My guy cooks!

It occurs to me that it's been some time since I've given the blog and information on Mr. B. Our relationship's not perfect, but we have a lot of fun together and are a pretty good couple. He is smart, funny, has great taste in music (and is a good musician), is athletic and is a wonderful cook. (He is not photogenic and watches a lot of football, but you can't have it all, right?)

This is the gorgeous surf and turf dinner created for my dining pleasure by Mr. B: steak, lobster tails, rosemary potatos, green beans and chardonnay. He also makes amazing chicken cutlets, home fries, lemon-garlic salad dressing/marinade, chicken thighs, etc. In short he's a culinary genius. He's also really good at taking prefab-food and spicing it or preparing it differently to make it taste great.That's a pretty good metiphor for his role in my life right now. He makes the ordinary stuff in life more palatable. :) Okay, I don't think I'm an emoticon person, but it was worth a shot.

More poetry

I just realized that most of my family has never seen one of my poems, and what is the first one I give them? A rather bittersweet one. So, to balance it out, here are a few that are a bit more approachable.

[Note: I had to remove these poems because I found out lit mags won't publish work that's been published on a blog. Oops.]

Poem Response

Last year, I first read an amazing poem by Philip Booth. A man was teaching his daughter to swim, but he was also teaching her how to approach love without fear. I instantly fell in love with the poem. Then, this week I was inspired to write a responding poem. His is so hopeful and comforting. Mine seems sad and disillusioned, but it's not about giving up. It's about one of those moments when life gives you pause. Here's the original and my response:

First Lesson by Philip Booth

Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

[Note: I had to remove my poem because I found out lit mags won't publish work that's been published on a blog. Oops.]

Sugar high.

Madrid and I went candy shopping today. We spent a good fifteen minutes in the candy isle of a local pharmacy, seriously contemplating which candies to choose. Eventually, I chose Hershey's Dark Chocolate Kisses, Hershey's Hugs and a Big Kat (I wanted a regular KitKat, but they were sold out). Madrid went with Reese's Peanutbutter Cups and a pack of funsized FastBreaks, I think. Oh, but that's not the point.

The point is, in the midst of our serious quest for calories, I realized something--

"Know what's great about being a grownup? You can buy candy whenever you want. Remember when you were a kid and you wanted candy but you couldn't have any?"

"Oh, I know! That was aweful," Madrid replied.

"I was such a sugarholic! When there was no candy around, I would do disgusting things."

"Like what?"

"I would find tubs of Cool Whip my mom had frozen and eat it by the spoonfulls. I would gnaw on blocks of almond bark. I ate straight brown sugar." I didn't even tell her about the "marshmallow salads" Aunt Helen let me make. If I remember correctly, they were just mini-marshmallows, chocolate chips and maybe a couple of raisins. I'm lucky I still have most of my teeth.

"I've got one," Madrid replied. She's a Southern girl, and Southerners are known for their love of sweet tea. She put a new spin on it: "I used to suck on tea bags dipped in sugar. Oh, and I made Life cereal and margarine sandwiches. I would spread some margarine on the edge of my bowl, dip two squares of cereal in the margarine and stick them together to make a tiny sandwich. It's disgusting to me now, but at the time it made perfect sense."

"When I was desperate for s'mores, I'd improvise by putting semisweet chocolate chips and mini-marshmallows between two vanilla wafers and pop it in the microwave."

"Actually, that sounds kind of good."

"It kind of is, and if you don't have chocolate chips and vanilla wafers, you can lick the filling from an Oreo and put the marshmallows between the chocolate cookies."

"Wow, you were inventive...and starving, apparently."

"I went through this phase where I would make toast with strawberry jam every night at midnight. My parent would come into the kitchen: (grumbling in parent voice) 'What are you doing? Go to bed!'"

"And you were like, 'Mom and Dad, I'm STARVING! I am a GROWING girl, and I need the calories!"

"Heh. Those were the days."

Yes, back then we had the metabolism to eat all the candy we want. Now that we no longer have the super-high metabolism, we finally have the autonomy and cash to buy all the candy we want.

Hello, dear family!

After months of blogging, I only recently let any of you know this blog exists; before that, only a couple of my friends knew. Mom says Unkie is already complaining that he wants new entries and is tired of reading old ones. Well, just so you all know, I usually only get to make updates every 7 to ten days because my job and grad school keep me so busy. But now that I actually have an audience, I guess I'll have to try harder. Oh, remember, new posts appear at the top of the page. If you want to read the entries from old months in the archives, click a month and start at the bottom of the page. Then work your way up.

