Is it Syllabuses or Syllabi?

I was in a bookstore Saturday digging through the clearance table and found a treasure. I've wanted this book forever; I saw it about 2 years ago, but at $50 it was too rich for my blood. So it was there for $20. Even then I hemmed and hawed (as anyone who's ever been shopping with me can tell you is not uncommon), because last Saturday I spent all my money on a beautiful new bag. I've gotten a lot of compliments (free) for my bag ($50). I like compliments. Feel free to send me as many as you want. C'mon, they're free.

More of the bag story: I was at the farmer's market in Bellingham with my friend Kim, recently returned from exotic travel to Egypt, where haggling for prices is common and expected, so she tells me I should try to talk the price down. It felt like a dirty trick as I'm telling the woman (the bag's creator) "I'll give you $50." (originally priced at $55) To which she agreed easily but I still feel guilty. It's the American in me I think, where going into a store is straight forward, you look at the tag, pay the price, hold onto your receipt, if you realize later that your purchase was:

• a mistake
• overpriced
• rubbishly made
• rent's due
• etc.

so, you go back to the store and after standing in line you walk back out with your cash. $$

More of the book story: I was in my yard (my parentals actually) earlier this year and saw a huge, beautiful woodpecker. It was gorgeous. I could not believe it. I knew we had woodpeckers (you can hear them, and see their holes all over the tall dead, craggy tree in the back yard) but I didn't realize what kind. After some investigation I was excited discover that it was the Pileated Woodpeaker. Although uncommon in western Washington, not impossible as shown in this map:

I found a website (see side panel for link) that is a treasure trove of information and bird call recordings, and so began my love affair with birdwatching. I started looking everywhere for birds, I carried a little bird field guide around in my bag for a while. We also have barn owls (confirmed by Angie and Dave) and bats (not birds). This spring and summer I've seen eagles, hawks, swallows, finches and lots of others. The barn swallow is a fun one to watch. They are like kamikaze fliers zippy around, nose diving and pulling out at the last minute. Barn owls mate for life and raise two or three little families of owlets each summer (some in our backyard). But my favorite bird watching experience? I went down to the Nisqually Wildlife Refugee, and I saw a cheeky Canadian goose making her nest in an abandoned eagle nest! Truly. It's about a hundred feet up a tall tree and one of the tour guides I talked to later said it's the 4th year in row that she's done it. When the goslings get big enough to climb out, it's a long way down. They also have wood duck houses all over the refuge. Have you seen Planet Earth? The wood ducks in that are one of my favorite scenes and probably closely depict what the little Canadian goslings experience when they venture out of the nest. We don't have Mandarin ducks here, but they are close relatives to the wood ducks down at Nisqually. Turn my music off to hear the video better.

I digress, back to the book story: So, I'm standing there, flipping through the book, longing to own it. Each page shows a bird, describes it and assigns it a number. You find the numerical equivalent in the small screen to the right and hit play to hear the bird's call. HOW COOL IS THAT!! Very cool indeed. Folks, I bought it. What could I do, I realized that it would be a perfect addition to my classroom library.Which leads to a depressing topic. My days of freedom are dwindling (one of 3 words in English starting with dw, extra credit if you can name the others).

Wednesday is the first day of school. I know my sisters are excited because their kids will be getting back into a routine again but I can't decide what to wear. I need to go school shopping. The best part about a new school year.

Come On Kiwis!

I've been watching the Olympics for the last several days. I have to report some sad news: after reviewing the medals count, (yeah! Micheal Phelps) it has come to my attention that my beloved (adopted) homeland of New Zealand has yet to secure a medal. *sigh*

Never fear, more events, great athletes and some exciting competitions coming up in the que. We're cheering for you guys!


So for now, if you want to hear the Kiwi National Anthem, you'll have to hear it here. (It's on my playlist).



Understandably, cheering on the Olympians makes me hungry for carbs. So, I mixed up a large bowl of blueberry pancake batter; YUM!
Now I'm cheering and fulfilling a deep psychological need for maple coated, blueberry infused, carbohydrates. What could be better?

New Zealand on the platform.

GO KIWIS!

Oh, this is just sad.

I'm so embarrassed. Here are my results.

Created by OnePlusYou - Online Dating Site

I teach 8th grade science for crying out loud!! I guess you should be glad that I don't teach your kid.

Star-Crossed Journey to the Promised Land

There are some things I refuse to be totally honest about. With that disclaimer, you can know that some of what you're about to read is complete rubbish. But I will start with a true premise and embellish it in whatever way seems appropriate.
The locking system on Honda cars is diabolical. In order to secure the premises, you must lift the handle to the diver's door as you are shutting it or it doesn't actually lock. This is a detail I knew and understood on Saturday morning when I drove myself to the airport in a friend's Honda. The plan? I drive myself. Put the car in long term parking. She'll pick it up when she gets back to town on Tuesday. It's a great plan because, although I was staying in San Antonio, I was flying out of Austin.

But, due to a series of star-crossed events, my wallet (with my photographic identification) was no where to be found on Saturday morning. My hope was to arrive to the airport with plenty of time to spare. My hopes, however, were fated to be dashed.

I unpacked and repacked my suitcase 3 times. Looked under couches, chairs, beds, tables, laundry baskets and even the fridge. Where is it?! No clue.

So, I got to the airport a little later than anticipated. As I’m driving up to the parking lot, the concern that’s rolling through my brain is what if I can’t get through the security gate with my Pacific Science Center ID? What will I do if the car is locked and I can’t get back in? So let me pause here and tell you the correct answer: take the car key with you. Obviously my friend has a spare key, because the plan was always that I should just leave the key under the mat, lock up the car (see directions above) and she’ll get it later. While I fully acknowledge the brilliance of that plan now, it did not cross my mind at the time. My plan was to leave one of the back doors unlocked. What’s the chance that anyone would notice and steal the car? In my defense it was early, no one I knew in any time zone was awake to tell me what a dumb plan I had conjured out of the depths of my brain. So I went with it.

I remembered to lift the handle as I shutting the driver’s door. I walked around to the back seat passenger side door I had planned to leave unlocked. Reached for the handle. Nothing. Here’s the theatrical rendition.

Car: I am locked.

Me: Locked?!

Car: Yes.

Me: No!!!!

One detail I didn’t know about the Honda car door locking system, is that lifting the handle locks all the doors. Even the one you just reached over and lifted the button to leave unlocked. Even the one specifically selected because that’s the side of the backseat where your suitcase is sitting. So there I was, standing in the parking lot of the Austin, Texas airport, with no suitcase, no wallet and no time.

I realized that my only choice now was to walk away and hope the security guard thinks my smile is charming enough to let me through with my expired voter’s card (no picture) and my WWU student ID (fuzzy picture from 5 years ago).

Luckily charm is something I have in abundance, so a few agonizing minutes later I was seated in seat 16B on my way back to the Promised Land.

What’s the best part of the story—when I got to Seattle I didn’t have to stand at the baggage claim and wait forever for my suitcase to come rolling around the carousel.