Girl Ferret

Another Year...

2011-05-17T20:53:00.002-06:00

To steal an imaginary word from one of my students, I believe I am a very "changeful" person. I look at the post from a year ago and...well hell...so much has changed! I feel a little crazier each year, and I think that's the way I like it to be. I do more fun stuff, I have money to do more fun stuff, I have confidence to do fun stuff without caring too much what other people think...

So fun stuff, let's see. In the past year that I've abandoned this blog (which seems to be a reoccurring theme) I have changed school districts, started Kung Fu and Tai Chi, delved full force into my love of costumes (for ANY occasion, or none at all!), found new ways to introduce fake mustaches to friends and strangers, learned to poi dance, made and strengthened so many friendships, and found happiness in HULA HOOPING!!! Which might sound like a strung together list of silly hobbies, but really each one has changed my life this year in surprisingly drastic ways.

The job was such a crazy big thing, to go into it here would be tedious for any reader but me. I mention it mainly because, well, I am probably my only reader. And it is kind of nice to look back and see that personal timeline. So maybe Inigo had it right after all? But let me just say, I haven't cried this year. I feel valued. And most importantly, I don't feel at all held back from making a difference for kids.

I want to go back to writing silly posts, but felt that I had to sum up, just a little. So I'll keep it short and simply say in closing: this girl, at age 30, is happy. More happy than ever-- which is pretty incredibly happy.

Land of the Lost

2010-04-21T19:47:00.003-06:00

So, if this blog exists for my lifetime and I live for 70 more years...I could potentially have over NINETY posts!!!

Really, it's unacceptable that I go so long between stories. I love to write, ridiculous things happen to me, and I have an enormous imaginary audience. (Do you remember when sitcoms used to start with "this episode was filmed before a live studio audience"?)

I've been on two family vacations (Minnesota and Arizona) since my last post, and while I don't feel the need to go into intricate detail... let's just say lots of boxed wine and fake mustaches were involved. Summer is around the corner, and I will surely have some gems to share soon.

As for today, this is a post about nothing. After all, Seinfeld has always been my favorite sitcom (even if it did have a laugh track).

First Day of School

2009-08-23T18:37:00.004-06:00

When I was a kid, thinking about the upcoming school year was like a reverse Christmas countdown. Days of summer slipped by with a speed that was alarmingly disproportionate to the slow ride of mid-February. Although I liked school, I was always apprehensive in the fall as thoughts of cliques, homework, and cafeteria food flooded my mind.

I clearly remember the night before my first day of junior high school, spent frantically trying to drift off to sleep. I knew that 6am came early, and although my mom's advice to 'sleep fast' sounded like a good theory, it would not erase next-day circles under my pre-adolescent eyes.

I effectively freaked myself out enough to stay up, wide-eyed and terrified, until precisely 3:17am when I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

I don't remember much about the following day, but I certainly remember that night. Which brings me to wonder how many freshman inside the Theodore Roosevelt High School boundary lines will have fitful dreams tonight. All week I thought how lucky they were to be sleeping until luxurious times and watching daytime TV while all us teachers sat through exhilarating hours of professional development. But now...I'm not so sure.

I also wonder about the shiny new teacher faces at TR, remembering the looks of sheer terror on Friday as they realized they only had 48 hours until D-day.

I am so frikkin' glad I'll never again be a 7th grade kid...or a first-year teacher.

The Midnight Sun

2009-08-13T22:44:00.007-06:00

Although it has been a couple of months, I feel the need to sum up my summer in a more satisfying way than the traditional Inigo list. That being decided, I will now begin chronicling my summer as if it has just happened (may the space-time continuum be forever bent to my will!)

My trip to Alaska was long overdue and, may I say, well earned. It had been FIVE years since I had been home, and I had no idea how much I missed it! I can't say I had forgotten the magnificence of the mountains, sunsets, rivers and lakes...but on this trip I do think I realized how much I had previously taken it for granted. I felt absolutely at home in that place, and absolutely in awe.

I saw my 'welcome home moose' jump in front of the car- over the bridge on the Glenn highway on my way home from the airport. It reminded me of my dad, who always kept a butcher's knife and some extra-tuff garbage bags in the trunk for just such an occasion. Luckily the moose lived that night, but I can't say I would have been disappointed had we found the need to stuff him in the back of Deb's new SUV.

I arrived at Auntie Debbie's new house and was again shocked at the raw beauty of the place. Growing up I saw my auntie and cousins move from place to place. From my sketchy little kid memory I recall them living in "The Shack" at the bottom of our driveway, their house (unfinished, like ours) in Hatcher Pass, the assortment of housesitting locales after the divorce, and the myriad of apartments after that. Then there was the tiny A-frame on Rainbow Road that I called home myself, and the huge boxy house on Muffin. Debbie certainly knew how to make real estate work to her advantage; her new place is a custom built home with a Jacuzzi tub and a million dollar view of the mountains and valley below.

It was incredibly good to be home. Mom stayed with me at Deb's, knowing that the family needed to be together. We stayed up way too late watching vampire movies and drinking wine. We grilled caribou and garlic bread and languished in the company of family. Kindra entertained me with her adult sense of humor and crazy thirst for adventure. Together we went on the road, searching for the next campfire story and the best stolen boulders. National parks didn't see us coming.