Also, I've changed the settings on my blog to make it easier for you guys to leave comments. Just click the "# comments" on the lower-righthand-side of the post. Type any responses or questions (you can even suggest future post topics or post family news) in the text box. Type your name in the Name box (just ignore the Your Web Page box). Copy the letters in the gray box to the Word Verification slot and click "Publish Your Comment." It sounds way more complicated than it is, I promise.

As for news, I don't have much. The kids were really good Friday, but my boss was aweful. That night I went to a great Spanish restaurant, La Paella, with my friend Laura. I've really missed authentic tapas since I left Spain, and this place makes them really well.

Oh, and I bought a hula hoop! Hee. I haven't been getting enough cardiovascular exercise, and I wanted something small and cheap that I could use in a limited space without disturbing my neigbors. Now I hula hoop while watching TV, and done properly it really gets the heart and lungs going. Besides that, it's fun! I love you guys and hope to hear from you soon.

Hey, Jenny and Sam (if you're reading this), how's your blog coming along?

Happy New Year!

Must be time to update the blog! I went back and added photos to the Iowa entries. Now for the new info! Thursday I went to Unkie and Helen's house for a sleepover. We had a big pizza dinner with my parents; Unkie; Helen; my cousin Karen (who is like my sister); her husband, Lynn (a great pseudo-brother-in-law); and their kids, Connor and Hannah (who I adore). Connor liked his miniature rocket set, and Hannah liked her window painting kit. (It's less messy than it sounds.) Connor and I played chess. He beat me, of course, but I got him down to two chess pieces and we were kind of in a stalemate. We were getting bored, so my king committed suicide.

When I think about staying over and Unkie and Helen's house, I automatically think of pretty quilts over electric blankets. I was not let down. Hannah and I bunked together. I woke up with something in my back. What is that? I wondered, An elbow? A knee? No. It was her head! She had twisted around until she was curled up with her head nestled in my spine. Heh. The next morning, Connor made us ham, egg and cheese sandwiches. It was great to hang out with my cousins and Unkie and Helen.

After that, Mom and I went to see the new house. It's a pre-fab house, and they're buying the model that people tour, so it's got all the bells an whistles. It's a little too airy and modern for me (I like cozy, old-fashioned houses) but it's very nice. My favorite thing was the kitchen. I just wish there were walls!

That afternoon, I had supper with Grandpa Russel and Grandma Norie. Then I dropped Mom and Dad of in Woodward and rushed over to Des Moines for drinks with the ladies at Star Bar. I had a chocolate strawberry concoction and a slice of white raspberry cheesecake while opening presents. Jennifer got me a book I've been covetting for a while. Jessica knitted me a cunning hat and scarf set and gave me two DVDs (in a gorgeous box that I adore). Kelly got me a pretty pink sweater which my boyfriend says looks great on me.

Speaking of the boyfriend, he picked me up from the airport. For lunch we went to Jackson Hole dinner for enormous burgers. Then we hung out at my place while I unpacked. We watched some TV, then had Chinese food while flipping back and forth between a movie (Anger Management...meh.) and a football game (also, meh. At least the food was really good.) Then we joined up with Laura, Madrid and Madrid's boyfriend, Chris, for an amazing house party. (This was my second New Year's Eve at that party.) Laura's boyfriend, Ryan, got off work and showed up before midnight. We had a great time.

On Tuesday, I had to go back to work, which was kind of painful. The kids have been acting all crazy, and they make me want to quit my job. Some of the kids are great, but right now the obnoxious ones are drowning them out (especially class 705), and I'm just not scary enough to keep them in line. To be fair, only the deans and one math teacher, Mr. P, are scary enough, so I can't blame myself too much. Oh, well. I never thought it would be easy.

Sorting it out.

Yesterday, Dad convinced me to go out to the farm and go through the wreckage to see if there was anything I wanted to keep. I bundled up, then walked in through the missing front door. Things crunched under my feet. The stairway looked just the same, but the rooms upstairs certainly didn't. We went in J.B.'s room first, where I found a blue glass perfume bottle that belonged to my great grandmother.

Then we went to my room. In one place, the wall was cracked, and my curtains had gotten sucked off the window and through the wall (see photo at left).

My books were strewn everywhere (see photo below). Then I found my greatgrandmother's jewelry box. It's gold and plays "Sunrise, Sunset." I know it's not valuable, but I love it a lot. Inside was my ruby necklace. Then I picked up a few favorite books and some photographs.

