of nailing this thing with my body.  Physically running INTO a DEER.  You just can't make this shit up.  Everyone survived the incident, but a word to the wise- be careful when running at dusk.  Bambi isn't as smart as Disney portrayed.

Thank god the skunk wasn't there, or things would have been a lot less funny and a lot more angrily soaking in tomato bath... a good blog topic, either way.

3 more days of class, and I will officially be finished with my Master's degree.  Pretty exciting, especially since I have a job that I will start on Tuesday of next week.  Now the tricky part... finding a new apartment before I have to be out of this one!

It's been a long day to say the least, and it's time for me to get some much needed sleep.  Listen to "I Feel It All" by Feist.

employment, squirrels & swear words.

The good news is, I got a job.  The not as good, but still okay, news is that I have no place to live after July 5th or so.  In other news, I'm pretty sure my landlord has beginning stage dementia (which is no laughing matter) and will not remember when he asked me to get out... so I could probably stretch this through the end of the month if necessary.

My friend Carol from Brazil left today.  She's been living in my two room apartment with me for the past three weeks, which has made for a few interesting moments.  One of my favorite highlights is when I remembered that in Brazil they don't flush toilet paper down the toilet, they throw it in the little trashcan.  I knew I had emptied the trash the day she came, and was baffled when I found it nearly overflowing with paper two days later.  I changed it again, and much to my dismay, it filled up just as quickly.  Needless to say we were both a few shades of red when I had to explain to her that our septic systems here in the U.S. are designed to handle paper waste.

Carol brought with her another harsh realization - I swear way, way too much.  She inevitably picked up on my bad habit, and when I took her to the balloon festival and she started dropping F-bombs in front of a family, I decided I need to make a change.  I use a lot of substitute swears (i.e. "holy buckets," "son of a bee sting," or "shut the front door")  but I still use the F word way too regularly.  I'll be making more of an effort from now on... but no promises.  I am the spawn of John Calvi, after all.  Here's a taste of what an interaction with him is like:
Me: "Happy Father's Day, dad."
John: "Oh, it's fatha's day? No fuckin' shit. They all just blend togetha. Anyway, how the hell've ya been?"

There is still a rather large squirrel getting into my trash.  I would just bring the trash inside, but it fills up rather slow and it makes my apartment stink.  I'd rather pick food scraps off the porch than walk into a ripe kitchen... so I guess I'm stuck.  The neighbor is having some trouble with a family of Gopher's, though, and she's been talking about calling some guy in town to come shoot them.  If he shows up, maybe he'll consider taking care of my rodent problem as well.  Yeah right, who am I kidding?  If he showed up here with a gun I'd throw myself on the Gopher hole to protect them.  Let 'em live, and plant your cabbage elsewhere.

Not much else to report.  Listen to "Home" by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros.
 

alvin & the narcoleptic chipmunks

I came home for the couple of weeks between Spring semester and Summer Session I, thinking I'd have some time to relax, get some administrative stuff done in my life, etc.  What I once again failed to realize is that when I'm NOT home, nothing seems to get accomplished.  I always show up to a laundry list of items that need to be completed (including laundry itself) and end up spending the majority of my time completing those tasks.  I don't generally mind though, because I live here for free and if I just sat around I'd probably lose it.  I just like whining.


So yesterday I was trimming the hedges out front.  We live in the 'burbs, so we do have some wildlife.  I heard a scramble going on behind me, and turned to see what was going on.  Two particularly small chipmunks were playing near the driveway.  "Oh, that's cute" I thought to myself.  "Baby chipmunks... they're so tiny."  And then, before my very eyes, one the the chipmunks went from full speed to a dead stop, and keeled over.


"Holy buckets!" I said aloud, "did that chipmunk just DROP DEAD before my eyes!?!?!"  Needless to say, I was kind of hysterical.  The other chipmunk immediately took off, and while I usually try to avoid anthropomorphizing wildlife, I couldn't help but imagine he was thinking "Mom said I was going to give Theodore a heart attack if I kept chasing him like that, NOW WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL HER!?!?"


Now I like to investigate things, and even more than that I like to rescue things.  I immediately walked over to the downed rodent, not really sure what I was going to do other than look at it's dead body and maybe toss it into the compost pile.  I know that sounds callous, but in all honesty I couldn't believe the thing was dead, I thought I had to be seeing things.


