Indulgence

I've been feeling kind of down lately, between the problems in the department, my to-do lists, and my issue with unstructured time, so yesterday, after I dragged my lazy butt to the gym and forced my heart rate up into the healthy cardio zone for 30 minutes and tried to focus on This American Life on my ipod instead of Regis and That-woman-who-replaced-Kathy-Lee talking about some new, Guantanamo-style interrogation mind-control technique called the High-Heel-A-Thon, I decided to take some control and cheer myself up (although I didn't try that pound cake recipe). I went to Half Price Books down the street, which is a little piece of heaven as far as I'm concerned. Not quite seventh heaven, but maybe second heaven. Or third. I had a gift card, which made it even better, because as you might have noticed, I'm trying very hard to save money for the fall, when my pay will be reduced by half, and for the house I would someday like to buy, and for the Lasik surgery I would someday like to have, and for the food I would someday like to eat, etc.
Books are very possibly better than anything in the entire world, especially when they're cheap (I could just go to the library and check them out, like some good people I know, but I like to own them). A balm for the soul and all that. Here is what I bought:
The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini
The Desert Rose, by Larry McMurtry
Oxygen, by Andrew Miller
The Optimists, by Andrew Miller
Bury Me Standing, by Isabel Fonseca

Weighing my options

Most of you know that I'm spending the summer working on a research project, funded by grant money I won with my research proposal. You may also be aware that Professor R. with whom I'm working has been more or less MIA so far. I've been trying very hard not to panic about this. I've been doing all the things I know to do to structure my time and get work done and not be the Needy Student, which works better for me some days than others. Deep down, though, I am the Needy Student - I learn much more from people when I feel like they like me, and care whether or not I'm learning. So when I got an email from the chair notifying the department that R. would be taking this next year away from our department to work as a visiting professor at a German university, it felt kind of like someone kicked my feet out from under me. See, I'd been planning to ask R. to be my M.A. advisor, since the woman I'd actually like to have as an advisor has been postponing a meeting with me since March, and is supposed to be on sabbatical this fall or maybe the entire year, depending on which rumors you listen to. And this is in addition to the fact that R. was (is, until he leaves, I think) Director of Graduate Studies for the year. This position is pretty important - just below the chair in terms of determining the direction of the department and curriculum, and totally responsible for most of the grad student programming, as well as advising those students who haven't chosen an official advisor. This position was previously held by my nemesis, the jerk who tried his best to ruin our conference, who will BE FILLING IN FOR R. AS DGS until a suitable replacement can be found (which will be difficult given the fact that it seems like our department is basically hemorrhaging professors - R. was one of only 2 faculty who were even working with students). Sigh.
So this is frustrating, and makes me feel pretty uneasy about the future of my program. Also makes me fantasize about The Bakery, which still needs a great name and a clear focus (Breads? Cakes? Pastries? Granola? Will I sell breakfast, or breakfast and lunch, or coffee, or wine? A cafe/bakery, bakery/deli, or just bakery?). And a business partner. And a big fat business loan. It seems like a ridiculous fantasy most of the time, considering the education I'm getting and my experience with business, but someone pointed out to me the other day that my chances of making it as a German professor are probably about equal to, if not worse than, my chances of making it as a small business owner.
Is it a sign that writing this post makes me want to go try my new pound cake recipe, rather than tackle my new book on film theory? Even though it's already 80 degrees here, and film theory doesn't need me to turn on the oven?