The four of us went on a once yearly hike through the mountain to Whittier. We donned hard hats (with phallic references) and good shoes and set off on the two mile hike through the rock. It was an incredible feeling to be so far beneath stone and dirt, with no short way out and certainly no cell phone service. We met a friendly fireman halfway through who gave us water and posed for a sweet pic with 'the moms'.

I went with Deb to her class and had fun playing with and teaching the pre-k kids. It made me wonder if I would teach high school forever- I found so much inspiration in my auntie's classroom! Kindra and I volunteered to lead horses for kids with special needs. The horses were great, the kids were ridiculously fun, and the ride to ourselves afterward was fantastic!

Mom and Debbie proved to be the rock stars that they are, and we went on many spur-of-the-moment adventures to various bars, festivals, and shopping ventures. Debbie invited us to meet her hairdresser, who had a shop on a small pristine lake in Wasilla. We enjoyed the Saturday Market in Anchorage and the Friday Fling in Palmer. Mom showed Anchorage the happiness of being inside the fish bowl as she made us all make 'fish faces' at passers by while we sipped ale at McGinley's Pub.

I was thrilled to visit my friends in Anchorage, though circumstances made it difficult to share stories and play dates. I played countless games with Niki and Jason's girls, and they made me smile every second. I was met in Amber and Joe's doorway by Tucker's hastily rehearsed, "Hi Kirsten!" which almost brought tears to my eyes. It made me think of my mom's friend Cher, who I grew up knowing was Mom's best friend without ever really knowing her face.

Mom, Deb, Kindra and I spent the last night all smashed into a bed together, watching old home movies and laughing over old memories. I left feeling full and happy, with plans to visit again as soon as the school year permits. It will never again be five years between Alaska adventures!!

Life Story Boring Warning!

2009-07-08T18:13:00.008-06:00

After my recent trip to Alaska, I spent hours on the couch reading old diaries I had dug out of Mom's garage. It made me nostalgic and a bit teary at times, and I realized how many great people had drifted in an out of my life. As the next logical course of action, I hopped onto Facebook and found many of my once-best-friends, including, ahem, ex-boyfriends. I find myself repeating my story over and over again, and while I certainly don't mind I thought it might be nice to have it all in one place. I stopped journaling in my late teens, and so many things have slipped by. Even in these past years- I don't have much here at all about the mundane details of my life! (lucky you?) So this is mostly for myself, but also for you...if you're interested...

In a place long ago in a time far away...

I graduated from Houston Jr. Sr. High School. Always the independent and stubborn girl, I shacked up with my high school sweetheart within days of my 18th birthday. Our apartment was tiny, dingy, the ceiling leaked, the Toyo stove clogged and shut down every day, and the whole place smelled like fuel oil. We loved it. I worked a LOT, attended Mat-Su college, and earned my Associate of Arts degree. I bought a little green car with no AC that had a hatchback and that new car smell. Chris and I were happy, then not so happy, then apart. He was one of the most important people in my life, and I cherish the memories we made together.

I started seeing boy number two, and when I decided to go on to art school in Minnesota he decided that was a pretty good place for him to be too. We drove the Al-Can highway in that little green car, with Dad, George and Taz in the big blue Volvo. Dad finally let me drink with him since the legal age for consumption in that great northern country is 18. I had lots of cheap nasty wine because the bottles were pretty, and because of that I was not able to ride the roller coaster in the Edmonton Mall. Dad stayed at the farm he and Mom had bought, and I enrolled in the College of Visual Arts.

CVA was an indescribably good place to be. I spent my time painting, drawing, and discovering the amazing world of printmaking and book art. Did I mention the beer and free popcorn at Fabulous Fern's? I was surrounded by like-minded people, and I had finally found a place where I felt right. I became an ink slinging feminist who performed slam poetry and went skinny dipping. I dyed my hair red and pierced my nose. I was an art school kid in a city that digs that sort of thing, and I had a family who supported anything I was passionate about.

Time went by, graduation approached, and I felt Paul and I drifting apart. While he went home to Alaska in the summers I spent time with Dad at the farm and Geo at the lake. Paul and I always treated each other well, but were not quite the right fit. We ended things on relatively good terms and lived together as roommates and friends.

With a year left before graduation I met a boy on Yahoo Chat. My family laughed nervously and called him M.R. It did not stand for Mister or Magical Rabbit. The name they (actually, Grandma...) bequeathed on this friend I had a small crush on was...Mad Rapist. We talked online, then talked on the phone, then he offered to buy me a plane ticket to visit him in San Antonio. To which I promptly replied, "uh...no!? What if you're a crazy Internet stalker?" So my stalker bought a car and drove up to visit me instead. I can't explain what happened that week, but we both knew that was it. We had found ourselves in each other and began a torturous long-distance relationship.

After six months it became too much for us and Jason left everything he knew in San Antonio to be with me in the frozen north. He struggled to find work and a place in life, but as much as I felt at home in the Twin Cities I knew he did not. I graduated and both my parents came to hear my senior thesis presentation, Girl Slam: Feminism in Spoken Word Performance. It was a success, I had my Bachelor of Fine Arts, and I began making contacts in hopes of a job. Jason and I drove down to San Antonio to visit his friends and get the rest of his belongings.