In the attic, I found a box of my clothes. I sort of wanted to keep all of them, but in the end I just took my favorite jeans from high school (at some point, I'd already pinned a note on them that read "Please keep."), my brother's football uniform, a 4-H t-shirt and a Woodward-Granger (my high school) t-shirt. Then I salvaged a couple toys: a metal top that still worked, and a green, wooden grasshopper on wheels, with legs that moved up and down as you pushed it on the floor. Then I resigned myself to leave everything else behind to be destroyed with the demolition. It was the possibility that was hard...the possibility that something I loved might still be intact, but hidden. But I made myself let go and walked away. Then Dad and I exited through the entirely-missing wall of their bedroom. I couldn't believe how much smaller it looked. It was like at funerals, when the person in the casket looks so much smaller than they did when they were alive.

My favorite tree survived, but I got a bit crabby when Dad told me they might tear it down, it and my second-favorite tree. I told him I was cold, and he said "Okay," but soon got caught up in showing me where the new house would go and pacing out the footprint.

"Daddy," I eventually interrupted, "I'm really cold!"

"But we're visuallizing!" he exclaimed. "Well, I guess I'm visuallizing you as a popsicle, and I'm not having to work very hard."

We realized I wasn't wearing a hat, so he put one on me, then we transfered my salvaged stuff to the semi-trailer they rented to hold our stuff. After that, I helped him load gates into the truck. (In all fairness, I had volunteered to do so the day before, but I hadn't been shivering and damp then). "Oh, sheesh," Dad said, "I better get you inside before I end up giving you pneumonia from this whole deal." Then we drove over to Unkie and Helen's house.

I believe that I've already mentioned on this site that Unkie and Helen and their daughters were like my second family growing up. Unkie is watching Dad's flock for him, and one of the ewes lambed early. Unkie is pretty generous, but he warned my dad that his sows farrowing and dad's ewes lambing would be too much. I imagine Helen's cancer doesn't make it any easier. So dad and I built a small pen for the ewe and her lamb, and Dad's looking for someone else to take on the ewes who are about to give birth. When we saw it was a Dorset ewe that had just had a lamb, Dad and I both chuckled that we (and Unkie) needn't have worried. Dorsets are wonderful mothers. While I was there, I joked with Unkie, played with his Border Collie puppy, Callie, and arranged with Helen for me to come spend the night on Thursday.

That night, I fell asleep on the couch at 8, Mom and Dad sent me to bed at 9 and I slept until 7 a.m. this morning. Then I chatted with Mom, had breakfast while watching "You've Got Mail," walked the dog and took a three-hour nap. I must really be sick, because I am not a napper (as anyone who ever took care of me as a child can attest!) I wanted to go with my parents and some kids who are friends of the family to see Jolly Holliday Lights in Des Moines this evening, but I had a headache so I decided to rest some more in the hopes of finally kicking this bug. Wish me luck.

White Christmas. (Warning: long one!)

Welcome to my family members, who just learned this site exists!

Some people who know me give me credit for being adventurous. I'm not afraid to uproot and start my life over with new careers, new locations and new friends. The truth is, I'm rather traditional. It was the knowledge that my home base would always be there that let me go off to Spain or New York or wherever. I knew that my home and my family would always be there waiting for me.

This was my first Christmas, my first time home, since my home was destroyed. That concept of home "always waiting for me" was easily disspelled. But my family has been here for me like always before, and hopefully forever after.

Saturday, my flights were delayed and delayed and delayed. I was sick and stressed out and started crying when I called to tell my parents when to come to the airport. A stranger who passed me to board his flight said, "Merry Christmas, dear. I hope it gets better." I thanked him and laughed at how pitiful I'd apparently become. I didn't get to Iowa until after midnight, I think.

We went home and opened one present each. My one present was an iPod Shuffle (YAY!). The next morning we went to church. Everyone was so nice and supportive. Mom and Dad asked if I wanted to go the the farm. I said no, because I was not in the mood to cry, but we ended up going anyway because they'd promised J.B. a load of firewood. As they tossed walnut logs from a destroyed tree into the bed of Dad's pretty new truck, I circled the shell of what was our house. It wasn't just the structural damage that made it a shell. It was that the house was empty and cold. Without us living there, it had shrunken somehow.

Tears streamed down my face, but I wiped them away and stopped sobbing before I met up with my parents. As we drove away, past the razed hillside that used to be an orchard, my dad said, "See? That wasn't so traumatic, was it?" But my face fell. "Oh," he chuckled sadly, "maybe I spoke too soon." I couldn't stop the tears then, but they didn't last too long.