As I walked over, some of my worst fears were confirmed.  I could see that it was still breathing, which made me think, "Good grief... am I going to have to put this thing out of it's misery???"  I can't kill things, and I knew if this was the case I was going to have to go wake up my hibernating bear of a brother and have him do it for me.  I didn't like this scenario, so I did what any rational human being would do, I sat down next to the chipmunks limp body and started talking to it in my best "talking to animals" voice.  If you know me, you know the one I'm referring to.


"Hey little one," I crooned, "you should get up now."  Now I've never believed that I had any sort of magical power, and I certainly am not going to start at age 23.  But I will tell you, that as soon as I told that chipmunk to wake up, it flipped back onto it's stomach and just stared at me wide-eyed and confused.


Obviously I jumped a little, too.  "Oh my god! You're not dead!" I shouted, like the thing was actually going to reply with something like, "Of course I'm not dead, silly girl!  I just FAINTED IN YOUR DRIVEWAY!"


The chipmunk sat there checking me out for about 3 minutes before starting to move again.  It started inching away, and still concerned that it might be injured I poked it with a stick.  It turned and looked at me, then shot off into the woods and up a tree.  Completely unscathed.  Healthy, even.


Um, are you kidding me?  Did that chipmunk just PASS OUT in the driveway, and then come to and take off?  Does that even HAPPEN to chipmunks???  Needless to say, I stood in the driveway looking around for someone to tell me I wasn't crazy for about 5 minutes before going back to my original task of pruning the hedges.  I'm pretty upset nobody saw it, but it does make for a great story.  Narcoleptic chipmunks... now that would be a great children's book.


When I went to let my dog Hannah out this morning, there was a rabbit in the yard that she obviously saw before me and chased down.  All I could think was "Let's hope that rabbit isn't narcoleptic, because if so, she's a goner."  The rabbit escaped, but I can't help but think that maybe I should stop drinking the water.


Until next time...

here comes the rain again

I've always been intrigued by the thought of there being greater forces at work.  I don't mean this in an awkwardly philosophical sense, but just that life seems to work itself out one way or another.  Maybe I'm just really lucky... or maybe I'm just too delicate to not try and see the bright side of things.  Either way, the spring has brought with it a sense of renewal, as it usually does, and I'm finding it a lot easier to breathe these days.

I've hiked up Kent's Ledge (the small "mountain" I live at the bottom of) a few times since the nicer weather came back.  It's about a 30-45 minute hike, depending on how fast you're trying to go.  Yesterday was the first day I made it up since the leaves came back though, and the early morning light over the mountains and sugar maples made me feel a little sappy... no pun intended.  My hiking partner Zooey came along too, and while I think she was far more interested in how she could catch a squirrel, she really seemed to enjoy the view from the top as well.

I'm worried that someday she'll charge off a cliff, but I hold out hope that she's smart enough to know when to slow down.  I also can't bear to stop her from chasing things she'll never catch... it's really entertaining.

There was a mist over the valley below that I was a little agitated about at first, but upon further observation I realized that the mist was bringing in that fresh, wet leaves smell.  I wouldn't have wanted that to go away, so the mist and I made peace.

I forgot my actual camera, although the image quality on my cell phone is surprisingly good.  

And another shot through the trees on the other side of the rock.  It was a beautiful, clear day once the mist cleared.

So today, as is generally the case after a long period of hot, humid days, we're anxiously awaiting the requisite thunder shower.  The sky has been teasing me all day, and the anticipation is starting to get to me.  After a gorgeous weekend,  I can't think of a better way to wash off the stickiness than with a nice loud thunderstorm.  How refreshing.

I wonder if thunderstorms give others this same feeling.  I can't explain their effect on me, but it's almost like being on a carnival ride where they lift you up really high and then drop you into a free fall.  Not quite that dramatic, but along those same lines.  There's nothing like breathing in the cooler air that always follows a good storm.  

Another Vermont summer in store, and I can hardly wait.  

Listen to "Brand New Colony" by The Postal Service

you're welcome.

Brace yourself.  I am about to share with you perhaps the greatest cookie recipe ever to have existed.  While it is not entirely my own, I take credit for the major improvements that made these cookies so amazing.

