Lasagna and a Movie

You read that right--enterprising first years Ariel and Emily actually made meat and vegetarian (so good!) lasagna, garlic bread, and salad last night, and played "A Princess Bride." In my opinion, it was delicious. And it was all concocted in the Armstrong/Douglas kitchen--everyone was impressed. And then there were root beer floats! So heavenly.

I had the vegetarian recipe, then I lost it while trying to find Dr. Bob's camera (which I found, but had no batteries). Does that count as an ironic situation, or is it just something Alanis Morissete would think was ironic?

Good times and conversation were had by all. Later in the night, stimulated no doubt by the convos and food, three enterprising students (Katie Blanchard, Ben Kaplan, and myself) taking Contemporary Political Theory decided to have a read aloud of their dense theory textbook. To our surprise, this actually worked.

Conclusion: first years need to make food for me more often.

--Johanna

Power outage in WC, rest of campus

The following is a minute-by-minute account of the 5 minute-long power outage which affected most of campus this Thursday's eve:

at 1842 hours (or thereabouts) : all lights, computers, monitors, printers, scanners, hot water heater, coffee maker, and fish tank aerator turn off. Silence reigns. Perhaps for the first time since these offices became the CWC.

1843 hours: Dr. Bob enters the main room, carrying a flashlight. His only words: "I see the emergency lights came on in this room." Indeed they had.

1844 hours: Andrew Klingler decides to play the hero and investigate the rest of the building to see what other lights are off. Hanna Werner and I watch him leave. Dr. Bob leaves in the opposite direction to do a similar survey. Werner and I are completely alone.

1845 hours: I call Security. They already knew about it. Steve Singleton arrives to give us moral support.

1846 hours: Werner and I debate which horror movie this is most like.

1847 hours: Power returns. Dr. Bob returns a few moments later. Coincidence? Or extraordinary brilliance?

Dr. Bob: "I'm just gratified to know that I was able, in the dark, to find my flashlight."
Klingler: "28 Days Later--lot of power outages in that movie too."
Kyn: "...."


- Johanna

Dr. Bob's Chili Feed

The WC’s doors opened Tuesday night for a staff-only chili feed, made even more delicious because of the sub-zero temperatures and snowdrifts battled by staff members on their way to free food. Between sips of lemonade, red cheeked consultants compared Christmas breaks and bemoaned the start of classes. Topics overheard: bowling matinees (particularly the “greasy ball” phenomenon), the allure of small town Iowa (with delightful turns of phrase such as “balls to the wall” and “mello like jell-o”), and Julia Childs’ career in espionage.

Both meat and vegetarian chili had been prepared by the indefatigable Dr. Bob, as well as an array of fruits, carrot sticks, chocolates, and cookies. The cornbread quickly disappeared, and the regular bread barely made it to the table before it was divided amongst us, leaving a flurry of crumbs in our wake.

The biggest development over break is the addition of a door near the kitchen area. This door leads into the Speaking Center. Observant consultants noted the presence of a spiffy Mac. I think this is a bit like adding new fish to an already-populated tank. Hopefully a tank that meets a better fate than the WC’s. If only we could put the speaking center consultants in a clear container in the middle of the WC while we acclimate to their presence. I wonder if we can make them clean our dishes. Most importantly, are they exempt from Dr. Bob’s no-nuclear-weapons policy?

- Johanna

Things I Learned in Las Vegas

1. Clocks are an optional accessory in any establishment
2. Marriages are far more comman-place than one would expect
3. Always bring a box of blister pads while traveling
3b. Shoes are for comfort, not for show
4. There is a significant gap between IWCA's idea of breakfast and my own idea of a breakfast
4b. Bring your own food
5. When everyone in town is on vacation, they're all friendly
6. Diversity is important

- Johanna

Kids make great writers.

- Johanna

Bare my sole(s)

I've begun picking a random day out of the week when I don't wear shoes. Yes mom, I do look out for pieces of broken glass. But I also got to spend a glorious ten seconds shuffling through the fallen leaves between Voorhees and Gage.

[sidenote--Ok, alums of Dr. Bob's walking class, help me out here. It's a compound leaf, the only tree that has changed color (currently goldenrod), and the leaves are tiny and soft. Not crunchy in that satisfying autumn way, just....swishy.]

Anyway, going around barefoot is great. My feet don't smell like shoe, and if they get wet, they dry fast. It's like a foot massage everywhere I go.

