Bumbershoot

During the weekends, I like to listen to the news on the radio in the morning - specifically, Morning Edition Sunday. On Sundays, the local radio programming invites an English and linguistics professor from the University of Michigan to talk about words. I like this bit, because I always learn little fun facts about language. This morning, however, they were talking about a word that I was very familiar with, "bumbershoot." Apparently, they took an informal poll (of course, of Michiganders) and no one knew what this word was. Most folks in the NW do know what this word is, and that is in part due to the music festival in Seattle named after it.

The Bumbershoot Music Festival is a large event that takes place every Labor Day weekend. When I first moved to Seattle, I couldn't wait to attend. And I went almost every year for 5 years - until I moved away, and then when I moved back I just couldn't take the crowds anymore. It's a great event, though. I saw some really great musical acts, art work, short films, you name it. Let me take you back to 1997, and here are some of the acts I saw: Beck, Sonic Youth, Kristin Hersh, Pond (my favorite Portland band), Sleater-Kinney, Sky Cries Mary, Cake (apparently they are still going the distance and are at the 2015 festival), Zap Mama, and many more. I went to see some writers too: Michael Ondaatje, Robert Pinsky, and John Haines.

The Beautiful Game

Alex Morgan scoring - photo Todd Korol

I've been watching the Women's World Cup all weekend, and last night watched the US team win over Colombia. It wasn't the most beautiful win, but as the head coach of the US team said, "I'll take a 2-nil win any day."

I love soccer. To me, it is the ultimate sport, the best of athleticism, the most beautiful game. I grew up playing soccer (futbol!) and so my love of the sport is deeply embedded in me. I remember being about 10 years old, after a few years playing rec-soccer (Yes, I started playing at a very young age), try-outs for what was called "Classics" happened and I made the team. What that meant is that soccer became my life. It became a year-round sport that I continued to play almost every season with the same young women until I was 17 years old and played varsity in high school. I was always number 2. And I always played left midfield. Which meant that the team I grew up playing on almost always played a 4-4-2. As an outside midfield I was both offensive and defensive, and ran the length of the field usually for the full 90 minutes. The strategies and geometry of soccer is the lens through which I see all other sports. How people move on the field, how they close in for certain defensive plays, and spread the field to make plays. If I could handle a frisbee better I'd be a great ultimate frisbee player simply because I understand the field. What can I say, I learned to play a sport with my feet! So it is simply lovely and inspiring to watch the Women's World Cup. Women don't get much love for playing this sport, but they have a big hearted fan in me.

Oh how I love this game. The most beautiful game.

Some photos of me growing up playing the beautiful game

Bicycle Blalock

Every Father's Day I call my dad and wish him a happy day, and then we chat for a little while. This year, I'm not quite sure how to carry on this tradition because he's been riding his bike across the country. The time difference between us makes it hard for one thing, because he could either be sleeping if I call early or preparing for his day of riding. If I call in the afternoon, he'll likely be on his bike. And then in the evening, he may be busy setting up camp with the group he's riding with or may not have cell service because I think he's somewhere in Colorado. I've mentioned elsewhere on my blog the reasons I ride my bike. That I was raised by a dad who rode his bike everywhere, so I thought that's what I was supposed to do. Needless to say, I am very thankful for this because it's so much more enjoyable than driving. And I loves me a good country drive. Here in Lansing, it's so easy to get to and fro because it's so freakin' flat. And where I need to go on my bike is never more than a few miles. Tiny City Life!

Anyway, I don't need to say how proud I am of my dad for taking this trip to ride his bike across the country. I've met many people who claim that being outdoors really nourishes them, or that it's being outside that really gives them life. My dad is this sentiment to the max. He truly loves being outdoors, it really does give him life, and it nourishes him. It is a part of who he is and the depth of his spirit. He passed this trait down to me, the love of the outdoors (although I don't have it quite to his extent). He was the first person I ever went on a multi-day backpacking trip with. He and I used to hike almost every weekend when I was in high school (and I still chuckle about our drive to the hiking trail in the Columbia River Gorge because every time - and I mean EVERY TIME he would nurse a can of diet Pepsi on the drive out, and EVERY TIME spill it in the car). My dad and I share an affinity for the outdoors, and it is this trait that I'm so thankful he passed down to me.

Here's my dad's bike and trailer on his ride, in the Ozark National Scenic Riverways

Going Sexy for the PhD

At least I'm a little more high-tech than this.

