Raccoons, dairy artisans, a BK song, and GTF woes

But not in that order.

I am eating cheese that I purchased from the guy who made it. An honest-to-God cheese artisan. It's delicious, if expensive, and another peek for Erica into the world of agriculture. Cheese comes from jug-eared, lanky guys in rural Oregon, not the grocery store. It's chipotle cheddar. This guy has a blue cheese that's backordered until 2006 -- it won best blue in 2003 in the UK. My Wallace side came out in full force at this guy's booth.

Also: I could probably eat Dijon mustard with a spoon. Love it.

Studying at the library last night, a raccoon looked at me through the window (cutely) and disappeared. I was in the quiet room, so I couldn't squeal with delight. But I wiggled a bit in my chair and grinned like crazy.

My grandfather sent me a very heartfelt write-out of his family's history in Hungary/Transylvania. I shouldn't have read it at work. With his inimitable good humor and thoughtfulness, he outlined the family tree and how Rothmans, Mannheims, Bolgars, and others survived (or didn't) the Holocaust. We still email in German, at least partially. "Wir haben, "schrieb ich "eine mutige Familie." Suddenly, studying German has taken on a lot more significance.

Before I read that today, I visited my GTF for this survey course that I care about less and less every minute. She gave me a lame grade on a pretty good paper with some cryptic and pointless commentary on the sides and back about "political context" (not in the prompt) and arguing "more vigorously" to justify leaving out a particular line of this sonnet. It was an unsatisfying visit. She stood by her nonsense. To her credit, there are two points that I needed to draw out. I'm almost glad I went because of that. Now I know how nitpicky she'll be. But she seemed to think that it was the grade that bothered me. What bothered me (other than the fact that her point scale was ridiculous -- taking "a few off" of a 15 point paper and a 30 or 50 point paper makes a difference to the ratio, despite her allegations that I can make it up. If the whole class is 115 points, that's way slim) was that she didn't respond to her invalid criticisms. I think I may have frightened her, though; it was early, so I was in the "not talkative, somewhat somber, straight-faced" mode, and she got pretty uncomfortable toward the end of our little office hours session.

Bottling the Knockout Girly Beer tomorrow.

Another blues stringer back home

Looks like blogger added a "recover post" feature for all those works of genius that the internet eats when its feeling ornery. Just another reason I like it. Not that I've been showing my love for the blog lately.

To condense, I've been really homesick lately. Or peoplesick, I guess. I miss my Anchortown buddies to the point of tears and Eugene, while it's not Spokane, isn't exactly wildly entertaining.

On the less-whiny side, I'm going to see Sarah Vowell in Portland at Wordstock. The name is cheesy, but Miss Vowell's speaky is free.

And I'm listening to the Who, which tends make life easier overall.

Also: I just literally found an ant in my pants. Apparently, they're back with a vengeance, the little fuckers.

Just a couple quick things

I'm taking a silkscreening class at the craft center and brewing beer. The class is a bit dull, mostly on account of the teacher, but as soon as we're actually into the guts of it, I think I'll have a great time. It took me a hell of a long time to figure out why exactly one would want the emulsion to dry on the screen, but after an hour or so of unclear lecture and a less clumsy demonstration, I finally got the idea. And the beer! I'm making a raspberry honey ale that may well push 6.5 or 7% alcohol by volume. Hence the name: Knockout Girly Beer. Now you all know my thoughts on drinking and drunkness, so I say all this trusting you guys understand my joy at making stuff, not drinking it. hmm. rising incoherence. At any rate, it should be concurrently sweet and hoppy -- a really interesting, refreshing summer beer, methinks.

Meg is in my german conversation group, and that makes me endlessly happy. Less English, more German...hooray!

been sleeping poorly. missing people. Bailey, are you out there? I would really love to hear from you, my dear.