I'd also like to thank Bart Devon for taking such lovely photos.  The cookies are awesome, but I would not have been able to display their morsels in quite the same way without him.

Here is the recipe:

1c. butter, softened
1c. white sugar
1c. packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2t. vanilla extract
Splash of almond extract
2c. all-purpose flour
1c. blended oatmeal
1t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
2 c. chocolate chips
1c. chopped nuts

Directions:

• Cream together the butter with the white and brown sugar 
• Beat in the eggs one at a time, as well as the vanilla and almond extract
• Dissolve the baking soda in the hot water, and add this with the salt
• Stir in the flour, oatmeal, chocolate chips, and nuts
• Bake at 350, until edges are browned and tops look just firm enough

Now we really like coconut, and the batch we made today had some in it - which was delicious.  Your prerogative, though. 

This is what your batter should look like:

(The batter tastes great without being baked too... but for those of you weak enough to contract Salmonella or E. coli poisoning, I wouldn't suggest it due to the raw eggs.)

You can make them whatever size you like, although I prefer larger cookies because it keeps me from eating more than one... at least in theory.

This is the finished product, any artistic flair in the shot courtesy of Mr. Devon:

(What a lovely platter these cookies are on!)

Golden brown, gooey in the center, and completely satisfying.  When you try the recipe, love notes can be sent to my P.O. Box : )

Listen to "New Slang" by The Shins.

take back vermont

I've been meaning to update this for a while now, but seem to have misplaced the cord to my camera and am therefore unable to display any photos of my recent accomplishments.  I've had some great baking successes as of late, and as soon as I find that damn cord they'll be displayed for all of you interested in this blog.  As a teaser, I'll say I baked some of the best chocolate chips cookies ever... recipe to follow.

Now there is something else I've been wanting to discuss here, on a far less (or far more, depending on what you're into) domestic note.  Every Tuesday and Thursday I drive over to Rutland to intern, and in general I really enjoy the drive.  I leave before 7:00 am, and the early morning light, regardless of the time of year, has always been something that really resonates with me.  There's a feeling about being up that early that just makes me feel a little warmer, and a little more content with the state of things.  This is all well and good - but it's not the point I'm trying to make.

Before I get to Killington, I go through a small village called Pittsfield.  There isn't a lot TO Pittsfield really, just a gas station, a large farm, and some other random small businesses.  There's also a gigantic mansion on one side of the road, but I don't care to dignify that asshole's choice of property development, so he can go f*!k himself.  Now among these little shops, there is something else that always strikes me.  On the right hand side, just as you enter the center of town, is a large, hand painted wooden sign that reads "GUNS WANTED."  I have a photo of this sign, but like I said I have no camera cord and therefore cannot show you just how big this sign is.  To give you an idea though, I googled "GUNS WANTED," and this is what I came up with:

(Aside from this business owner's confusion over whether they are open or closed, this pretty much captures the essence of the sign I'm referring to. ) 

I'd like to state for the record that I have no particular position over the Second Amendment, and have absolutely no desire to keep anyone from their constitutional right to bear arms.  However, I do have some issues with these blatant requests for firearms displayed willy-nilly all over the great state of Green Mountains.

First of all, I can't help but get the feeling that there is some crazy underground militia gathering somewhere plotting out when to finally attack Canada.  Don't get me wrong, the Canadians would totally deserve it, but I have no formal combat training and it makes me nervous to imagine myself in the middle of an unanticipated war.  I didn't sign up for this folks.

Second, why the hell are you collecting guns?  I could see some kind of trading business going on, in which case the sign should read, "GUNS FOR TRADE," or "GUN SWAP," or some variation of that message.  Did these folks just never take an english class in high school?  Are they really, really bad at marketing?  Or, as I obviously am assuming, are they arms dealers?  All of these options make uncomfortable, to say the least.

Now there are obviously a variety of things that made me uncomfortable with this sign.  As I said, I drive by it often, and always think about what they could possibly be up to.  But today, it finally dawned on me.  Perhaps they aren't really collecting guns after all... perhaps they just put up the ugliest, most obnoxious sign they possibly could to piss off the asshole who built his mansion right in the center of town.  

So keep rocking it Mr. Fake Arms Dealer.  Your sign offends me, but not nearly as much as your neighbors garish display of wealth.  