Maybe it's a coincedence, but this day was way better than yesterday. No joke. Yesterday, in typical ineptitude, I forgot to get recommendations for my Fulbright. Today, in a spurt of industriousness, I'm writing a blog entry for the Writing Center.

Oh, bare feet. You ground me so.

- Johanna

A cuppa coffee

My relationship with coffee is an intense one. I know that sounds hyperbolic, but hear me out. I won’t forget the first time I got a coffee high. In typical eager nerdyness, I had not only been elected Treasurer of Colere, but I also decided to re-organize the binder of Treasurer information into something coherent. Due to its availability of caffeine, I elected to use the WC as the staging area for this endeavor. Once I lost count of how many cups I’d imbibed, I was giddy, singing, and using the CWC hole punch with extraordinary fervor.

I know, bizarre-o.

During my semester in Nicaragua, I spent three weeks in a village whose main industry was coffee farming. Who knows how many hours I spent with my host family, picking each bean individually. The bean is embedded in the fruit of the coffee berry, meaning that after the coffee has been picked, it needs to be de-pulped. My host family used a hand-propelled depulper, which looked like a circular cheese grater that removed the outer fruit layer so that none remained on the bean.

Then the day’s harvest ferments overnight to loosen up the outer husk of the bean. The following day, all the beans are washed, and the de-pulped, de-husked beans are set out to dry. Family members will spend hours over the drying trays, picking out every bug bitten, green, or rotten bean they find. Then they sell their crop at a fraction of the price we pay, and arrives to us pre-roasted and pre-ground, contained in a tasteful WC mug.

I don't ask that anyone feel bad, guilty, whatever. What I want to be recognized is that real people have picked every individual bean, and that these beans go through a lot to arrive in our cup. One of the faults of an industrial society is that we rarely know much about the origins of our purchases. It's not like writing a paper, where the writer is painfully aware of its inception and tortuous revisions. This is more like reading a Hemingway novel.


- Johanna

a study of place

If I had to pinpoint a specific location in the writing center I love the most, it would have to be the second computer in the WC library. While I of course stay in the main room if I'm working a shift, the area manages to balance both the element of solitude and company when I’m writing. With the door closed, I can concentrate on whatever it is I’m writing at the time. But the second I hit writer’s block, there’s a room full of people just around the corner being PAID to talk to me about my homework. So I grab a cup of coffee on my way to the next room, and start working out the kinks with somebody. What could be more ideal?

  - Johanna

I love the WC retreat

For my first WC blog entry, I shall of course cover our recent retreat to the great Painted Rocks. I don't have permission yet to use people's names, so I'm going with first initial until I do.

Before sundown, several beginner consultants, P and J especially, had proven themselves to be superior pyro-technicians at the resort’s fire pit. Confusion ensued when E opened the hot dog box to find them frozen solid. I took action at this point, and micro-zapped the hot dogs until they could be jabbed onto a stick for roasting over the flames. Feeling very proud of myself, I sat around the fire to socialize with the new and returning consultants.

It’s a difficult thing to meet new people. I know I could have done a better job of making the new consultants feel more comfortable. At the same time, I know that as our new consultants work their hours in the WC, at least my face will be familiar and (I hope) welcoming.

Once the fire died out, most were ready for bed. C had the brilliant idea of bringing her pup tent along and I crashed it for the weekend. Nothing like mounds and mounds of pillows for bedding. Below, please note the photograph of me diligently finishing off a tin of baked beans while basking in the extravagant comfort of her plastic shelter.

Saturday, we practiced conducting workshops, conferencing, and writing short papers more or less simultaneously. As a Writing Center Fellow for a First Year Seminar class (so many proper nouns!), I needed the workshop experience so I could later conduct them for the first years as they prepare their Portfolios.

The night’s festivities was a double feature at a drive in movie theater. Passing cars honked vigourously as families, teenagers, and WC consultants enjoyed the canned scripts of The Clone Wars and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. I personally don’t know whether the success of such terrible writing is encouraging or not. In any case, much tickling and buffoonery ensued. Below, please note some documented merry-making.

We wrapped it up on Sunday with some sage advice passed down from senior consultants to our new recruits (my favorites were from L: always take the comfy chair, never microwave your socks, the WC fish will die), some last revising and conferencing, and the grand finale: the WC skits. My personal favorite was M’s portrayal of Kyn, the Center’s mannequin.

And that was it. My last WC retreat. May the year officially begin.

- Johanna