Category Archives: Education

It's Nebraska week and tensions are running high here in Wyoming

You know where to find me on Saturday.

This week, of course, marks the first – and likely very last – time the sweet Husks will travel to Laramie.  I’m going.  My little brothers are flying in from Washington state and New York, respectively, to go along, as is one spouse, our dad, and one friend.

Tensions are running high here in Wyoming.  This afternoon I was walking to work wearing, as always, my red Nebraska cap, when some old guy sprayed me (well, sent a couple drops in my direction) with his garden hose.

“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing with that hat on?”

I failed to come up with a properly pithy response.  Since I imagine that this will happen again in some form this week, if you’ve got a good response, please post in the comments so I can use it next time.

And this will be the view.

I’ll keep you updated on other assaults to my person, as well as my heroic slogging on in the Scarlet & Cream, as the week wears on.

Go Big Red.

 

It’s Nebraska week and tensions are running high here in Wyoming

You know where to find me on Saturday.

This week, of course, marks the first – and likely very last – time the sweet Husks will travel to Laramie.  I’m going.  My little brothers are flying in from Washington state and New York, respectively, to go along, as is one spouse, our dad, and one friend.

Tensions are running high here in Wyoming.  This afternoon I was walking to work wearing, as always, my red Nebraska cap, when some old guy sprayed me (well, sent a couple drops in my direction) with his garden hose.

“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing with that hat on?”

I failed to come up with a properly pithy response.  Since I imagine that this will happen again in some form this week, if you’ve got a good response, please post in the comments so I can use it next time.

And this will be the view.

I’ll keep you updated on other assaults to my person, as well as my heroic slogging on in the Scarlet & Cream, as the week wears on.

Go Big Red.

 

See, this is what's wrong with soccer

The caption reads: Ghana’s defender John Paintsil, right, and Ghana’s midfielder Andre Ayew, celebrate after Ghana’s loss to Germany.

They lost, and yet they get to run around the field in triumph.  I just can’t get into that.  This is what you’re supposed to look like after you lose:

The guy sitting on the ground crying lost.

As I type this, I see that Ghana just beat the US 2-1.  Now they’ve got something to celebrate.   Good on ’em, and I hope they party till their faces fall off.  Hopefully they’ve liberated my favorite sports sites from soccer tyranny, extended the life of my mouse by avoiding a lot of clicking away, and we can all go back to parsing the pre-preseason college football rankings with maybe an occasional dash of tennis thrown in.

See, this is what’s wrong with soccer

The caption reads: Ghana’s defender John Paintsil, right, and Ghana’s midfielder Andre Ayew, celebrate after Ghana’s loss to Germany.

They lost, and yet they get to run around the field in triumph.  I just can’t get into that.  This is what you’re supposed to look like after you lose:

The guy sitting on the ground crying lost.

As I type this, I see that Ghana just beat the US 2-1.  Now they’ve got something to celebrate.   Good on ’em, and I hope they party till their faces fall off.  Hopefully they’ve liberated my favorite sports sites from soccer tyranny, extended the life of my mouse by avoiding a lot of clicking away, and we can all go back to parsing the pre-preseason college football rankings with maybe an occasional dash of tennis thrown in.

Killer

Straightaway after graduating from college, I spent a month in Hawaii trying to surf.  Emphasis on the “try” – I did way more flailing than surfing.  I did get to see some killer waves up close and personal, though, paddling out into the surf after a friend of mine, a fairly accomplished surfer, Hawaiian-born and raised.  I was born in Montana and raised on a farm in western Nebraska.  I had no business being out in 5-foot Hawaiian swells, none whatsoever.

I’m a pretty strong swimmer, but Hawaiian waves don’t care if you’re a strong swimmer.  I came very close to drowning at least twice, and got plenty pummeled the rest of the time, fighting for oxygen and the primal fear of tons of rushing saltwater.  It was sublime.

Naturally I’ve been fascinated by surfing ever since.  From a distance.

So multiply those waves by 4 and you’ve got the waves at the Eddie Aikau surfing competition recently held at Oahu’s Waimea Beach.  It was the first time in 5 years the waves have been big enough for these psychopaths.  Killer.

[vodpod id=Groupvideo.4163942&w=425&h=350&fv=%26rel%3D0%26border%3D0%26]

more about “Best Waves and Wipeouts of The Quiksi…“, posted with vodpod

You might want to turn down the volume so as not to be subjected to the music.  Spotted at The Awl.

Words I have learned

Whole new vocabularies have sprung up while I was gone.  Such as “hoochie momma”.  That one I figured out by context.  But how about “snap?”  I kept hearing / reading that one, yet it remained a total mystery to me.  Fortunately, someone I know had a handy-dandy graphic:

snap

Thanks, Meg.

The other day one of the immigrant students I teach part-time (sometimes I feel like they should be teaching me how to cope with America, but I digress) came in with a word he had seen that day and written down: “staycation.”  I was sure this was a mistake.  Did he mean “satisfaction?”  Citation?  Way station?  But he insisted this was the word.  Finally I consulted dictionary.com and learned that staycation is, in fact, a word.  Coined in 2003, which happens to be the last year I spend any significant time in the US until this year, it means a vacation spent at home.  Who knew?

Then there is “owned”, and “pawn’d.”  I think I’m starting to grasp these, but I’m not quite sure.  Anyone who’d like to fill me in, feel free to do so in the comments.

But I did hear one tonight that makes perfect sense.  On sports talk radio, of all things, which I’ve spent about 11 minutes listening to in my life, most of that coming in the time it took to switch the dial.  But tonight whoever it was was holding forth about Henry Aaron.  He called him the “Natural Home Run King.”

All natural.

All natural.

Has this become common parlance since the villain Barry Bonds trashed all that was still good and true in America’s besmirched former national pastime?  I don’t know.  But it was perfect, just perfect.  So perfect that I’m going to type it again.  The Natural Home Run King.  That felt good.

The Afghan Women’s Writing Project

Stop reading this blog and go read the posts at the Afghan Women’s Writing Project.  The internet is filled with forgettable trivia.  This is the precise opposite.  These are the voices from Afghanistan that the barbarians in the Taliban and their buddies are trying to silence.

Afghan women's writing project

Are you still reading this?  Stop.  Go there.

Thanks to Donigan Merritt for the link.

The Afghan Women's Writing Project

Stop reading this blog and go read the posts at the Afghan Women’s Writing Project.  The internet is filled with forgettable trivia.  This is the precise opposite.  These are the voices from Afghanistan that the barbarians in the Taliban and their buddies are trying to silence.

Afghan women's writing project

Are you still reading this?  Stop.  Go there.

Thanks to Donigan Merritt for the link.