That's all for now.  Hopefully I'll find that cord this week and get to post photos of my delicious treats... until then, stay classy.

Listen to "Joan Jett of Arc" by Clem Snide.

everything in its right place

Things were looking bleak on Thursday morning when I arrived at my internship.  Before walking back to my office, the ladies out front informed me that Rebecca had yet to return with my document stand.  I was obviously pretty bummed out.  I was bummed out, that is, until I rounded the corner to my nook to be welcomed by the following sight:

A closer look at the note revealed that the ladies out front were having a bit of fun with me.

This thing looked like it had really been through the ringer.  Stray wires, rust, the whole nine.  I had a good laugh about it though, and mustered my last attempt at a plea to Rebecca for the return of my stand.

My patience was rewarded Friday morning with the news I had been waiting for over a week.

For those of you who have not been following the Document Stand Saga up until now, please refer to my post from March 18th.  My document stand has been through enough, and it does not need to be subjected to your previous lack of interest.

I am happy to inform all of you that this morning, around 9:42 a.m., my document stand was returned.  We've appreciated your support through these difficult and trying times, and we are happy everything can start returning to normal.  My neck has been killing me.

Doing it what it does best, my document stand returned to work immediately and proudly displayed my documents all day.  Here it is with my Vermont River Planning Basin map:

I'd like to say that I feel a bit cheated out of the confrontation, and while I can forgive Rebecca for the initial theft, I am going to harbor resentment over the return for some time.  I was on the phone when she showed up- and so she really just snuck in and placed it in front of me while I was focusing on the phone call.  When I got off the phone and walked into the hallway to introduce myself, the voice she spoke to me in was small, and incredibly embarrassed.  I let my emotions get the best of me, and could barely utter the acrimonious tirade I fantasized about assaulting her with.  

Regardless of the anticlimactic encounter with Rebecca, I am happy to have my stand back and can already feel the difference.  

Victory is mine.

baking bread & sewing seeds

Since my document stand has yet to be returned, I've decided to take up some other hobbies in an effort to occupy my distraught and confused thoughts.

I've been baking bread for a couple of months now.  It began as an experiment a while back, and after destroying one loaf I've made it my personal crusade to make a decent bread.  I've yet to do so, but I decided to document my latest attempt for the world to see.  I'd like to say that I started out strong, and I really thought this was going to work out.  For a unicellular fungi, yeast is an awfully fickle creature.  

This recipe is for a King Arthur Flour "Guaranteed" Honey Oatmeal Bread, it contains the following ingredients:

3/4 c. lukewarm water

1 1/2 c. rolled oats

1 T. active dry yeast (or 2 3/4 t. instant yeast, although I've found in my adventures that even the instant stuff prefers being activated first...)

2 T. honey

1 T. brown sugar

6 T. butter

1/2 c. unsweetened applesauce (I only had the sweet stuff... maybe that's what screwed this up...)

1 1/2 t. salt

1/2 c. mashed potato flakes

2 1/4 c. all-purpose unbleached flour

2 T. oats for sprinkling over the top

Now in general, you're supposed to add the yeast to some of the water with a pinch of sugar and wait until it bubbles (about 15 minutes).  I'm not sure HOW MUCH it's supposed to bubble, but this was definitely bubbling so I went for it.  

After combining the ingredients, I had a dough that looked like this:

I covered the dough with a towel, and left it to rise in my pantry (because it's really warm in there) for a little over 2 hours.  The recipe said it's a slow riser, so I wasn't too surprised at the length of time it took for it to rise.  After about 2.25 hours, I had a dough that looked like this:

I didn't take them from exactly the same height, so it's hard to tell, but it has just about doubled in size, which is the idea.  From here, you "gently deflate" the ball and shape it into an 8" log that goes into a bread pan to rise for another 2 hours or so.  This is what it looked like after the gentle deflation:

Now this is usually where I seem to go wrong.  How exactly does one "gently deflate" a ball of dough?  I mean, it's pretty heavy, so when you pick it up it automatically sinks under its own weight.  I don't get it, but I'm 99% sure this was where I faltered.