I've turned in 3 of the 5 assignments for my qualitative methods class, the latest one a transcript from an interview I did. I actually did two interviews, because in my effort to find someone to interview who was in my interest area, I accidentally found two. Even though this created more work for me, on a personal level it was extremely valuable. I spoke with two women who work in the office of Faculty and Organizational Development here at MSU. First, I should note that even though I often dreaded some of my jobs in Seattle, what they did help me learn to do well and without fear was reach out to people I did not know, make an introduction, and ask to meet. So much of my role in the nonprofit world in my previous life was all about community building, so I don't shy away from this task much anymore. Particularly here at MSU, I've already met so many people who I will continue to keep in touch with and I know who can support me with my work in the HALE program. Anyway, the two interviews I did for my class served two purposes, 1) to fulfill an assignment for a class and more importantly, 2) to meet new people who do work that I am interested in the subject matter I am interested in (that would be faculty development in higher education, and how practitioner-faculty teach).

So, back to my assignment. I had two hours of interviews that I  could transcribe. For my assignment I only needed to transcribe 30 minutes, but because I wanted all of it I needed to find a way to quickly transcribe. I also had about 12 hours to do this because I wasn't able to schedule my interviews until the day before my assignment was due. As I rode my bike home the day of the interviews, I had a stroke of genius. There is a tool on my Mac that takes spoken words and transcribes them. I've used it in the past when I have long quotes I want to add into papers, and it's faster to read it into my computer (and more accurate) than typing it out. I thought, "That's perfect! I'll just play the interviews into my computer and Voila!! Transcribed!"

Unfortunately, this is how it transcribed some of my interview:
Going to sexy so that goes from on 21st Dr. Push your milestones along the way articulate research university that include the ranks from assistant professor since successful but also a variation in their responsibilities so that a research university the primary mission*education teaching research and something was a service but because were laying quietly also the average age

So... that didn't work. I went back to using a tool that uses my tab key as a pause button and transcribing from there. *Sigh, I guess no laying quietly while transcribing. And at least I'm a pretty fast touch typer.

Quick Weekend Away

Our favorite neighbors moved to Grand Rapids about a month ago, and we went to visit them this past weekend. Grand Rapids (or as we like to say "GD Rapids") is a little more than an hour away. I've been there a couple of times, last year when I first moved here I went for the day to explore. Then Kevin and I went back, during a visit to Meijer Gardens. It's a nice little city, albeit it does remind me a lot of Portland, OR. I'm not sure how I feel about this reminder. ANYway, we had a great time visiting with our friends. Saturday night we had dinner, played games (Euchre!), pinball included, and walked around GD Rapids. Then on Sunday we went to Grand Haven and walked the pier. It was a really foggy day, but still hot and sticky.

Adult Brain Child Brain

There aren't a lot of summer classes that are actually in a classroom in the College of Education. Most of the summer courses are online. However, there is a class that meets just before mine and quite often there are some very interesting things left on the dry-erase boards. The other day, I couldn't help myself and had to take a picture. I can guess that the class before mine has something to do with child development, learning, something something something. I admit, I was impressed by the sketches and the layout of these pictures. I wondered if maybe there might be some picture I could create that would help me better understand my own brain on study, particularly the division I feel inside my own head when it comes to qualitative methods. I'll have to work on that sketch...

Field Notes on Public Ambiguity

"The difference between doing fieldwork and just "hanging out" is the writing. Without writing, the sharp, incisive details about people, places and cultures are lost to us." - Sunstein and Chiseri-Strater, 2002, p. 56

I am tempted to start collecting vintage field note-books

For my qualitative class I have several assignments I need to turn in, one of which is a write-up of an observation I did. My professor for the class is an ethnographer, and stresses the importance of observing and taking notes, and more precisely, how to take notes. Not being familiar with ethnography myself, I find this whole process captivating. My tendency to add flourishes to my descriptive writing is not really welcome in some stages of my observation notes. Here is where the descriptive becomes somewhat dry and analytical. This is also one of the more objective moments of qualitative research, where writing down "his mouth turned down and his eyes became wet" is preferred to "he was crying." Once I have all of these descriptive parts down, then I can go back in and ask questions about my observation - scribbles called memos can address, "I think he was crying, why?" then look more closely at my field notes to gather more evidence of what was going on.

I wish I could express how fascinating I find this whole process. It is completely outside of my realm of experience, and sometimes comfort. In the last 7 years or so, I have become much more analytical and I don't have the same temperament I once did for what I refer to as "public ambiguity." I am fine with my personal ambiguity - of having internal questions and privately working through things that may not make sense. Qualitative research makes those parts of my life much more public and it's quite hard for me. I have to document this ambiguity instead of just sitting quietly and privately with myself. I have to then interact with this ambiguity in front of others, then re-write about it. The integration of my system of beliefs upon the subject matter that I am studying is both a welcome practice and also absolutely unnerving. However the difficulty I have doing this type of research is what makes me want to do it even more, to understand interpretations of culture and to learn the difference between a twitch and a wink (Geertz, 1973).

- And yes, I did put a citation into my blog post. I know it makes it "academic" but I had to. Forgive me.

