Back to School

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I have always been glad to point out to people (OK, mostly to plebotomists taking blood or nurses putting in an IV) that having good veins

 is one of my talents.  My other talent is 

school.  I don't usually tell them that.  

Somehow, it doesn't seem relevant.  

Tonight, however, it is not only relevant, but totally ideal to think about.  Summer session at Palm Beach State begins next week.  I am signed up for two classes.  One is an Environmental Issues class in the Horticulture department.  My guess is that the bulk of the material will deal with environmental issues effecting how land is planted, watered, landscaped, arranged, preserved . . . or something like that.  

It is required for the Landscape Architect certification program.  I am also taking an Internship/Work Experience class in the Horticultural program.  Both are taught by Dr. George Rogers.  He is the kind of teacher that could make a crumpled paper cup into an interesting subject.  He approaches very difficult, compact material and opens it up so that you feel like you are discovering the subject all by yourself . . . with him standing off to one side, cheering you on. More 

concerned that students adsorb the material, his disarming (kind of off-kilter) jokes and nick-names for flower and their characteristics combine to make it possible to learn and then USE that information; making sense of the world.

I am excited about the coming chance to re-enter the sweet, swirling vortex of organized learning.  

In "You Have Mail," the main character talks about a bouquet of 

sharpened pencils--and I love the thought of that image.  Though it has little to do with the tools that I use to learn--computers, bytes, binomial systems, tables and lists found on-line and then memorized.  

Still . . . the piquant moment when freshly-sharpened graphite and wood pencil meet clean, white paper on a flat wooden desk top . . delicious.

What I Do When Brent Is Gone

This evening Brent is in DC; Nathan is at the stake center for Institute; I found out this afternoon that I got a 104% on the Trig test I took Tuesday . . . and this is how I celebrate my quiet, victorious evening . . .

Actually, this is not the beginning of my "celebration"--I should have gotten an image of when I first dumped the two boxes of stuff--kind of like "junk drawer" stuff--out all at once on the floor.

Roo and Murphy (one of our two sets of rabbits--each bunny came into our home at a different time, so it was a really tough balancing act to get each in and out of his/her cage so that each got enough exercise. Puting more than one out resulted in (literally) fur flying all over the room and rabbits with great bald patches on sides and faces) were in the kitchen for their "frisking" time. Roo didn't appreciate the plethora of obstacles covering her carpet in the kitchen. Murphy, however, was enchanted. He carefully noted each object--no chewing, no pooping, no pee-ing--just a thorough inventory of all the new, small stuff he'd never seen or smelled before.

I started by deciding that I would "fix" a plastic bin drawer that is filled with extra bunny toys, flea drops, brushes, etc etc. Since it is old (I have a hard time getting "new" for the rabbits--and they don't care either way), the front of the bottom drawer had cracked. I had been working with some zip ties yesterday, so I decided that I'd poke some holes through the plastic on either side of the crack--to put the ties through. I found my small Lithium household drill, but couldn't find my drill bits. Then I decided that I'd just get the tip of a screwdriver really hot in the flame of a candle and melt the holes through. After discovering that it would take me much longer and much much much more trouble to wing it, I got up and went outside to Brent's workshop where I quickly found one of his heavy duty drills and properly sized bits. I brought them into the kitchen where I sat while Nathan finished eating some soup. I had the drawer in my lap, when I began to drill through the plastic on the front of the drawer. Nate jumped up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing this."

"Why? It's broken and really old." (Yes, he is a college student.) "You don't have to do that."

"I know--but I WANT to do it and I WANT to do it this way."

"Oh."

Anyway.

In the process of looking for the drill bit and then a candle and a screwdriver to heat up--I had emptied two of our "household junk" boxes out and all over the kitchen floor.

I drilled my holes and zipped up the neon yellow ties (very attractive mending job--like the cross-stitched scar up the side of Frankenstein's forehead--appropriate for Halloween . . .) so now the drawer holds together beautifully--OK, NOT beautifully, but . . . wonderfully. At this point, Nathan was going out the door on his way to Institute in Stuart (about 30-40 minutes). When he left, the floor was nicely layered with odd bits of stuff we always need and always use, but very seldom return to their original storage place.

In the first photo you'll notice pens, staples, elastic bands, hair pins, two glasses cases, some utility knives, stickers, LOTS of different kinds of tape (medical, electrical, double-sided, packing) and some circlets of craft ribbon. There were pins and one needle, paper clips, a pencil sharpener, computer screen towelettes, papers, 4 light bulbs to my sewing machine, markers, highlighters, safety pins, two pair of pliers, a big and cheap screwdriver and a tiny and expensive screwdriver. There was a black tipped feather--from a gull, I think--and an exquisite stain-glass tree that Lauren made and gave to me a few years ago. This photo is taken about the time that I had gotten all the nails and screws into one pile, the loose coins into another, and amassed a handful of those umbilical cords that connect kids ears to their music.

Usually about this time, I run out of steam--take in the vast mess for the work that it represents (in getting it put away) and then dump all of it back into the boxes from which it came. The Fates were kind this evening.

It has just begun to pour down buckets of rain outside. Sometimes I mistake the AC coming on and the rain outside for each other. The AC kicked on about 15 minutes ago now and the windows behind me are echoing the beats of rain on the patio cement floor.

PS If you look carefully, you can see Oops! our mostly white rabbit, keeping close to the hutch door--he stayed there the whole time that I was moving stuff about. Usually he prefers to keep to the darker, back corner of the double cage that he shares with Peter.

I just noticed it.