After allowing this to rise for not 2, but 4 hours (I went to watch Lost and decided to give it some extra time) I brushed the top with milk and sprinkled the oats over the top.  I baked it in a 350 degree oven for 25 minutes, and this is what I ended up with:

Now I'm usually pretty self-confident about my baking skills, at times to the point of conceit.  But this has to be one of the sorriest attempts at bread making in history.  It's not even brown on top.  It tastes similar to what I imagine softened cardboard covered in honey tastes like.  An overall failure, I have to admit.

If anyone has any advice on how to make this better, please enlighten me.  I'm reaching my wits end with this bread making stuff and I don't know how much more I can take.  Tom Wheeler always made such delicious breads... I can't seem to understand why mine are bent on sucking.  Now the whites loaves I've been baking are getting better- but it almost makes me feel worse because they require so few ingredients.  I just don't know.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now in addition to making bread, I've also been working on developing my green thumb.  I have a nasty history of destroying any plant that comes within a certain radius of my responsibility, but my efforts as of late appear to be working.  Maybe they know I'm fed up, and they're just being cooperative to humor me.

My first project is a miniature herb garden my mother gave me the materials for this Christmas.  Here's how they look today:

My second project is more home made.  I didn't have a kit or anything, just a whole bunch of unidentified seeds from Auntie and some well intentioned advice.  This has also been surprisingly successful:

I'm not sure what I'll do with these little seedlings once they're bigger, but I'm trying to live in the now here and just cross that bridge when I get to it.  I know a few botanists who would cringe at my logic, but I'm okay with it.

And finally, much to the dismay of my oldest brother Billy, I reclaimed this plant that he rescued from my unskilled hands last year:

I repotted it, and didn't kill it.  There's not a lot more to say.  I'm pretty proud of this.

That's about it for updates.  When the stand is returned, you can look forward to hearing about it.

I'd also like to make a correction:  Rebecca is from Wetlands, NOT Stormwater.  I was berated for the oversight, and I apologize.

Listen to "West Coast" by Coconut Records

this aggression will not stand!!

Close your eyes for a minute, and imagine yourself in the following situation:

It's early on a Thursday morning, generally a good time of day for you because you've ventured away from South Royalton, VT and in addition to enjoying the crisp morning air, you got to watch the sun rise over the mountains.

You walk into your office, turn on the lights, singing to yourself the chorus of that annoying Lady Gaga song that's always on the radio- but today you don't even care, 'cause spring is here and life is good.  You go to turn on your computer, and that's when you notice it. . . an unusual open space to the left of your monitor.

"Hm, that's strange," you think to yourself.  "I know I didn't bring my document stand home this week... where the hell did it go?"  The strangest part is that the papers are still there, along with the blatantly sentimental magnet that was holding your papers to said stand.  So you're just sitting there, wondering who would have committed such a brazen act.

You ask around the office, thinking for certain that someone must have just borrowed it.  Everyone looks at you like you're crazy, of course.  "Document stand?  What in the world are you talking about Jenna?  Why would I take something from your office?"  And they're right.  The space is quite obviously occupied, so why in the world would someone take something from it that was so blatantly in use?

(I've included these photos to illustrate my point that there is no way to misinterpret whether my office is being used.  Who the f*!k leaves family photos behind when they quit a job?)

And then your supervisor shows up.  "I'm confused," you say in as non-accusatory a voice as you can muster, "I seem to have misplaced my document stand."

"Oh," he replies, "Rebecca from Stormwater was here the other day picking up some files, and she took it."

The room starts to go blurry.  "Is this a joke?" you think to yourself, surely nobody in their right mind would be so bold as to steal something from another persons office.  But you're just the intern, and apparently that scorpion woman didn't care who she was wronging.

Now back to reality.  In all seriousness, this really isn't that big of  deal.  It's the principle of the thing, you know?  That was MY document stand, given to me as a gesture of promoting proper cervical function by an old internship supervisor.  As strange as this sounds, that stand had sentimental value.  And who in their right mind takes ANYTHING from an office without asking someone first??  This woman doesn't even work in our office!! The last time I checked, the Rutland ANR offices were not the State Employee Shopping Centre.  Get real.

Who did this woman, Rebecca, think she was taking it from?  There was no mistake that the stand was in use.  I had documents on it, along with a magnet.  She took the time to remove my things from the stand, and then proceeded to steal from me.  There is no excusing this abominable behavior, and this aggression will not be tolerated.  