I saw just how much he missed it. I decided it was time for my next adventure, and we drove back with an empty car to gather my things instead. On the way back down I realized my folly in buying a car without air conditioning. We lived on Craig and Gene's apartment floor on an air mattress for two months. Jason started TechAde with two clients and a Tupperware computer desk, and I got a job at Asel Art Supply. We were flat broke and happy. When the lease was up the four of us moved to a much bigger place with three bedrooms, a garage, and a purple monkey dishwasher. I became friends with Jason's group, and I realized exactly why he had missed them so much.

Time went by, we got a few more clients, and I got a promotion at work. I was only the second manager in about 30 years, and although it was a silly retail job it was hard. I began to feel like I had ordered the same tube of paint a thousand times without making any difference in the world. Jason surprised me one day with a membership to a dojo, and we began our Kenseido training together. The physical activity and excuse to spend time together made me feel better, and we happily progressed in our ninja skills. The dojo grew, as did my friendship with the family who owned it. When they opened an after school program, they asked me to leave my job at the art store and work for them.

Throughout the years Dad had various surgeries and treatments to try to stop the tumor in his brain. He was a fierce survivor who never asked for sympathy. He lost his fight with cancer on April 11, 2005, and it was the most devastating thing I have had to live through. The love of my family and Jason's support helped me get through, and over the years I have managed to heal.

Shortly after this great loss was our beautiful wedding day. We were married in Maui, where Jason is from. There were blue skies over our heads and grass under our feet, and a perfect ceremony officiated by Auntie Kathy. My family was there, and my very best friends. We had bought a house together just three months prior to the big day, so we came home to what has been named by our friends, "The Republic of Ferretakistan" (see first post for explanation!)

I loved my job at the dojo, though things ended badly because of monetary and other reasons. I had to move on, so with Jason's love and support I enrolled in school once again at Our Lady of the Lake University. After my first year of school I began teaching Redirection at Theodore Roosevelt High School. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and I finally knew I was doing some good in people's lives. I work with children who struggle with emotional disturbance and behavior disorders. Some have conditions such as Schizophrenia and Bi-Polar disorder, some get in trouble for drugs, gang affiliation, and/or other illegal activity, and all of them need a lot of love. Last December I graduated with a Master's in Special Education, and I have half-formed plans to go on to doctoral study.

I have also taught painting classes at night to fill the art void in my life. I worked for a while doing murals and commissions, and I still take small projects as time allows. Our computer business has grown to over 40 clients, and we are working toward expansion to include employees and a central office. Jason is an exceptionally hard worker, and I am very proud of him.

We have found ourselves falling helplessly in love with so many animals along the way- some are rescues from the street, some from the shelter, and some from the pet store. To date we are the proud parents of three dogs, three ferrets, three bearded dragons, one snake, two indoor aquariums, and one extremely large koi pond. All of our fish have names. We plan to have a baby soon.

I would like to take a moment to honor those who have gone on from this world, who I am lucky to have known. My dad, Truls Dominic Bjore, my grandma Nancy Cullen, my grandpa George Bjore, my great-grandparents Marcella and George Hamilton, my great aunt and uncle Mildred and Jimmy Bjore and their son Marlen, and my elementary and high school friend Amanda McElwee.

I am so excited to have the new little bundles of joy who have brightened this dull old place up, my little niecie/cousin Jillian Shale (thanks to Sarah and her cute hubby Josh!), Courtney's beautiful Natalie, Annie Banannie's Joey (and one on the way!), Jessica and Brett's Amy, Emma, and Alice, Niki and Jason's adorable girls Salem and Briar Rose, Amber and Joe's Allison and Tucker, and too many others to name!

I think this pretty much brings me up to date, although I've terribly glossed over many important highlights. Maybe someday I'll go into it all, but I'll keep it safely tucked away on my Mac rather than bore everyone on the Internet. (Yes Mom, you can have a copy.) Wow, this was very cathartic! I recommend it. Get typing. Go!

Mullets and Boxed Wine

2009-04-23T18:06:00.002-06:00

Blog? Blog? Where are you? Oh, THERE you are!!

After a year of neglect and, to be quite honest, forgetfulness, my ramblings have been given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by a mulleted friend at the HEB grocery store.

He was glorious. Curly locks flowed gracefully to his waist, his face framed by delicate bangs. His black wife-beater shirt (complete with obscure death metal tour dates on back) gave the distinct impression that he was a true "manly man." Despite his unmistakable Anglo features, the dreamcatcher tattoo placed strikingly upon his pale bicep was testament to his love toward our Native brothers.

His wife/girlfriend/babymomma was equally fabulous, black bra straps on display above her shoulderless neon top- and black daisy dukes riding up to where the sun don't shine.

I stared (while trying to remain inconspicuous) throughout the 15-minute-ring-up while the inept clerk finally realized that lactose-free milk doesn't fall under WIC criteria. I decidedly did not wonder, while fingering my hard plastic bank card, how they could nonchalantly pay for tonight's meal with four crisp new twenty-dollar bills.

Then I looked down at my scant 4-item purchase. A loaf of fresh-baked French bread, fancy Camembert cheese, sashimi-grade tuna steak and...

a BOX of wine.

Next time I go shopping, I better dress the part.

Drinking and Ebaying

2008-06-22T23:40:00.005-06:00

Friends don't let friends drink and Ebay.

I am four glasses of cheap wine in, and finding myself fascinated with retro 80's spandex body suits. Well, maybe not the body suits...but DEFINITELY the bike shorts!