We sang along to carols as we drove to see my brother, J.B.; sister-in-law, Erika and my niece, Brooke. When we got there we all hugged. Brooke was shy for the first five minutes, but instead of trying to hold her, I got down on the floor and played with her. Thus, we were fast friends. We had a soup supper (a Christmas tradition in our family). We opened our presents. I loved mine, Mom and Dad seemed to love theirs. J.B. loved his Dukes of Hazzard boxed sets, Erika loved her stamps (she's very crafty) and Brooke seemed to dig the books I got her. She loves to read, and I loved reading to her. Erika estimated that I read Brooke 253 books. The next day, I changed her clothes and read her "The Polar Express," which lulled her into a morning nap. Cuddling her was so wonderful. She's so smart, right at the age when she's constantly picking up the language used around her. Mom sang her a lullaby, and she tried to sing it back to Mom, which was the cutest thing I'd ever seen until we were driving away and I saw her in the window saying "Bye-bye! Bye-bye!" until we pulled out of sight.

Then we went to Uncle Jay and Aunt Dea's house for another soup supper. (Good thing I love chili!) I got to see my first cousin-once-removed (I think) for the first time. Logan is just as cute as can be, and it was hard for me not to hold him, but I restrained myself due to this nasty cold. Megan (my cousin and Logan's mom) was quoting "Anchorman" and holding the DVD. "Oh," I said, "I got that for my boyfriend for Christmas." This resulted in an instant uproar by my cousins (Jenny and her husband, Sam; Megan and her husband, Josh). "Woah, woah, woah, guys! Calm down. I did not mean to make a big announcement." "Well," Jenny replied, you just did." Then Mom piped up that you could see his picture on my blog. Soon it was being booted up. The cousins informed me that they'd been through it, and now it was my turn. "No, I'm fine," I replied. They laughed and informed me that they'd be watching for big announcements. Then Sam started his own blog.

Now admittedly, I've not had a real boyfriend since the '90s, and I rarely mentioned the guys I casually dated. As such, I can't blame them for getting all worked up. The truth is, my life is up in the air right now. I don't know how it will turn out, professionally, geographically or romantically. I try to just take everyone's interest as a show of love.

Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like a transit strike!

Yes, it's heartwarming...the sight of seven million New Yorkers bustling frantically around the city, not buying presents or looking at window displays but just trying to get to work and back home again. I've been bumming rides to and from work, and it hasn't been too bad. Luckily, I had most of my Christmas shopping done.

I've been rushing around like mad to get done all of the things I need to get done this week: the shopping, wrapping, packing, cooking, cleaning, laundry, lesson planning, etc., etc. On top of that, to save a little cash, I decided to make jewelry for some people's presents (see above). Yeah, I'm insane. I had also hoped to take a picture of myself in front of the Rockefeller Center tree (to frame for the grandparents' presents), but it's more than forty blocks from here and it's too cold to walk that far.

This Christmas is going to be weird. I'm big on tradition, and this year the house is gone. The old ornaments are gone. I won't even get to Woodward in time for the Christmas Eve church service. On the other hand, I'm really looking forward to seeing my family, friends and pets. I think that will be strong enough to hold me together.

Sing praises unto the Lord!

I have been swamped lately, but I rearranged my schedule. As such, I made it to Park Avenue United Methodist Church (above) for the first time in a month and sang with the choir. The choir members teased me about my absence. We sang Vivaldi and Christmas carols, which I adore. It sounded and felt amazing.

One song, "Jesus Child" was challenging and had these strange, fun Callypso-ish sections. I got the other singers giggling with my suggestion of shimmying and the use of jazz hands, but in the end they turned me down.

On the more traditional songs, we were accompanied by two professional trumpeters. The odor of poinsettias was heady and thick, going straight to my head as I dove into the music.

Joy to the world.

The last ten days...

Quite a bit has happened since I wrote last.

I remember nothing about December 5...perhaps something traumatic occurred and now I'm blocking it out. December 6 my counselor wasn't available for our normal session, so I went to a great store called Beads on Fifth. I've been making jewelry for Christmas presents, and I needed supplies. Since then, I've made six pairs of earrings and two necklaces.

I've noted that when I first met Mr. B, I was struck by the urge to bake. A while back, I bought a bunch of apples, but hadn't had time to actually make the pie (from scratch!) until Wednesday. It was a dutch carmel apple pie with a lattice crust (see photo above). I think I over-worked the shortening in the bottom crust, but the top crust was perfect and flaky. The filling was breathtaking, if I do say so myself.

Thursday...yeah, I blocked that out, too.

Friday I went out with my ladies. It was fun, but I had to go home earlier than usual because I was exhausted. The insomnia...she is back.

Saturday, I went to Mr. B's for dinner (his family is out of town). He made me chicken cutlets with garlic pasta and we had my pie and icecream for dessert. He's a great cook.

Sunday I did laundry and turned a few black bananas into a loaf of yummy banana bread. I also planned my lessons. I also chatted with my parents. Mom said Hooligan has made to move to the apartment in town. She also told me Aunt Helen, with whom I'm very close, has lung cancer. Lung cancer! She's never smoked. Unkie never smoked. It's so unfair. But the doctors seem to agree. They said she's so healthy that she'll probably be okay.