As it stands (no pun intended) my supervisor will be retrieving my stolen property from the thief sometime this week.  Until then, I'm left with this sorry excuse for a replacement:

I couldn't even bring myself to put the documents back on it.  I was far too riled for anything so reasonable.

Now I'll get that document stand back.  You mark my words.  Nobody steals from Jenna Calvi and gets away with it.  Aside from that guy who broke into my car sophomore year of college.  Or whoever stole my bike last summer...  god damnit!!

There is no proper resolution to this post, and so I'll wrap this up with a promise of revenge.  When all this is over, Rebecca from Stormwater will know my name- and she will rue the day she stole from my office.  

Rue.

The.

Day.

everything is illuminated

As the weather gets warmer, I find it increasingly difficult to remain indoors.  This is something I never anticipate; but as I enter my fifth spring in Vermont, I'm remembering just how beautiful this state can be when the colors start to return.

How refreshing to run outside again.  There are a whole range of stimulants you experience when running outside that you forget about during the winter months.  I'm almost surprised I was able to stay on the treadmill all winter without losing my mind... although I think I may have been close toward the end there.  I've celebrated the return of warmer days with a new pair of Brooks... another thing you forget after some time is how quickly running shoes wear down from use.  My back, hips, and shins feel all brand new.  Here's to hoping the snow stays away until next year.

I've been doing a lot more baking lately, and I'm getting pretty good at making bread.  I've only ventured into white sandwich loaves for now, but this weekend I'm hoping to try out an oatmeal loaf recipe I got from the King Arthur website.  I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

I'm painting again, too.  I've never been particularly good at it, but it's something I enjoy and it really relaxes me.  I also started an herb garden with some seeds my Mom gave me for Christmas.  Auntie has me starting some wildflowers as well, but I'm not sure if those are going to grow as easily.  We'll see- I've never had much of a green thumb, but it's worth a try.

Reading back through this entry, I'm starting to sound a lot like Martha Stewart.  I'll end by saying that my St. Patrick's Day was remarkably eventful.  I had class all day, got home, let Zooey and Piglet out, went running, got drunk with Allison and Sally, ate dinner, sobered up a little, watched Sex & The City with Laurie, came home, and decided to blog before going to sleep.  I'd say the day was an overall success.

Listen to "Wrecking Ball" by Mother Mother

it's cool to love your family.

Because the last post was so specific, I felt I should also include a brief update for my family.

Winter was here for a few minutes last week... and now, like a fleeting thought, it's gone again.  We lost power, school was closed for two days, and overall it was probably the worst storm I've been through here.  The Valentine's Day storm a few years back was bad, but at least we had power that time.

I'm not sure how much I trust the Farmer's Almanac anymore, and I realize that I've had far too much faith in the past in a weather report given by a small brown rodent.  Here in Vermont, it seems everyone has a theory on why the winter has been so fickle these past few years.  Most just chalk it up to global warming, but I've met my fair share of skeptics, and I appreciate their passion for alternate theories.  Either way, I'm ready to get out of this state for a while.

I'm still enjoying my internship.  I feel much better about it this week since I've actually accomplished something substantial now.  We'll see where it goes I guess.  Still working on the job search.  I have an interview in Boston next Friday, and I'm really hoping it pans out.  I'd have to live at home, but it would be nice to have some time at home again.

Today is a work day... writing some papers and cleaning the apartment.  Went for a run this morning... the air is still a little cold for my lungs, but we're getting there.

I got a new tattoo recently as well.  It's a small infinity symbol on the veiny part of my wrist.  It's covered by my watch for work purposes, but it's a reminder not to walk through life in a straight line to avoid ending up where I started.  It'll have to be touched up in a couple of weeks, but I'm really happy with it.

until I can laugh at my heart between your teeth

I wrote last time about a conversation I had during a weekend with some friends in Portland, Maine.  I wasn't really sure what to say about it at the time, but now that I've had a couple of weeks to reflect I think I could explain better why it had such a profound impact on me.

Love is so embarrassing.  I've done my fair share of launching head first into relationships that were probably about as doomed to fail as the economy.  Now while I'd like to think I'm the only who has ever felt this way when I'm wallowing in self-pity for that requisite week after- I'm most certainly not.  So why the hell do we so readily put ourselves through such pain and agony?  I don't have an answer, but I can honestly say that I'm really, really glad that I've done it.  Every time.