I think I have just had a major craving for my childhood these past few days, as the reality of "Summer Vacation" has gradually sunk in. Oh, have you noticed that I haven't posted for almost a year? Could be the whole "first-year-teacher" craziness, mixed with teaching community ed night school classes and that little matter of grad school. I have been a tiny bit busy.

But NO EXCUSE! I could have spared 10 minutes a month...

Ahhhhh....no time now for repentance. The blog must move forward! So I repeat: I LOVE SPANDEX!!!

But the bod must follow the passion. Remember Jim? Poor Jim. I've been cheating on him with Ben. And I also had a fling a while back with Jerry. I visited Jim exactly once during my adventure teaching this first year of high school, and immediately afterward...I puked. Dammit Jim, I thought we were friends!

But tomorrow baby, it's all us. Us and the new collection of Flogging Molly...yeah...

I think that's all I've got in me for tonight. I feel like I should recap my year, but as our friend Inigo would say...well, you know the drill...

1. Crazy kids need love too
2. Crazy kids sometimes try to jump off balconies
3. It is my legal and ethical obligation to stop them
4. There are some babies I can't help
5. There are others I can...and will...
6. There are other teachers out there who will dance on tables with me
7. I sometimes feel like a hypocrite telling my students to behave
8. Jason buys me emeralds when I come home crying for a week straight
9. My bosses agree with me that I should cry more often
10. I have found a place where I can do some good

Ahhhhhh...how's THAT for therapy?!? 2 more months of freedom...stay tuned...

Celebrating Dad

2008-04-11T22:10:00.006-06:00

The first song I remember learning, in its entirety, is 'That's The Way That The World Goes 'Round' by John Prine. I was barely four years old, and the memory of how the song starts is tied in with Dad's thumb on the low E string of his guitar. I remember feeling proud that I remembered every word, and could sing along with Dad. I imagined funny scenes like a silly clown splashing around in his bathtub and a laughing husband chasing his laughing wife around with a soft hose. The lyrics to the song might be a bit adult for the average four-year-old, but thanks to Dad I was not average.

Still so new to the world, with my tiny fingers and long hair, I learned early that things happen...but the world keeps turning. You might feel bad one day, but the next day will be different. Better. I miss him all the time, and it can be easy to get swept up in sad feelings. But Dad taught me to live life every day happy-- that is why I wanted to share a happy memory with you today.

Sending love and laughter,
Kirsten Lena
(Daddy's girl through and through!)

Rotten

2007-08-24T20:20:00.000-06:00

We all know that Boy Ferret treats me like a princess. (He puts peas under my bed when I'm not looking...) But lately he has gone above and beyond. I went from being merely spoiled--- to spoiled absolutely ROTTEN!

It began with my friendship with Jim. As much as I loved the 80's (who didn't?!) I don't always love jamming out to 'Maniac' and 'We Built This City' for 40 minutes on the eliptical machine. The answer? Either hum reeeeeally loud...or give in to the craze and buy an iPod.

Since, among other things, I am a rocker- I decided that music would be necessary to realize my dream of fitting back into those size 8 Levis. Sadly, I was broke-ola. No paycheck for a while, teachers are paid once monthly. But then (cue the awwwwww's) Boy Ferret came galloping through the misty valley on his white steed, beautiful green Shuffle in his hand-

And now I really CAN rock!

(Side Note: He wanted to buy me the Nano OR AN IPHONE...but I chose the shuffle because of its inherent clipability)

So, a few days passed by. I began training for my NEW JOB...(future posts- keep your eyes open) and Boy Ferret listened patiently as I blathered on about super-exciting topics such as PDAS training and Ruby Payne presentations. He encouraged me to buy "teacher shoes" and even hiked around our construction-riddled campus to see my new classroom. As if that wasn't enough, today he came home with a huge gift, wrapped in flowery paper with a toy frog on top.

Laughing at my surprised face, he announced that it was a congratulations-on-the-new-job present, and forced me to stop smooching him so I could open it. When I was a kid, I was very careful with wrapping paper. The good stuff I kept neat and re-folded so that I could use it for someone else or fold it into paper cranes. Usually we wrapped gifts in the comics section of the newspaper. They were in color, after all! But this present...I ripped the sucka open!

It was something I have wanted ever since Mrs. Parks's Home Economics class in 7th grade. (15 years ago for those of you who are curious but don't want to do the math) Something that I never thought I would have, since it's one of those "luxury" kitchen items. After all, who needs a KitchenAid when you've got a good ole' Black-n-Decker hand mixer?

ANYONE who has ever used a KitchenAid mixer knows the answer to that foolish question.

And this is no ordinary KitchenAid. It's the professional series. Super-turbo-wambo-jambo! With this baby, I can make enough bread to fill my whole classroom! And it's got this awesome burnished silver finish- that I'm just itchin' to paint with flames to match Alton Brown's...

I'd better bake my wonderful husband a lot of cookies.

A place called Jim

2007-08-08T19:50:00.000-06:00

Brace yourself. I have done something that I have never done before. That I've never even dreamed of doing before. Well, maybe once while I was eating a pint of Ben & Jerrys and reading Harry Potter...

I JOINED A GYM!