Monday I had a tough day at work. Well, it started out all right. I had to video tape a grammar lesson for my Fordham final. I taught it to 702 and they were great. My 803 class was good, too. Then the tide turned: Kids in class 705 were swinging belts and I couldn't get anyone to come help me. Between that and having a cold, I almost cried. I then had a long staff meeting in which my administrators were trying to manipulate the staff. Usually our staff gets along well, but that day we were all CRABBY. On the plus side, that day I bought this miracle elixir called Zicam. As I see it, there are three possibilities: 1-Zicam is a wonder drug that has done wonders with my cold symptoms. 2-It's the placebo effect. 3-The cold is just running its course. I say who cares, as long as my nose no longer feels like it's full of jello, I can pronounce the letter d, and I don't sound like I've been gargling gravel.

Tuesday I finished the paper to go along with my grammar lesson video, which was due that night. My Fordham field advisor watched me teach and he thought I did a great job. 803 was okay, but 705 went nuts again. After school was Fordham, after Fordham was counselling (Quick summary: 'Props on getting the paper done on time! Don't try so hard to impress other people. Don't be afraid to go for your dream and write. Good luck with the holidays!' Thanks, Angela!) I went home and made earrings (that was pair 6), then went to bed. I didn't get to sleep until almost midnight, though. Yes the insomnia continues. I must get more that six hours sleep soon or I will snap.

Today the kids were decent. It was photo day, and no one warned the teachers, so we were crabby at our administration...again...some more. Then, because it was so cold, Mr. B. gave me a ride to the train. On the way to his car, we ran into some of my students on the street. They went nuts, screamming that they had caught us. They were giddy, surrounding us like the paparazzi. Seeing us walking together was, to them, a sure confirmation of their suspicions. This shall feed their need for drama for quite some time.

Tomorrow, I'm going to see one of my students play basketball and another dance during the halftime show. It's the first time students have invited me to one of their activities, and I'm proud that they want me there.

Overheard in New York

I am addicted to the web site Overheard in New York, and since Val told me about it I have longed to overhear something funny. Living in NYC, it had to happen sooner or later, right?

Well, recently I did. It went something like this:

Fordham boy: ...and then the salesgirl said, "We don't have any. They're out of season." Out of season? They're bathrobes. Have I missed something? Is there a season for bathing?

Hee!

Thanks were given.

Last year I had a nice Thanksgiving. I loved seeing the Macy's parade (see the bad photo at left). I loved how friendly all the New Yorkers were. I then went back to my apartment where I prepared a microwave turkey dinner which I ate while talking on the phone to my family back in Iowa and watching A Christmas Story on TV. It was a nice day, but whenever I mention it to people, they moan a pitying moan and look at me like I just "came down with cancer of the puppy." (That's a Buffy the Vampire Slayer quote.)

Anyway, this year was quite different because I went home with Mr. B. in Eastchester. Their house is beautiful and fancy but lacks a bit in coziness. When we arrived, I introduced myself to his mom and sister. They both gave me really weird looks. Then I excused myself to the bathroom and heard them laughing. You see, whenever Mr. B talked to them about me, he called me Kiley. When I introduced myself as Erin, they thought I was some girl other than the one he had planned to bring to dinner. But we got that cleared up...hence the laughter.

I played with the children, charmed the babies, bantered with the gentlemen of the family and helped the ladies in the kitchen. After dinner, they all teased Mr. B. saying that I fit right in...perhaps better than him, and that they weren't sure about Mr. B, but I'm welcome at family events anytime.

Yay!

Mom and dad found Hooligan! (They also found a sweet barn cat, Gray Kitty.)This is a photo I took of Hooligan this summer. He lives up to his name. I figured he would survive, especially considering how we got him in the first place.

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I was driving to work one day when I noticed some kittens running around: two orange ones and a black one. They darted into the ditch and I couldn't find them. About a week later, I saw one of the orange kitties as I came home late from work. It was tiny and weak. I scooped it up and took it to the house. Mom and I fed it tuna and petted it. It perked up a little. I put it in a cat carrier and put the carrier on my bed. I fell asleep to the sound of it purring.

The next day, when I returned home from work and peeked into the carrier, all I could see was a swirl of fur whipping around. "Wow, Dad! What did you do to her?" Dad gave a sad-yet-amused chuckle. "Oh, honey. That's not the same kitten. That kitten died. I found this one this afternood." It seems that the fiesty kitten, just a few weeks old, had been fending for himself and doing a good job. He must have gone hungry a bit, though, because forever after that he has devoured every bit of food set in front of him and still ate everything he hunted. You could feed him a huge meal and he would still mew pitifully as though he's starving.

