So, I have this bad cut on the tip of the middle finger on my right hand. The short story of how it happened is that I was making pancakes on Sunday morning and I cut myself. The long story is that after breakfast I was cleaning out the blender and tried to pry the blade assembly from the pitcher with my fingers. The entire time, I'm thinking "this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea." Right about then, the two pieces popped apart and my finger slipped onto one of the blades. And then a little voice in my head said, "Well, what did you think was going to happen???"

Honestly, I don't know how I've gotten this far in life.

When I was little, my dad used to sing a lot. He would sing songs to himself while he was washing the dishes or walking me to preschool; any number of things, really. Most of the time he didn't know all the words, so he would make them up. I've been thinking a lot lately about a song that he made up about mayonnaise. It was set to the tune of Nat King Cole's "Mona Lisa." But because Mona Lisa has 4 syllables and mayonnaise only has 3, he added a fourth at the end. So the song began: "Mayo-nnaise-a, mayo-nnaise-a, mayo-nnaise-a..." and then, because nothing rhymes with mayonnaise (much less mayonnaise-a), the next line became "do-de-do-de-do-de-do-de-do-de-do." I don't know why it's been in my mind lately, but I've been singing it to myself while reading for class, grading papers; any number of things, really.

You don't really think about how much you value hot water, at least I didn't. Until it went away. John was rinsing out some dishes this morning and noticed that we didn't have hot water. When he went to check the water heater (cleverly named, if you ask me), the pilot light was out. After several failed attempts to re-light it, we called the gas company to have them send someone out to check it out. When the gas guy arrived and looked at the water heater, he remarked that the thermocouple (eh?) was shot. Now, I'm not claiming to know anything about water heaters or thermocouples, but I do know that that doesn't sound good. And so it isn't: the water heater has to be replaced and, because it's original to the house and is no longer up to code, it needs to be brought up to code. Translation? A water heater that would normally run $250 or so is going to cost... well, several times that amount because the plumber needs to go through our roof to install a flue.

Home ownership: friend or foe?

To be a graduate student in the Department of History at UF, you have to have a major (mine is American History), an "inside minor" (mine is Women's History/Gender History), and an "outside minor" (mine is Women's Studies). The point of the outside minor is... well, I'm not really sure what the official point is. But I suspect that the point is to get us involved in other departments and to expand our horizons. I have a hunch it has something to do with character-building as well, but I can't confirm that. At any rate, the upshot is that in order to satisfy the outside minor requirement, you have to take two classes in that department. Last fall, I took Advanced Feminist Theory, and many of you had the good fortune (or bad luck) to hear me gripe about that. This fall I'm taking a class called "Sex, Love, and Globalization." We're looking at the multivalent ways in which intimacy and power mix on the global stage. It's taught by a woman hired by UF from the University of Iowa, so she's a fellow Midwesterner and I appreciate that. Plus, the course is actually really cool and we've been reading some good stuff. Most recently, we read a book called "The Heart is Unknown Country: Love in the Changing Economy of Northeast Brazil." It's a lovely book, well researched and beautifully written. It's an anthropological ethnography, but it's well-grounded in history. The author, Linda-Anne Rebhun, spends a lot of time detailing the background of Brazil, and demonstrating how the past plays an important role in the present. It's something not a lot of people outside the discipline of History do, so I was especially pleased to see it. And I planned on bringing it up in class.

When I got to class, though, the general cry among the other graduate students was that there was too much history, that it was boring, that it took away from the (I'm not making this up) "fun stories." I'm a stranger in a strange land, I guess.

Every year, inquiring minds yearn to know what it is that I want for my birthday and Christmas. And every year, I tell them that I'll think about it. But here's the truth (and this is my wish list dilemma): the things that I want are very expensive. For example: I'd love to have this super cool iron bed from Crate & Barrel. It's a beautiful bed, but it comes with a hefty price tag. We'd also love to fence our yard. Or redo our deck. Or put in a tile floor in the kitchen. Sadly, though, these things all cost loads of money. So what do I tell people that I'd like? It's a question for the ages.