Yeah, that's right. Get ready for the next generation of Girl Ferret! Abs you can clean your clothes on! Buns steely enough to name Dan! Bulging biceps as far as the eye can see! Or...maybe just elimination of the excess baggage that has crept aboard as I draw nearer and nearer to thirty.

Waaay back when I started elementary school I came home one day and Dad asked me what I had done in school. Excited as I was about all my new adventures, I launched into a detailed account of all the games we played in gym. "Jim?" Dad asked innocently. "Who's Jim?" I rolled my eyes and said, "Nooooooo Dad, GYM! You know, the CLASS!"

"Jim teaches the class?"
"No! Gym IS the class!"
"Is he cute?"
"Daaaaaaaaaad!!"

This continued for quite a while.

I'm sure Dad is looking down at me now, making up stories about Jim. So, that's what I've decided to call it. I didn't join Women's Super Fitness. I made friends with Jim.

Jim has lots of cardio equipment, weights, and clean towels. But the best part about Jim is the classes! I took my first Yoga class today, and I am so frikkin' enlightened, I think I just floated off my office chair a little. Then, foolish me, I decided to jump right into the kickboxing class. WAHOOOOOOOO!!!

As some of you know, I have dedicated a portion of my life to becoming a frikkin' ninja. I can punch. I can block. And I have a mean roundhouse kick that really caught Taylor by surprise (sorry 'bout that...ha ha! No I'm not!) But let me tell you...that class kicked my ass.

However, I have no urge for chocolate ice cream. In fact, the thought of it makes me a little queasy at the moment. I think I better drag myself to the couch and let my silly puppies lick the salt off my legs. Yummm...

I'm tired.

I tube You Tube we all tube for...

2007-08-04T22:32:00.000-06:00

All you Campers out there...enjoy.

Hot Pants #1

Hot Pants #2

Mom and Dad Cow's 4am Serenade

Camp Lapham '07

2007-08-02T23:20:00.000-06:00

Two weeks of family vacation just wasn't enough for me. Two weeks of solid liquor consumption left me feeling...drunk and happy...and ready for MORE!

So I left on my second family vacation of the summer. Who cares if it wasn't my family? Neutron Cow's is as amazing as mine (and less stressful!) So I hopped a plane to Maine and started drinking water in preparation for another fantastic week of fun.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Picture, if you will, the sweet small town of Sanford, Maine. Pristine lakes, untouched forests, and blueberry patches ripe for the pickin'. Wicked awesome seafood chowdah served fresh at McDonalds and lighthouses and lobsters on every doorstep. Wait...exaggerating...But there really are blueberries.

Ahem, so Mom and Dad Cow are amazing, generous people who give up their back yard once a year for "Camp Lapham". The grass gets covered with tents and kiddie pools, and the kitchen table gets covered with Crown and Belvedere.

Again, I will list the high points of our trip, as details will simply not do it justice. Those who were there with us, you know exactly how hilarious each one of these points is. Those who weren't...get ready for next year...

1. Hot pants causes Kris to lose his mind. In the hot tent.
2. Naughty potato salad is as much fun to make as it is to eat.
3. Cheesy Knucks loves it when Brian grinds to her techno song.
4. Hippie drum circles cause an irresistible urge to fire dance for Millenium Falcon.
5. Kazoos really add that special something to the song.
6. Neutron Cow does NOT want to do any more shots.
7. Punching Brian hurts.
8. Cherry dipped ice cream cones at DQ are wonderful. So are Man on Fire chicken tenders.
9. Jacob's pool is extra fun when you're toasted.
10. It is super-important for new best friends to get pretzels tattooed on their boobs. Immediately.

There, that about says it. For anyone who has a myspace account, videos can be seen on my page: myspace.com/girlferret

For those of you who live under a rock and do NOT have a myspace account, (or those who are not internet geeks like me. Wait, if you're not an internet geek you're probably not reading this. Never mind.) I will try to upload to youtube soon.

I have two weeks until I go back to work. Anyone want to invite me along on a family vacation?

KilllersJossIndigoDecemberistsReginaWinehouse!

2007-07-12T13:43:00.000-06:00

Holy F*&%!! Check out the lineup for this year's Austin City Limits Music Festival!!!!!

I just had a huge swoop of excitement UP...then frikkin' DOWN as I found out that Saturday is already sold out. So no Indigo Girls, Amy Winehouse, Muse, The White Stripes, or Blue October for me. Or Jambo (some of you get that) DAMN!! But Friday and Sunday both look good too. Since I'll probably have one of those "job" things by then, I guess it will have to be Sunday.

OK (heartbeat returning to normal) I've still got Regina Spektor. The Decemberists. My Morning Jacket. (heartbeat rising) But I have loved Indigo Girls with a fiery passion for-EVER...sigh...

Gotta talk to Neutron Cow and get these tickets soon!

Skipping Is Fun

2007-07-07T21:38:00.000-06:00

Forget about April through June. I'm skipping them. Nothing much happened...I went to school...I gained more pounds...I loved Boy Ferret...you know, the usual.

Maybe this is the beginning of my newly found dedication to this extra-cool website. Or maybe I'm just procrastinating again. Homework schomework- I'd rather have a beer.

Speaking of delicious bubbly brewskies, I am happy to announce the conclusion of my very first genuine BENDER! Holy crap, my family. We are a merry bunch, a laughing giggling kissing singing bunch. We can have fun in almost any situation. And when we're all together...we're a bunch of frikkin' alcis.