His tenacity and sense of adventure gave us a challenge when naming him. Eventually, he sort of named himself. He kept doing naughty things. One day, he annoyed my father, who exclaimed, "You hooligan!" and it stuck.

The storm shook him up quite a bit, and he's reverted a bit to his old wild ways...which were barely suppressed at the best of times. He's used to being able to leave the house whenever he wants, and my parents are afraid he'd dart out of the apartment and get lost if they moved him to town. They're trying to figure out what to do for him. I'm just happy he's alive. And he let Dad hold him, so he hasn't gone completely feral...yet.

P.S. Tomorrow I'm going to Mr. B's for Thanksgiving with his mom and stepdad. It will be my first Thanksgiving with a family that's not mine. Wish me luck!

Mr. B and how it will be

Today I went to church (Park Avenue United Methodist) and sang with the choir. It sounded amazing. Oh, good news! One of my professors has agreed to let me make up the work I owe him over the next few months. Then I'd be able to graduate in August. Now I just need to finish the assignments and get my Masters Fine Arts applications done and turned in! I'm stressed out and racing to get done all the myriad things I need to get done on the short and long terms. Wednesday, I plan to go to pub night with Madrid, and Thursday I'm going to spend Thanksgiving with Mr. B. and his family.

I have received requests for more details on the date with Mr. B. and Mr. B. in general. Okay...as previously stated, he arrived at my place at seven and rubbed my back supportively as I talked to my parents. Accepting comforting platitudes isn't my strong suit, so it worked well for me that he took a more tactile approach.

After I found out my parents were okay, we left to get supper.We drove over to Mill Korean at 113 and Broadway and had a fabulous (and affordable!) meal of Bulgogi Hot Stone Pot. Rice, veggies, beef and a raw egg arrive at your table in a sizzling hot bowl. You stir it up, and the bowl cooks the food. It is so delicious. After that we went to a bar called The Heights where we ran into a fellow Teaching Fellow named Deema.

Later we went back to my place and tried to watch a movie, but ended up falling asleep. In the morning we skipped church and we made omelettes, then went for a walk to Central Park. That's when I took the picture above. (He's a little bit cuter in real life, though. He's one of those people who can't smile normally if there's a camera present.) We explored the Conservatory Gardens, then climbed up a rocky slope where we sat and talked and looked down at the city. We talked about things we did when we were younger (which for me included tap dancing), and he asked me to tap dance for him. I did the best I could in tennis shoes, and laughed that it reminded me of a scene in Garden State. He'd never seen it, so we went back to my apartment to watch it.

After that, we went to the Itzocan Bistro, which serves French-Mexican fusion quisine, including a breathtaking 3 chile eggs Benedict. My mouth waters just thinking about it. While we ate, we talked and talked to the sounds of Buenos Hermanos Cubanos. He told me he's told his Italian Catholic Grandmother, Nanny, about me. "What did you say?" I asked. "I said, 'There's this girl I like. Her name's Erin.' She said, 'That sounds Irish. What's her last name?' 'Kiley.' 'Oh, that's definitely Irish.' Which she thought was a good thing." Ha, I thought, it probably gave her false hope that I was Catholic. After brunch, he drove home to Westchester. The date lasted 20 hours, and really helped me get through finding out about the tornado.

Clean Sweep

If you look closely at the picture at left (by Doug Wells of the Des Moines Register), you will see my mother smiling as she passes a tiny blue Barbie trunk to someone on a ladder. One might assume that the only reason she is smiling as she sorts through the rubble is because she knows someone is taking her picture. Well, one might be wrong!

My mom has wanted a new house since 1992, a desire I fought tooth and nail. I like the boulder walls of the basement and the creaky stairs and the cobwebby attic. Mom and Dad did a nice job fixing it up, but was a shabby little house with the world's ugliest carpet, and I loved it dearly.

My mother moved into that house as a young girl and lived there until she graduated from high school in 1969. Then when my brother was two (1979), Grandma and Grandpa Staker moved to Arizona, so my parents took over the farm. That's more than 32 years in one house...more than three decades with that terrible carpet.

Mom finds it easy to part with material goods. Dad and I, however, are pack rats. Mom loves the TV show Clean Sweep, where a team makes you empty rooms of your house and sort the contents, keeping at most a third of it. Mom joked about calling them to combat me, Dad, and the myriad ancestors who have tucked their belongings into our house's nooks and crannies.

"Well, Mom, you don't have to call the Clean Sweep team anymore," I exclaimed on the phone yesterday.