As a woman, there is possibly no more enlightening experience than going to a barbershop with your husband/boyfriend/guy friend/random man. You will notice two things:

First, the barber will inevitably ask you, as "the boss," how you want said man's hair to be cut. He assumes that you are at the barbershop in the first place because you give a damn what said man's hair looks like. Going off of that assumption, and in an attempt to bond with his customer, he will jokingly (or not) talk of you as if you are a shrew, a harpy, a scold. Thereafter it is unlikely that he will address you, except perhaps to get your opinion on how he is doing his job.

Second, the barber will further attempt to forge a bond with his customer by talking about naked women. There are different ways they use to bring up the topic, but it always happens, so I try to watch for it. And I'm always amused to see how long it takes a given barber to play the naked woman card with, after all, a relative stranger.

I happened to accompany John to his haircut today. It wasn't by design and it certainly wasn't because I'm in the least bit concerned about how his hair looks. No, it was because the barbershop was on our way home and it was easier to stop and get it taken care of then. Needless to say, the barber (knowing that I wasn't there for a haircut myself) asked my opinion several times on how John's hair should be cut and then, within approximately 2 minutes of John's butt hitting the chair, we were all treated to a story about two twin sisters in New Orleans (named Mona and Lisa) with huge breasts. Ahh, the experience of a barbershop. There's nothing quite like it.

When we lived in Kansas, John and I experienced our fair share of bad drivers: KU students, Johnson County drivers, sorority queens, blue hairs, you name it. But the worst had to be Missouri drivers. Missouri drivers, I thought at the time, had to be the worst drivers on America's roads. That was until I experienced the pure hell of Georgia drivers. When you see a Georgia driver, get off the road as fast as you possibly can! Run red lights, speed up, slow down, in short do whatever it takes to give those maniacs a wide berth.

So now, when John and I see Missouri drivers in Florida, we welcome them. Then we warn them about Georgia drivers...

I have been trying to keep current events out of my blog, but this story moved me to post: "Authorities in New Orleans have informed animal rescue teams that they have three days to rescue all dogs before they start shooting them. They believe that dogs are eating dead bodies to stay alive and need to eliminate them." According to the Pasado Safe Haven website, "Animal rescue groups were not allowed into the water until last Tuesday. To give us just another 72 hours to get a job, of biblical proportions done, is ludicrous." As if it isn't bad enough that the federal government let down the citizens of the Gulf Coast, now they are taking aim at perhaps the most helpless of all. If you can, I urge you to donate to animal rescue operations in the affected regions. The Louisiana State University School of Veterinary Medicine has opened its doors to help those animals in need, but they need donations to buy supplies. And Pasado's Save Haven group, which is actively and around the clock rescuing stranded animals, has a laundry-list of necessities. Federal and local governments have, at long last, begun to help the human victims of Katrina, but they will do little (if anything) to help animals in need. Please, if you can, open your hearts and wallets to give them a chance.

I was window shopping on Amazon.com this evening and I happened to do a search for the Mad About You dvds. I innocently typed "Mad About You" into the search field and one of the things that came up (I swear, I'm not making this up) was "Aaron Star's Hot Nude Yoga." Which leaves me to believe one of two things: 1) Someone at Amazon is having fun at my expense, or 2) Someone at Amazon needs to improve their search engine.

The thing about blogging is that you've always got to come up with something interesting to say. It wouldn't be a terribly captivating blog if I constantly posted a laundry list of what I did on a given day. No, in order to appease those clamoring crowds, I've got to have intrigue! Sex! Violence! Spelling and punctuation errors! So I'm always on the lookout for new and exciting things to blog about, which is a task in and of itself. And then there's the self-censorship. Knowing as I do that my close family and friends (people to whom I have to be able to show my face) have this blog url, I feel compelled to keep things clean. This is a family blog, after all. No NC-17 ratings here. So when I see a sign at Sonny's Barbeque that boasts "pork three ways!"-- well I've just got to control my overpowering urge to blog about it. So if I go days without posting, now you'll understand.

...you make lemonade. How many catch phrases like this have people come up with through the years in an effort to inspire others to bear their ill fortunes? I think I prefer brutal honesty. When life gives you lemons, as it is prone to do, just shut up and eat your damn lemons.