Beating the System

If you know me, you know that I'm cheap. Maybe frugal on my best, splurgiest days. My desire to avoid wasting money, however, often works with my belief that the system is designed to cheat me and my is-it-worth-it system of calculating value to make my life very difficult. For example, parking. Having grown up in a town with more than enough free parking, and having been scandalized when our only parking garage started charging (gasp!) something like $1 per hour, I have a very hard time forking over money for parking now (this is just one of the many reasons I rarely go to the other, pricier side of the river). This is especially difficult on campus, where there is no free parking within a mile of anywhere I ever need to be. When I need to go to the library, or the dentist, or my office, I calculate how many other, better things I could buy with the money I would have to pay to park close to where I'm going (the aforementioned is-it-worth-it system): the spots closest to the dentist, for example cost something like $5 per hour, which is lunch, or half a bottle of cheap wine, or a couple of used books. The cheaper lots cost $3 per hour, which is a gallon of milk. Then there are meters, which almost never works for me, because I have to have quarters, and because one quarter only buys me 12 minutes, which just seems ridiculous. So I park miles from anywhere and hike all over campus, which is how I almost missed my dentist appointment and nearly died of heatstroke yesterday. I've also been known to visit more than one grocery store on the same shopping trip just because I know milk is cheaper at one, but tortillas are cheaper at the other. I have to walk all the way through the farmers market before I can buy anything, to be sure I'm not paying too much for sub-par green onions. Actually, you can apply this routine to almost everything I do, from buying textbooks to shoes to plane tickets. Since it hardly ever works out in my favor (e.g. when I spend so long comparison shopping plane tickets that the fare goes up $200), and I realize that the effort involved in beating the system is usually not worth the money I could save, I've resolved to relax (just a little) about this.
The first test: today, I have to go to campus for an eye appointment. I've been having a lot of trouble with my contacts lately, and they've tried all kinds of different brands and solutions and stuff. If these contacts work, I was planning to take the prescription off the sample cases and order them online for less money than the clinic would charge me. But with my luck recently, I'd probably have my identity stolen from the contact lens website and wind up having to declare bankruptcy just because I didn't want to spend that extra $50. So today, I'm going to just grit my teeth and tell the clinic to order my contacts, and use that extra hour I would have spent trying to order them online doing something more fun, like finding prescription sunglasses. I'll probably even pay for parking (but at a meter, I think - don't want to go too overboard).

Update: these contacts are not working, now there's a new solution and eye drops every two hours. If this doesn't work, the doctor I've been seeing has recommended that I basically give up on contacts altogether. Sigh...
Also, I did not pay for parking, but opted to walk a few extra blocks instead. This is especially good, since I'm going to be paying more for my vision now than ever before. I'm working to be less cheap when it's not productive, but hey - I still have a budget.

I don't get it.

Today at the gym: an infomercial about how to rid your thighs of cellulite, ER reruns, and this Charmin commercial involving a vacuum (paper ad at left - I couldn't find a video online). Now, I was listening to This American Life, so I wasn't paying close attention, and I didn't really catch the connection between the vacuum cleaner and toilet paper. I was so perplexed that I nearly fell off my treadmill. What is this about? The toilet paper is so strong that it's like vacuuming your butt? It's so strong that it won't leave bits of toilet paper on your butt that you'll later have to get a friend to vacuum off?
Note to advertisers everywhere: enough already. Don't you people have focus groups or something to prevent this sort of ridiculousness? Who told you that this would make anyone ever want to buy your product? Do you have such serious digestive problems that you think it would be neat to have toilet paper akin to a vacuum? Maybe you should see a doctor.

I don't get advertising.

Good News, Bad News: Bureaucracy

Good News: I got paid today!
Bad News: I got paid far less than I was expecting.
Good News: Rob loves me and won't let me starve.
Bad News: The U. would probably be happy to see me starve, since it would be less of a financial burden on them. Especially with all the man-hours I'm burning through trying to get ahold of someone who is both willing and able to fix my problem.
Good News: At least the issue is that they withheld too much in taxes, so I probably won't get in trouble with the feds over this.
Bad News: In order to get the correct amount of money, I have to wade through 13 levels of bureaucratic hell.
Good News: I just left a voicemail for someone working in level 10, so hopefully this gets resolved soon.