She laughed. "Oh, I know. Your father was tryin to haul boxes of magazines from the attic. I said, 'Oh, no. That is ridiculous. Over my dead body."

The storm has given my mother a guilt-free opportunity to start over without the trappings of her past. The insurance money has already come through, and they're meeting with companies to plan for the new house.

Goodbye, farm.

Last night, Mr. B and I had a date that was amazing...but the amazingness was overshadowed quite a bit by what preceded the date. My phone was ringing off the hook while I was in the tub getting ready. Eventually, the ringing was so insistant that I ran, dripping, for the phone. My childhood best friends, Harmony and Gwen, were on the phone warning me that a tornado had destroyed half of my home town of Woodward. My parents didn't answer the phone, so I rinsed and dried off.I tried to call my parents, but couldn't reach them. I called my brother. He told me that the barn and sheds were gone.

The house was still there, but the roof was gone and the house was probably irreparable. The house (in the pre-storm photo above) was more than 100 years old and had been in our family all that time. My childhood bedroom was my mother's childhood bedroom.With shaking hands I got dressed and applied my makeup and nail polish. Painting your toenails while in shock is a difficult and ridiculous task. Mr. B. arrived and rubbed my back while I called my parents on their cell phone. Friends and family were already helping them gather the flock and salvage what they could from the wreckage.

Today I found out that the family dogs survived. My ancient cat, Tut, survived, too, but Hooligan and some of the barn cats are MIA.Good Morning America started off at the farm this morning. Dad's quoted in an AP story and will be interviewed via telephone on CNN at 10, 9 Central tonight. They should be on GMA again tomorrow, too.It's all so surreal. The house had been in our family for more than 100 years, so it was easy to take for granted that it would always be there. I lost belongings. I may have lost pets. My parents have to start over. And my home is gone.

Updates

Several things are new with me. I shall share them now in handy list form:

1- I chose a Halloween costume and finished making it last night. As suggested by my brilliant friend Kelly, I shall be an evil girl scout from Troop 666. I just sewed the last demerit badge on my sash last night. I'll post picture of the outfit after Halloween.

2- To complete my outfit, I purchased the world's tiniest and most adorable chain-stitch sewing machine. I had been missing my big sewing machine, which I left in Iowa. I didn't think I'd use it often enough to justify the shipping costs or the space it would take up in my tiny Spanish Harlem apartment, however. This little beauty is good for crafty stuff, hems and other small jobs. I wouldn't use it to actually construct a garment. There's no speed or stitch-length control. But isn't it cute?

3-Hee. I can't believe I'm listing this below a tiny sewing machine: I am now dating Mr. B. Last night he drove me home and asked me out for Friday. Tonight he drove me to the train (a student saw us. There were already rumors, but now they'll be rampant). Both times, he stayed at school later than usual, which is kind of sweet. I had called Rosa to tell her about Mr. B, but she wasn't home. When I got a hold of her she laughed. "You know what I love about this new phase in our relationship? When I get a phone message saying you have news and you don't answer your phone, I can just find out on your blog!" She asked me if I liked Mr. B. "I think so," I replied, "Sunday I had the urge to bake for him." "Oh, no!" she exclaimed, laughing again.

4-Now it looks like I probably won't graduate at the end of the summer. I may have to come back and take a class in the fall and pay a couple thousand bucks to do so. If so, the choice would be Goodbye, Iowa Writer's Workshop or Goodbye Fordham Diploma. Of course, that's definately counting my Writer's Workshop chickens before they hatch, but the idea of a third year teaching middle school in the Bronx is rather depressing. Although I would be released from the Fellows Program at the end of the summer, so I guess I could apply to teach wherever I want. Oh, Bloggie, you've cheered me so! Erm...perhaps I should wrap this up, as I think its a bad sign when you give your blog a nickname and begin talking to it.

5- Maybe I should discuss it in an hour when I go to therapy. Yes, Item 5 on my fun list is that I've started therapy. It's funny. Because of the yoga I do for 35 minutes 3-5 times a week, I'm in the best shape I've been in in years. I have great friends. I'm dating. I'm doing a little better at work. I'm sorting out the tangled mess that is my master's degree. All in all, I feel pretty good... but my insomnia, which plagued me when I was 20, is returning. Last night I got 3 hours of sleep. 4 hours a night was about my average last week. Thursday night I didn't sleep at all. Also, my back tightened up worse than it had in a year and a half. Only a visit to a masseuse (who practices the delicious torture that is accupressure) got it in check. So I thought I'd get some counsellling before my physical feelings became emotional feelings of depression.And on that cheery note, I've got to go to my appointment. Much love to my dear readers, Vali and Rose...the only people who know this is here. Anyone else who wanders by, welcome!