The conversation I had with Ross and Clint was about formative relationships.  You know what I'm talking about- that one relationship that really molded how you feel about romantic encounters.  For better or worse, whether you still can't look at that person's name on your Facebook News Feed, or you're still the best of friends, every time you get involved with someone new you'll think about that relationship and the things that went wrong and the things that went right.  

It's really easy to just feel bad about a relationship ending, go through the mourning phase, get pissed, rebound, and move on.  But I think it's an important learning process as well- something you should take time to reflect on and carry with you as a launch pad into your next gut-wrenching encounter with whatever sex you're into.  'Cause who knows... maybe this time it won't be so bad.  

Now I've been on both sides of this, and while I can justify the pain I've been through I cannot make up for the hurt I've caused.  Nothing will make it better, but I do regret how I've behaved at times.  I've learned from these experiences just as much though, and admitting I've been wrong also helps to ensure growth in the future.  I hope that the people on the other end of these affairs can say they've learned something as well.

So, in sum, despite the complete torment that so many relationships end with, I have no regrets.  I've had the great pleasure of meeting some really incredible people, and I'm proud to say I've known them in one life or another.  Life is about human connections- good and bad.

"Let's go get the shit kicked out of us by love."  -Sam, 'Love Actually'

Listen to "Fuck was I" by Jenny Owen Youngs

ready to run

You never start a conversation with Ross Beane thinking you'll make some profound discovery about yourself.  But it's happened more than once now, and I think I'll be more careful in the future about discounting the possibility.  Overall, a wonderful weekend with some good GMC friends.  Hopefully it won't be as long before we see each other again.  Although I've realized I'm not as good as I once was at late nights and getting little to no sleep, then attempting to function like a normal human on Monday morning.

I had my first phone interview this morning, with U.S. PIRG.  It went well, and I've been invited back for a second in person interview over Spring Break.  I'm looking forward to it, as well as the very real possibility of being cast into an unfamiliar state with a list of things to accomplish.  The salary leaves something to be desired- but I'm not thinking about it so much at this stage.

Has anyone seen my watch?  I lost it a while back and I'd really like to find it... I have an old one that I could just get a battery for, but I liked the new one.  It had a light, and I find myself in the dark more and more lately.

The spring was here for a moment or two this weekend, but it fled with a sudden snowstorm while I was sleeping last night.  Probably a good thing, since I've yet to learn how to ski this winter and I'd really like to give it a shot.  It's also barely March, so if Spring showed up right now we'd be in trouble.

Overall a lackluster entry.  Hopefully the next one will be more of a show stealer!  Until then, you stay classy.

"Strangers are exciting, their mystery never ends...

...but there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends." -Ani DiFranco

In the wake of last weeks unfortunate departure of Kellen Sams, I was able to witness one of the most moving demonstrations of camaraderie I've ever seen. While I knew there was bound to be quite a few alumni, I wasn't prepared to see as many faces as I did.  We weren't together for long, but it was still enough to remind me just how much I miss them all.

Craig's words in the beginning of the night have been ringing in my ears since.  I developed so many relationships throughout my time at Green Mountain College, and it really pains me to think of how few of them have been maintained. This is not meant to sound hokey or overly sentimental- I merely wish to make the point that we've been reminded (albeit in a really crappy way) of how short life can be.  I know I'll make more of an effort from now on to keep my friends close, no matter how much time or distance has come between us.  You can't justify the loss of a friend or loved one, but you can make sure to hang on and care for the ones you still have.

There's more to write about, but I'll have to catch up later.

of men and mountains

My first meaningful interaction with Kellen Sams was when I nearly poisoned him as a freshman. Not realizing the "seasoning" packets in the Mountain House meal I had just prepared for his dinner was actually silica gel, I almost let him eat it. He may have taken a bite before I slapped it out of his hand. After that, my interactions with Kellen involved nudity, building aid routes in the hallway, red wine, smelly paddling gear, tractor pulls, and a lot of other really fond memories. I'll always have those, and the knowledge that Kellen more than anything appreciated a good adventure. It's only appropriate that he went out doing what he loved so much- relishing in the beauty of the great outdoors. You taught me how to properly portage a canoe (by making someone else do it), that all of the maps and books misspelled the name of "Mount Kellenmanjaro," and how to use a Whisperlite without burning my face off. Thanks man.

"Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are naught without prudence, and that a momentary negligence could destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste, look well to each step, and from the beginning think what may be the end." -Edward Whymper

Montani Semper Liberi- mountaineers are always free men. Rest in peace Kellen- I'll see you later.

brake lines and axes and ringworm- oh my!

What a month. If having your heart smashed into a thousand pieces wasn't enough, losing a brake line in your car while you're driving it and then getting ringworm from the fitness center should do it.

Needless to say, the semester was off to a rocky start. I haven't been enjoying my classes as much as I'd hoped to, but I've made my best attempt at keeping things in perspective with the internship I'm doing. The whole thing was based around the idea that I'd be able to stay in Poultney with Elliott a couple of days a week, but he made sure to nix that plan the day he got back from Australia. It hasn't been bad though. I've had a lot more time to spend with friends, and I've also had a lot more time to appreciate the strange little things that happen every day.

This week was no exception.

Sunday I went to get breakfast with Meg. On our way back, I went to hit my brakes and noticed they were depressing way further than usual. "Don't panic," I thought to myself. "Meg is going to go into cardiac arrest if she knows you can't stop." Luckily for both of us, this happened to me just recently and so I knew how to get the vehicle home without any major catastrophe. Stellar. I'm going to have to pay for that.

Monday started out like any other day- woke up around 7, made breakfast, listened to VPR while I ate and cleaned up. Brian was coming by to follow me to the mechanic- who wasn't answering the phone. When I showed up, there was a hand-written note on the door that simply said "Skiing till the 15th- no drop offs please." Oh yeah... I'm definitely bringing the car to that guy.

Got home, went to classes, and headed back to change for the gym. When I got to the railroad tracks though, I heard a familiar beeping sound... the same beeping that had been coming from Laurie and Megan's dumpster... the same beeping that ended with Brian and I drinking too much at Crossroad's and jumping into the dumspter (Brian wearing Cole Haan loafers) to retrieve and destroy the fire alarm making all the racket. (And really, who throws away a smoke detector when it goes off? What ever happened to taking the battery out?)

Anyway- I hear this beeping and I know what it is... then I see my neighbor pacing around outside. I can smell smoke, so I tell her to call 911. I go to change, and come back outside to a patrol car, an ambulance, and a fire truck all parked in the small dirt road in front of my house. When I get down there, I overhear one of the firemen saying he needs to go in... and that's when he goes for the ax. Now I don't know about you, but seeing the thorough destruction of something like a door really gets me going. I was like a little kid on Christmas. It was the best day I'd had in a while.

The week couldn't get better... until it did. As I was getting dressed for the gym yesterday I noticed a red patch above my belly button. When I got a better look I knew immediately what it was... the same thing that plagued so many of my friends on the wrestling team in high school... RINGWORM. wtf.

So, on my way to work this morning I had to stop and get some anti-fungal cream. Of course all the name brand stuff is over 10$, so I wanted to get some Wal-brand alternative. The only thing there with the proper active ingredient I sought was jock itch cream. Not only was it jock itch cream, but it said JOCK ITCH CREAM in HUGE yellow letters. When I got to the counter, I assured the Walgreen's employee that I suffered from no such ailment, to which she replied "Okay hun." Good grief.

I promise future posts won't be quite so long- but there was a lot to update this time around.

Listen to "New Soul" by Yael Naim & David Donatien

here we go again

Back to SoRo for another semester of graduate school. While inevitably finding a job is the major motivator in this quest for a Master's degree, the weather sure is making me wish I were elsewhere at the moment. The cold has penetrated my bones now, and I'm at that point in the winter where no matter what you do to warm up, you always have a chill. Too bad lethargy isn't an option.

I started this blog as a way to expend some energy. I find writing to be the best way to exercise my brain while burning off some of the excess information I've acquired throughout my day. I have this tendency to be over observant... so having an outlet for that information makes my homework a lot easier to accomplish. At least in theory.

Two classes today, then starting my internship first thing tomorrow. I think that's going to be my best bet at feeling less clasutrophobic this year. I'll keep you updated.