Productivity!

I find that I'm productive in bursts: that I'll accomplish a lot for like, a week, and then the following two weeks are far less impressive. This isn't to say that I'm slothful during the post-productive stretch - I'm just...I don't know, more average. What I'm saying is, this week has been ueberproductive!

I've made my reentry into the world of running. Hook and I went running twice last week in the park, and I did a 5K (without stopping!) this morning on the treadmill. (Note: I feel like treadmill runs are "cheater" runs, but this morning I didn't feel like holding my giant-ass keyring and my iPod as I ran, so I opted for the gym instead. I'm paying for a membership, you know? Might as well use it once in a while!) I'm trying to take it easy & not be overly-zealous, but I have a good feeling about the the coming months and finally entering some races.

Despite my lack of formalized plans, I'm pretty excited about the summer. My dad and Donna and my cousin Matt have (tentative) visits to SF scheduled, and Ali might also come out for a weekend. Dan and Alison are taking a trip to Portland, and I hope that Hook and I will meet up with them there. I'm hoping too to go back to Minnesota for a few days (during the State Fair, ideally), possibly road trip to Galesburg. I can almost smell the green of the cornfields. As much as I love CA, there's something so perfect about late summer cornfields, their rustle and sway.
That said, I am never going back to Cincinnati.

Also: I love my Chacos. They are possibly the best shoes I've ever owned. One of the best pairs of shoes I've ever owned, anyway.

ALSO: anyone want to go to the Grand Canyon during the next few months?

Editing time.

[Live & active] culture shock

 I was not predicting much (if any) culture shock upon reentry into MN - after all, the Twin Cities are pretty progressive. Parts of the cities, anyway. Lo, was I wrong in my prediction! I went to the local Cub Foods this afternoon in search of Fage 0%, and the employee working in the dairy section had never heard of Greek yogurt. I subsequently went to Rainbow (the other major MN grocery chain), where there was one (1) tub of Fage in the "Natural Foods" section. This singular tub, whose sell-by date is a paltry five days from this day, sat lonely beside some "Italian" gelato and like, two varieties of Kashi frozen entrees. I bought this singular tub, even though it was $2 more expensive than its MA counterpart, and even though it is not as fresh as I'd normally prefer.

I don't get it: I thought Greek yogurt was popular nationwide? I believed (wrongly, perhaps) that its creamy texture and high protein content were major selling points, even among suburbanites wary of anything with "Greek" in the name. But, I was wrong. 

Also notable here is the lack of Vera Bradley products and Sox Gear. (The latter, at least, is understandable. GO TWINS!) 

Wrap Up

At once an eventful and seemingly slow-paced weekend. Saturday, A., J., and I went to lunch at a Greek restaurant in South Hadley. (A. has been craving Greek food and so we decided to make a trip.) The restaurant was the best sort of horrible: dining room was dead silent, but for the low-volume lite rock soundtrack; decor was a cross between a strip club and a funeral parlor (highlights: mirrored Venetian blinds, wallpaper border that alternated images of the Parthenon and the Bud Lite logo, white/gold Naugahyde booths). Our waitress was helpful, the food was terrible, and the immediately recognizable scent of resin wafted from the kitchen at uneven intervals. After we left, A. told us that she'd read that the place had roaches. Niiiice.

Our Superbowl gathering was low-key: just four of us with Midwestern delicacies aplenty. I wasn't rooting for one team or the other, especially, though my sympathies lay with the Cardinals (based on their supposed underdog status). It's strange: I never used to enjoy watching sports - pro or otherwise - but this trend has reversed itself in the past two years. I do appreciate the social aspect of spectation, but also the knowledge of the athletes' skill: how much training has led to each performance. Yes, I feel (strongly) that pro athletes are paid waaaaay too much, but thinking of the physical perseverance required of said athletes is kind of awesome. (Instant replay only increases my appreciation - seeing some of those collisions in slow-mo makes me cringe, and makes me glad that I'm not a pro football player.) Perhaps my own rekindled interest in physical fitness has inspired this more abstract appreciation of athleticism? Who knows.

A crazy week ahead/in progress. Meetings, appointments, thesis work (the end is near). Last week, fueled by nostalgia and consistent doses of Tylenol Cold, started writing a story I've been thinking about for years. I'm not sure if I'm pleased with the partial draft or not: pleased with the voice, not necessarily with the mvmt. Will keep at it.

Last night, I dreamed that I was in college again, this time at UMass. I kept taking on responsibilities - working at the circulation desk at the library, helping clean the horse barns (for free?), joining flag team. And I was really stressed out because I'd obviously overcommitted myself, and then I woke up.

TODAY IS THE LAST DAY OF CLASSES:

though, this good news is irrelevant to me, since I taught my last classes yesterday.

I cannot be totally filled with end-of-semester glee, however, because I have three days of Final Conferences with students (Mon-Wed next week) and then my FINAL GRADING. Still, though, after I'm done with those shenanigans, I'll have a good two weeks to: work on some crafts, hang out with my mom for Xmas week, and refine/finalize my creative writing syllabus. And re-read some of the books I'm teaching. Totally manageable, right?

I am becoming perhaps inordinately excited for my impending move back to the Midwest. (Warning: this may turn into a minirant about Why New England Can Never Be As Good as Minnesota, Wisconsin, or Illinois.) It's not that I dislike New England: nay, it would be foolish of me to claim hatred for an entire region. I just dislike the certain part of N.E. that I'm living in now. Having grown up in a midsized suburb of Minneapolis, and having gone to college in ueberrural Illinois, I'm no stranger to the non-city life. I do not mind driving to my favorite deli, or to a concert, or to a museum. Yes, it's nicer to be able to walk to these things - to have access unhindered by the pain-in-the-ass activity that is driving - but it's not requisite for my happiness.

That being said, I'm starting to get restless in the li'l corner of MA where I now reside. It's just really...small. Imagine it as a less cool, way smaller Peoria. Or, for Minnesota residents: a less cool Blaine or Andover. YEAH. There's nothing that's open 24 hours; the nightlife is a little meh; the restaurant scene (with a few notable exceptions) is a lot meh. Meh. Now I'm just whining. What it really comes down to is this: the Midwest is my home, and though it's not on a coast*, it is leagues better than Western Mass. The end.

*Actually, neither is my current city, despite its supposed "coastal" status. BOOYAH.

Also:

Am scoping out the housing scene(s) in the cities where E. and I might possibly move next year, and HOLY CRAP: housing in the Midwest is so, so much cheaper than it is here, I can hardly stand it.
Damn.