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I'm playing at Adam's with Sam
December 26, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
 I'm playing at Adam's with Sam. We're making up a pirate song which goes a little like this: It's hard to be a pirate, you never get to play/ you're always working on the ship all day/ and when you get some booty, you spend it all on grog/ when you wake up in the morning, they call you scurvy dog/ it's hard to be a pirate, a-slaving on the seas/ always working on the deck a-swabbing on your knees. I'm having a great time, obviously.
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I'm also trying to arrange for some high scho...
December 14, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
I'm also trying to arrange for some high school friend time this break. This is the crazy run-down of what my old pals are doing:
Conor Reidy is getting his JD from UVA.
Kyle Lamb renounced consulting, moved home and is taking pre-med classes at the U.
Meghan McMorrow is also back in the Lane County working with Pier One.
Sarah Wheeler is still selling the best vegan lube in the nation.
Alan Bergland is getting a doctorate at Brown studying mosquitos.
Morgan Munro is dating a very special South Eugene High School alum who saved me from failing pre-calc my junior year.
Katie Freund is using all her debate team skills with Earthjustice in DC.
Sara Spettel has yet another dog and is still happily married to a pastry chef (and who wouldn't be?).
Marshall Clement is living it up in Brooklyn and doing justice reinvestment.
Jenny Minnity Shippey's name still has that musical internal rhyme, which she is using to her advantage getting a masters in creative writing.
Jim Bergland is engaged to be married.
Luke fired himself and took a trip to Baja Mexico.
Ashley Harris-D is researching allergies and asthma in children at National Jewish Medical and Research center in Denver, CO.
And I thought my life was exciting!
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Anna and I are getting ready to go on our res...
December 13, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
Anna and I are getting ready to go on our respective holidays, madly brainstorming the re-use of those last crusty Thanksgiving leftovers. Work is slowing down, and I'm spending my waning days at work looking over grant funding for a community project that a few community members and I are dreaming up. Nothing special, but a nice change of pace.
I also finished making my secret snow monster gifts for my secret people. As a childless aunt, I have more freedom to take that "personal touch" to whatever creative place I want to without robbing a child of their dream Moon Boots or Ultimate Princess Pack. That's what parents are for.
And as for Emma's urge to say thanks, I too have been satisfying a similar urge at home. Anna lets me hold hands with her and wish all the migrant workers who picked our vegetables the best of luck. I think it makes us more mindful eaters.
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In response to Seraph, a funny little thing I...
December 12, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
In response to Seraph, a funny little thing I found about the 40-hour work week. This is from the people who read what the people and McSweeny's bring you (http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/openletters/12workday.html):
AN OPEN LETTER TO
THE EIGHT-HOUR WORKDAY.
June 13, 2005
Dear Eight-Hour Workday,
Before I was hired at a 9-to-5 job, I had no idea how long you were. I skipped along blissfully through life, never questioning the sanctity of each moment. The phrase "9 to 5" was merely a metaphor for "people who have real jobs." Now that I have arrived in this world of suits and scheduling, I know the truth. Eight hours is an eternity.
I have decided that, with the amount of people in this country working eight hours a day, this society should be much farther ahead that it is. We should have flying cars that are fueled by used cooking oil from McDonald's. We should have a creative and well-funded education system. We should have universal health care.
What if you devoted eight hours a day to something like origami? To working out? To learning? You'd be the smartest, buffest paper folder this world has ever seen.
Granted, when we say "eight hours of work," we don't really mean eight hours. There's the time it takes to take off your coat and say hello to co-workers. There's walking from the desk to the water cooler. There are at least seven or eight bathroom breaks a day. And we mustn't forget sustenance. Shoot, when you think about it, an eight-hour day really comes down to a good four hours and 54 and a half minutes, give or take.
I guess I'm ignoring part of the equation here, and that is that, as human beings, we are not capable of concentrating on anything longer than The Legend of Bagger Vance, let alone eight hours. If a writer sat at a computer and worked on a novel for eight hours nonstop, she would have a whole lot of crazy in the end (not that I would know). There are limitations on the human mind and body that must be addressed. If a person needs a Minesweeper break every hour on the hour, then, by God, it's about time for the next game.
I've strayed. The crux of everything I've said here today is that eight hours is a freaking long time. In my day so far, I've e-mailed several people, applied for a credit card, done a few things for work, and written this letter. I still have four and a half hours to go. I guess that means I still have several bathroom breaks to cash in.
Olivia Roth
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As the Christmas season crushes us, I thought...
December 08, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
As the Christmas season crushes us, I thought you might be interested in this website, which chronicles quite a few companies' labor and environmental practices: http://www.responsibleshopper.org/
I'm plowing through the week, waiting for students to give in to finals and then disappear for winter break. Until then, they keep me on my toes. And I love them for it. But as I was hauling 96 bottles of "wellness" odwallas to a refrigerated space for tutor thank-you brain-food bags, I wanted (just a little) for a more consistently paced job.
I got through it by singing really loud to an Artichoke song that goes like this:
do you know Mary Anning? born on a southern shore/her father Richard was a cabinetmaker
and Richard died too early and left the Annings poor/but lucky Mary Anning found an icthyosaur
by circa 1820 she ran a fossil store/she put the bones together for the collectors
and science was the province of men of noble birth/but I'd take Mary Anning over those stuffed white shirts
ancient life that sleeps as fossil
she was walking the cliffs on her own by the sea/she was wondering if there were shapes underneath
there were men with their cash but that's not what it took/she could read every line on the ground like a book
she assembled the bones of the past in cement/and she sold them in town for a couple of pence
and she showed all the men how the bones could connect/though at first some would scoff they would grow to respect
(repeat first verse)
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Oh the joys of snow
December 04, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
 Oh the joys of snow. While Anna and I had planned on making a cuboidal snow robot, this little bundle of joy is what appeared.
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As promised, here are the most beautiful sh...
December 04, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
 
As promised, here are the most beautiful shrunken apple heads that Williamstown has ever seen. They were a big hit between Anna and me on Halloween, although a passing trick-or-treater's mom did ask if they were actually apples. I like to interpret that as an expression of delight and awe at some fine-looking heads.
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This morning, Anna heard that her granmother ...
December 02, 2005 by Sadie in Sadie & Greg
 This morning, Anna heard that her granmother passed away. We had expected it, but had a little quiet morning because of it noetheless. Hopefully, all of Anna's mom's family will still gather in Phoenix every Christmas, even withiout its matriarch. It snowed all day today.
In other Anna news, she's playing fiddle for a Celtic dance group in our fancy new theatre this evening. Should be fun.
This is the beautiful wreath that mom sent. She's the best.
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