Good News, Bad News: Gas crisis

Bad News: Gas is really expensive.
Good News: Gas prices are causing people to drive less.
Bad News: Gas prices aren't going down anytime soon. Or ever.
Good News: Gas prices are driving (ha) people to bike more.
Bad News: Many of these people haven't ridden a bike since 1976, have no idea how to signal a turn, do not wear helmets, and otherwise fail completely to follow any traffic laws whatsoever.
Good News: I haven't hit a cyclist (although my record might change the next time one of them tries to run a red light going a whopping 3 mph).
Bad News: I'm starting to seem pretty anti-cycling, when I'm really just anti-stupidity.

In support of feral cats and other scavengers

Walking the dogs is always an adventure, but this time of year in Minnesota, it becomes a particularly gruesome adventure. All the icky things that were safely frozen in snowbanks all winter thaw and start to rot. The smokers start to smoke more without the threat of frostbite. Birds mate and build nests. People eat fried chicken on their porches. So in addition to the half-eaten sandwich from Subway's January special, Cricket and Nick try to eat the fresh piles of cigarette butts, the chicken bones people (inexplicably) throw in their streets, the crusty old carcasses of animals that froze to death in February, and most disgustingly (to me, at least), the baby birds that fall out of the nest. Then, of course, they want to give me kisses. It seems like this year is especially bad. Where are the scavengers? The feral cats, the raccoons, whatever else eats this stuff before my dogs get to it? I want them back!

One of these things is not like the other...

Remember that Sesame Street song? Couldn't get it out of my head this morning at the gym, where I pretty obviously did not belong. It was my first time at Lifetime, which I joined because I got a huge discount for being engaged to an existing member. Also because I am NOT trekking all the way to campus just to work out this summer, and because the weather here will not snap out of "April Showers" mode.
So. I was there at about 8:30, which is a lot later than I'm used to working out, but is apparently rush hour for housewives. It was me, 30-40 youngish, yuppieish, mom-types, and 4 or 5 guys in their late 20s. The moms were chatty and very polished for being at the gym - manicures and really expensive gym gear - and were not about to ruin it by breaking a sweat. There was lots of speed-walking. I wore my best gym clothes, and still looked pretty scrubby, which was not improved by how red and sweaty I get when I run. I felt like I was in a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, or the Before in a Redbook makeover.* The guys were oblivious to everything but their own bulging muscles. One of them was so mesmerized by his own reflection that he almost stepped on me while I stretched. All the machines in the place face the same floor-to-ceiling mirrors and 15 big-screen TVs.
Aside from feeling out of place because of my scruffiness, I was completely thrown by the TVs. Now, I try not to watch too much TV, and I never, ever watch morning TV. I also am clumsy enough that I can easily hurt myself on a treadmill if there are too many distractions, so I tried to ignore the TVs, but MY GOD. It was like a train wreck of a montage of everything that contributes to that sad, restless feeling (what Matt and Marty might call a sniggle of evil) which I am trying to combat BY GOING TO THE GYM. Seriously. 2 sets were on stock market news (FYI, the economy still sucks), 3 were on the weather (cloudy and rainy, probably for the rest of your life), at least 4 were on morning shows dedicated to fad dieting and summer fashions (carbs are out, metallics are in), a few were set to celebrity gossip (Jessica Simpson has a cellulite problem, everyone else is having babies), 2 were set to cooking shows (healthy new chicken recipes! dinner in 30 minutes or less!), and the rest were set to at home fitness machine infomercials (you poor fat slob, paying to go to the gym - if you buy a Superflex 3000, you can get washboard abs, a tan, and happiness in your living room!).
Maybe it improves profit margins to make gym rats feel ugly/hungry/weak/poor, but GOOD LORD. Can't I get some PBS? Some nature shows? Maybe this will be the summer that I learn to read and jog at the same time....
*To be fair, I'm sort of one of these women in training. I don't technically "work," I did drive my SUV to the gym, and although I don't have babies, I do have Cricket, who ate half of a whole (uncut) cantaloupe from the kitchen counter today while I was running, and who inspired a single-mom friend of mine to tell me that babies are often less work than dogs.