Surprise! It's a date.

A cute coworker and I have been flirting for a while, but I never thought anything would come of it. My friend Madrid said she didn't think his flirting was personal, that Mr. B. is just a flirty type. Just in case it was personal, she added the demure advice, "Don't shit where you eat." While her way of saying it was repulsive, I agree with the sentiment. So imagine my surprise Friday when I found out I was on a surprise date.

It's Mr. B's first year as a teacher, and I remember how hard that was. It was only going out Friday night with Madrid, Laura and Carolina that kept me sane. He's also living with his parents right now, as he recently graduated. I had to do that right after I graduated, too, and it's very stressful. So I invited him to join our Friday night dinner and gabbing session at the Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden in Astoria. He agreed. Then, at the last moment, Madrid dropped out of the night's festivities and everyone else decided on a change of venue. So Mr. B and I ended up having dinner their on our own. We had some kielbasa and good conversation . Then the bill came and I reached for my wallet. He said no, that he would pay. I said he didn't have to. He replied something like "I know, but I'm old-fashioned. When go out with someone, I like to pay. Besides, it was fun date...good conversation." After he said that I was like, "Oh, I'm on a date!" Who knew? Until then, not me.

We then hopped in his car and drove to Tropix to meet up with Carolina, Laura and her coworkers. I got to use an ipod for the first time, and played Al Green for the duration of the drive. Then we hung out and danced. I boogied with my girls, tried to teach Laura swing dance (unsuccefully) and tried to teach Mr. B to dance (also unsuccessfully, but still fun). A definite plus for Mr. B: He's not a good dancer, but he dances anyway without being self-conscious about it.

At one a.m. I had to go home because I had a required workshop at 8:30 the next morning. Mr. B insisted on driving me home. We put on more soul music and he drove me back (Don't worry; he was sober.). When we got to my place, he gave me a simple kiss. It was sweet, but I was a little worried at the time because he didn't try for more. Then I realized, "Maybe he's a gentleman!" It'd been so long since I ran into one of those.We'll see what comes of it. Whether we go out again or not, I had a great night, and that's what matters.

Creative Friends!

I'm pretty busy these days with teaching, planning lessons, grading papers, going to graduate school and doing my homework, but when I get a spare moment, I write poems and stories. (Bizarrely enough, you can even buy newspaper articles I wrote for the Business Record at Amazon.com!) Well, the cool thing is, many of my friends and acquaintances are creative, too! Here are some of their recent accomplishments that you should check out:

Valerie Lee Joplin, one of my very, very best friends, has a lovely blog, Sleeping Late in Seattle and two bands. Despite the fact that she is my best friend, I don't know the names of her bands. Perhaps if she visits this site (as she claims she does) she will leave a comment telling me the band names.

You can see the work of Anthony Lee Richardson and his wife Valerie Lee Joplin at Tony's web site, ALR Studio.

My former Suitemate Rachael Bossow recently joined the Leavenworth Times as a reporter/photographer. She's an amazing writer, so you should check out that fine publication.

Blake Wilner, a hip Aussie jazz musician I met in NYC in 1999, is living and performing in London. He creates great contemporary jazz with an old-school feel. His latest album, The Reprieve, has been getting positive reviews from Jazz web sites and publications, and he'll be in New York from Nov. 28 to Jan. 4. If you get a chance, go see him perform or buy his music, which is available on his web site or at CD Baby. The folks at CD Baby provide hilarious customer service! Place an order with them and you'll see what I mean.

Stacy Carolan was my college-boyfriend's roomie. We were the best of friends. We were the worst of friends. We acted and sang and climbed trees together. We fought. We made up. Now he and his a cappella group, FourShadow, make brilliant music. They've even been featured on the Today show. Their new album, Four, has been getting good press. From now until Oct. 31, a portion of any of their CDs you buy online will go towards hurricane relief. So go and buy some top-quality a cappella!

Drew Melbourne is...no, was a fellow Teaching Fellow. He is hilarious. His web site includes strange videos and pictures, as well as his whip-smart writing. It's mostly about his comic book, ArchEnemies, which hits the stands April 5th. (ArchEnemies is the story of a superhero and his nemesis who don't realize they are roomates.) You can also read about how and why he left the Teaching Fellows in his Scriptic Studios column, "You can also Quit Your Day Job."

Micah Chaplin and I sort of ran in the same circles at Buena Vista University, and she has written two romance novels called “You’ll Never Know” and “A Promise Worth Breaking.” Give them a try next time you need a good lovey-dovey book.

Support the friends of the Girl Out of the Country! P.S. If you are a friend of mine and happen to find your way to this site and have an artistic endeavor I don't know about, let me know and I'll post the information.