It would be a bit too hard to go into detail. As my friend Inigo Montoya would say, "No, there is too much. Let me sum up."

1. Chugging Taylor's whiskey is a bad idea.
2. Naked pillow fights are a good idea.
3. Sometimes it's OK to tell secrets.
4. Cameras tell all, and sometimes you're the one who's caught by the lens.
5. Every good cousin deserves a good nickname (T-diddy, Z-kitty, S-train, K-monkey, Big E, J-goat, Sha-na-na-na-na...)
6. It is possible to swim around an island with no water.
7. It is possible to skinny dip on the 4th of July in the middle of a boat-filled lake under the fireworks...without getting arrested.
8. No matter how cute the tiny beer mug is, rootbeer schnapps is not a good idea.
9. Tattooed people are fun to read. Captain Morgan's Tattoo is even more fun to drink.
10. We found Neutron Cow's other boobie.

That's enough for now. I should either get to work or go to sleep. Maybe I'll add to Inigo's list later (with pictures? Wouldn't you just love that...)

Until next time my loves
K-monkey

Interest...ed...less

2007-03-29T22:41:00.000-06:00

Have I lost interest already? Blog, don't fail me now!! Maybe it would be more tempting to keep up with this if it had a more romantic title. Like memoir. Or personal reflection. Or even diary. Blog just sounds like something you would cough up.

All I've really got for tonight is this...check it out...

sinisterbutsweet.com, the website of my fellow CVA-er- D.C. Ice. She is amazing.

Gold Toof Hairdresser

2007-02-14T15:38:00.000-06:00

You know the feeling you get when you have just received a really great haircut? Like you're the sexiest damn beauty queen ever to waltz outta the place?

Yeah. I don't have that.

I am the proud new owner of a horrible, tweaky, SHORT, and best of all lop-sided mop.

K, so I went in to Fantastic Sam's, a place where I've been really lucky in the past. Not many places that charge sixteen bucks for a haircut do a very good job, but at good ole' Sam's I've always been pleasantly surprised. I should have known better. When I walked into this one, the lady at the front shoulda tipped me off. I should have run.

Tell me-- have you ever handed over control of your precious locks to a lady with purple and black curly extensions, big old honkin' fake nails, and- get this- a front tooth of gold with an "L" engraved in it...

I think the problem was my epinephrine high. See, I don't have health insurance at the moment and I've been forced to downgrade to primatine mist. A little wheezy, I took a puff before heading out on my big adventure. It made me shaky and weak, and obviously impaired my ability to sense imminent hair danger.

Back to the chair, I handed Lomie (yeah, you heard me) a photo of a cut I liked. I told her VERY specifically that I liked the chunky layers, but I didn't want to go so short. Nothing above my shoulders. Is that vague? Did she misunderstand me? Was she imagining the five-inch shoulder pads that she assumed I normally wear?

Cause damn lady, this hair ain't nowhere NEAR my shoulders!! I hate short cuts. I've never been happy with one. In fact, I've cried over them. Could be something to do with my knee-length hair of younger years? Probably.

Maybe I could have dealt with short. But- this is the worst- IT'S NOT SYMMETRICAL!!!!! I recently read a memoir by an OCD chicky who had to have things arranged symmetrically. I sympathize with her. I'm not quite as obsessive about it, but yes- I like the same number of rings on each hand. I like my eyebrows to be the same shape. And I like my hair to look the same on both sides!!!! Is this rocket science?? It has been many many years since "geometric" cuts were in.

Ok, so she asked if I wanted it styled. I figured it'd be an extra three bucks maybe. Said, ok what the hay- it's Valentine's Day, I can look fancy for the grocery store. Lomie brushed and blowed, and I have two words to describe the way it looked.

Soccer Mom.

I thanked her. I handed over my TWENTY-SIX dollars, plus (I can't bring myself to not tip someone) eight bucks cash. I went to the grocery store, home, promptly washed out the ten bucks of Lomie's "style". So now it's slightly better, I don't look like I belong in a minivan. But- stay with me here- can ya see the problem??

I'm just not symmetrical.

Maybe it would look better accessorized with a gold toof.

coffeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2007-01-26T16:52:00.000-06:00

I decided today that I would really get something accomplished. You know, clean the house- paint that mural I've been thinking about since August '05- make myself a website- get all my homework DONE...

So I started with one cup of coffee. Then two. Then some fudge (Neutron Cow's idea...thanks...) By the time I had finished half of my third cup, I was dancing around Little Brother singing "Three LITTLE speckled frogs SITTING on a hollow log..." Needless to say, I haven't gotten any homework done.

There is a delicate balance between not-enough-coffee and waaaaay too much. I've tried quitting before. But, as Boy Ferret's first Christmas gift to me was a gigantic stuffed Starbucks bear, I don't think I will ever try it again. Ever. My parents both drank coffee, my grandparents, probably my great-grandparents too. You see, in Minnesota, coffee goes with everything.

That was the only thing Boy Ferret really enjoyed about the cold city. He loves coffee as much as my mom does- which is saying a lot- and doesn't stop to wonder whether it really goes well with pepperoni pizza. (uh, yeah it does...duh?)

According to good ole' Wiki, 90% of North Americans ingest caffeine every day. And, I have just learned, it is found in the beans, leaves, and fruit of over 60 plants, where it acts as a natural pesticide that paralyzes and kills certain insects feeding on the plants. If you're worried at all about going bald, try drinking 60 cups a day...that'll stop the DHT that damages hair follicles.

And hey- check this out...
"Some people seeking caffeine intoxication resort to insuffilation (snorting) of caffeine powder, usually finely crushed caffeine tablets. This induces a faster more intense reaction. The symptoms of caffeine intoxication may include restlessness, nervousness, excitement, insomnia, flushing of the face, increased urination, gastrointestinal disturbance, muscle twitching, a rambling flow of thought and speech, irregular or rapid heart beat, and psychomotor agitation."

So now you know, if you ever wish to induce gastrointestinal disturbance, exactly how to do it.

Which leads to the question....WHAT'S THE POINT??? Um, in case you haven't been paying attention...

I have had too much coffee today.

I just did enough research to write a paper. Unfortunately, I found out nothing about the integration of art therapy techniques in the special education classroom.

But DAMN I'm typing fast!!!

Semicolon Ice Storm

2007-01-16T12:51:00.000-06:00

My first class is tonight, but I won't be going. I also won't be visiting any public schools or small businesses. If I feel like selling my soul, I might go to WalMart...they don't mind battling the elements to save you a buck.

Oh, you're wondering why? Ice storm. Big One. Hail the size of...the dot at the top of a semicolon.

OK, OK, a little bigger than that. But as an Alaskan transplant in Texas, this seems a bit absurd. Last year when this happened, there were around 100 car accidents in an hour. So shutting down the city may seem silly, but I guess it's justified. And I must admit (don't laugh) I'm freezing my buns off.

I used to pride myself on my hardy, crusty Alaskan toughness. I'd go swimming the day the ice broke on the lake, and when the thermometer snuck anywhere above five below (got that?) I'd wear shorts and leave my leather jacket un-zipped. In the summer when the sun blazed and temperatures shot up to sixty-five, I'd longingly dream of a car with AC.

Then I moved to Texas.

The coat I wore to college every day in Minnesota, where the wind blew strong and cold enough to freeze mustard in a bottle, is no longer warm enough for me. When my house gets down to sixty-eight I either bundle myself in twelve layers of sweatshirts or turn up the thermostat. It's not unusual to see me in jeans in the fall, when it's around eighty-eight degrees.

I used to laugh at my friend from Brazil, who constantly complained about the St. Paul chill, while me and my arctic cohorts walked calmly to class wearing no hat or gloves. But now it's probably thirty degrees outside, I'm near a window in my office, my fingers are close to numb, my nose is cold and runny, and I think I'm going to go microwave my slippers.

So much for crusty.

What Animal Am I?

2007-01-11T21:44:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was spent in line. Financial Aid, Registrar, Financial Aid again, Business Office, Campus Police, Testing Admin, Help Desk... ahh to be in college again!

One of the highlights of my day, aside from dropping $200 on three (used!) books was visiting Ye Olde Bookstore. You see, inside the store one might find paperclips and vine charcoal, book bags and rosaries (ahem... Catholic college) and, I was pleased to discover, even a hot cup of coffee. But keep your eyes open and if you're (un)lucky enough you just might catch a glimpse of the Hardcover Hag.

She has green, slimy teeth and brilliant orange eyes that glow in dark corners. Her long snarls of mouse-poop riddled hair tend to fall out in clumps, leaving a clear trail leading back to whatever nasty nest she last inhabited. Hardcover Hag hails from the steamy swamps of Kentucky, and it is her bitterness at becoming an employee of a Texan institute of higher learning that has led her to survive on a diet of confused freshmen rather than her previous menu of snake entrails.

Wicked, huh?

(I think I'm just mad at her for being bitchy to a student employee right in front of me, ordering him to do her bidding instead of helping me find a book. He apologized to me under his breath, so I will spare him the title of Hardcover Hag Underling)

OK, so that sounded a little bitter. Actually, I found it quite funny. Funny because, under the advice of former Lake Bookstore employee and good friend "the middle part of: Bressicamy," I had refrained from applying for a job at said bookstore. I didn't really believe Bressicamy when she said to stay away because the manager is a little nuts-o...who could really be that bad? I'll tell you who;

The Hardcover Hag.

Back to the title of this post. The esteemed Our Lady of the Lake University is the first college I have attended that has an official mascot. Mat-Su College doesn't even bother to spell out it's entire name, much less devote the time and energy necessary to create a buzz around an animal that represents its ideals and spirit. The College of Visual Arts has recently adopted the mighty squirrel as its representative, but that came after my time.

The Lake boasts a very prestigious, indigenous animal to carry the responsibility of instilling school pride and excitement at games or events...I'll give you three guesses what it is.

Falcon?
no.
Rattlesnake?
nope.
White Tailed Deer?
way off.

Our symbol of school pride is the impenetrable...ARMADILLO. Yeah, you heard me. And you know what they call orientation for the year's freshmen?

Get ready for this.

Camp Dillo.

Now, some might scoff and say that the armadillo is useless. That it does not do anything practical for us, like pack supplies up rocky mountain trails or allow the blind to lead more fufilling and independant lives. But I ask you this, what would an armadillo race really be...without the armadillo?

All right, this post is growing a little too long. I don't want you to get bored. So me and my new Armadillo t-shirt are off to study for the GRE and learn a little bit about kiddos. Until next time...

DILLOS RULE!!
(stop snickering. I clearly said 'dillos'.)

Sitting Sidesaddle

2007-01-10T22:59:00.000-06:00

My approach to blogging is to randomly write down whatever title pops into my head and expand on that topic. That's my approach for tonight, anyway. Tomorrow my theme might be limericks or politics or...asterisks? (I only recently discovered that I have been saying, very incorrectly, "astericks." Somebody finally axed me to say it right.)

I don't really know much about riding sidesaddle, except that it must be very uncomfortable. Necessary for those wearing hoop skirts, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

I would have been the renegade woman in the early wild west, wearing pants and riding my horse like I meant it. No man would want me, because I could beat them all at arm wrestling.

But, Mom- you know this, what I really would have done is run off to join the Indians.

Dead Birds in Austin

2007-01-09T18:38:00.000-06:00

That last post was boring. I gotta say something interesting or I'll lose my one loyal reader. So...

Yesterday on Commerce Avenue in Austin 60 birds fell out of the sky, dead.

Got your attention? Good, cause that's all I've got. They don't know why yet, and they say there's no horrible bird-borne diseases out there, but it certainly seems like some seriously bad mojo.

Since that wasn't really so very interesting, here's a poem I'm about to write...well, now that you're reading it it has been written...but at the moment, this moment, I am just as anxious to read it as you...

Song of an Emo Bird

A bird above in circles flies
catches the breeze and wipes its eyes
thinks of other birdies woes
their lack of fins and hairy toes
It's all too much for our birdie friend
he knows the gloom has got to end
To die alone would be even sadder
so he laces worms with poison matter
Throws a hip black tie affair
for all to eat and drink, mid-air
And when they're drunk and hip and fed
They circle round and all drop dead

Hah! That explains everything. (I'm such a dork)

Coffee and FRIED CHICKEN

2007-01-09T18:17:00.000-06:00

I don't like fried chicken. I always pick off the skin, so what's the point? But right now, I'm dying for some. Could be the diet of coffee and stale, leftover Christmas candy I've been so dedicated to today.

I'm in a bad mood because nobody's going to give me the moolah I asked for. This whole graduate school thang hinged on one small, tiny, itsy bitsy matter of about twenty-seven grand. See, they lured me in with promises of the CoMET grant, then POW!! No money for you! So now what? Loans? Pawn shop? Change plans to become world-class fried chicken taste-tester?

No pressure though, I've got a while to decide. Like, a couple of hours. Tomorrow is the day...to register or not to register?

My ridiculous dog is freaking out.

The stupid fluffy one, not the stupid black one. The stupid black one ate the toilet paper roll again today, and one of them pooped in the hall. I wonder how much I could get for them?

Starting...NOW!

2007-01-08T20:59:00.001-06:00

Welcome, all, to the first ever glimpse-via-blog into the world and mind of Girl Ferret.

No, I'm not a superhero. Yes, you might want to believe I am a superhero. I have been known to leap small puddles in a single bound. Surprising as it may sound, the name has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my romantic entanglement with Boy Ferret. It's true. I am married to a fuzzy mammal who purrs when I tug his ears.

You say you want to hear the story? All right, snuggle into bed. Have someone "fluff" your covers and get ready...

Once upon a time, in a pre-Kirsten era, just after the massive marketing success of the Budweiser Toads, Boy Ferret worked. And worked. And worked and worked. After one especially heinous triple shift, he mumble/muttered something to a co-worker. "What?!" The comrade, just as sleepy as our hero, could not understand him. Boy Ferret repeated himself, but to no avail. The weary colleague proclaimed, "Man, you sound like the damn Budweiser Ferret!"

It stuck.

J was henceforth known as Ferret. On occasion, The Ferret. That was all. Until that fateful day when he found me.

Enter: Internet Girl

We met, fell in love, and before long I was dubbed "Girl Ferret" by default. "The" Ferret became "Boy" Ferret. Together we are The Ferrets. Or Damn Ferrets. Or Frikkin Ferrets, when Neutron Cow catches us in a particularly cute pose. We live in a republic: the Republic of Ferretakistan. And, after more than four years as ferrets without ferrets, we adopted Skwentna and Maui.

So my story begins. After reading this far you might be intrigued. You might be bored. You might wonder, "This is a rather mundane bit of a story, but still I am interested. What is this phenomenon I am experiencing, and who is responsible??" The answers are, in the following order: Voyeurism and Hanni.

What's more fun than peeking into open windows while driving down a residential street? There is a certain satisfaction we get in finding out something private, especially if it is not something that would otherwise be discovered. So, while many of you already know the origin of "The Ferrets", I promise you that in future ramblings you will venture further into the happenings of Female Mustela Putoris Furo.

As for the "who", my girl from Alaska, fellow lover of those who smash pumpkins, the one who wasn't afraid to headbang with me while everyone else did the electric slide, everybody give it up for HANNI!!! And check out her blog, Hanni Haus. She's a writer, I'm an artist...I'm going to give this a go because her blog entertains me and I'd like to try to return the favor-- and when she comes to visit I'll throw a paintbrush at her and see what happens...

For now, Neutron Cow has just handed me a beer and cooked up a pizza...I'm off to pretend to understand football as a form of thanks.

Until next time, my ferret followers...