Kicks

My new kicks found color inspiration from
the Golden Girls' home in Miami

I decided over the weekend to pay a visit to an athletic store and buy some new jogging shoes. I have a certain way that I buy jogging shoes. It consists of me brining in my current pair, showing them to the salesperson and asking, "Can you please bring me the newest version of this shoe?" I found the perfect shoe for me about 8 years ago, and since then I have purchased several pairs in exactly the same way (bringing in the old pair and asking for the new version). One year, I thought I would mix things up and try a different shoe. That was a terrible idea. After having the new shoe for about three weeks and trying a few different jogs, I had to return them. Thankfully, folks who sell running shoes know that it takes time to figure out if something is going to fit, so the store took them back. I returned them with my old pair and said, "Just give me the new version of this" and was once again, happy as a clam. So yesterday I went for a little jog to try out my new shoes and, of course, they were perfect. Why change something that works?

Notebook Gems

Last month, when I went to Chicago to visit some old friends, I may have mentioned that one of them has two kids, two little girls to be specific. The oldest is about two years old, and really just wanted to play with me the entire time I was visiting with her parents. I indulged her at some points during my dinner visit, but not completely. She did, however, find my small canvas bag that I used to carry my summer class readings and other work. Once she found this bag, she took out one of my notebooks and then without me knowing proceeded to draw and color inside of it. Fortunately, this was a newish notebook, one I was going to use for a project I am working on this summer. I say fortunately because she had many many blank pages to add her little flourishes to. No one realized until the middle of dinner that she had been scribbling away and putting stickers inside my notebook, and once we did I found it so humorous that I insisted she continue her work. I also imagined me taking notes inside of this notebook and, possibly, during a meeting with faculty or whatever, me flipping open to a new page and revealing that the page was full of stickers. I'll add here that I decided to use this notebook instead for a class, and not for a public project. I can also guess that as I fill this notebook up, the little gems of stickers and color crayon drawings will delight me every time I stumble upon a page filled with them. Like the delight I had this morning when I found all of these panda stickers.

Impulsive Dolphin

If you can believe it, I started jogging again. I haven't been a jogger since I was, well, I don't really remember. Maybe high school? There were a few times in college I would go. But not really like I am now. I've gone for a run almost every day for the last 6 weeks. It's weird. Something just kind of took hold of me and I started running. Of course, this was not without a slow build up, but now I can run a few miles and still feel great. It all started when I downloaded a little app* on my phone to keep track of how much I move. I always thought people with step counters were kind of weird, but, well, I guess I'm one of those people now. It basically comes down to this: my app gives me a step goal every day and when I reach that goal it gives me a digital confetti parade. I LIVE for this confetti parade. The app also gives me little encouraging messages throughout the day. So, basically, it gives me two things that grad school never will - it helps me get outside with warm encouraging messages, and gives me a confetti parade. After a couple of weeks, I figured I might as well start running for reals.

So, with this momentum, I decided to put an end goal on it. That's right, half-marathon end goal. I'm blogging about this because if I don't do it, then I'll have to blog about not doing it. And if I DO run a half-marathon, then I can blog about that. And we all know which one I'd rather blog about. The race is pretty far away (October) but I think I can continue with this routine of running. Now is the perfect time of year, considering the weather is awesome and I am not completely swamped with school. I also know a couple of people in my cohort who are also runners (one who said he would be doing the full marathon in October, so we can encourage one another) so it will be helpful when I don't think I have time to jog to lean on them for motivation. There you have it. My short little legs are running at least 5 times a week. Weird.

*The app is called Breeze. It also gives you a spirit animal! I am an Impulsive Dolphin.

I couldn't help but include these motivational running quotes.
They don't help me. Only my confetti parade works.

Small Town Wildlife

Little tired bird tucked his head
in, then eventually fluttered into
a nearby tree.

I've been enjoying spending more and more time outside. I tend to forget that I like being outside when so much of my time is spent indoors staring at a book or a computer. Although I still feel slightly stressed out (because I just wouldn't be me if I didn't feel this way, just a little) I am also feeling the benefits of spending time away from work and school. I'm trying to get into the routine of being outside, and taking time apart for myself this summer in hopes that it will stick once things get roaring again in September.

Yesterday we went for an afternoon nature walk (I call our park walks nature walks because they aren't really long enough to be hikes, and walks for me are more like "on a sidewalk"). Anyway, we went to a local park with some grassy paths and listened to birds and looked at the plants. And pointed out all of the poison ivy. As we were returning to the car, I happened to look down on the gravel/grass path and jumped up, grabbed Kevin's arm and backed us away all the while saying "baby bird, oh, oh oh." A small fluffy young bird was sitting in the middle of the path. We looked at it for a while, he winked and closed his eyes, then tucked his head into his shoulders. We walked around looking for a nest, thinking maybe he fell out or took to flying too soon, because he was still a little downy. Finally, we decided to try and put him off to the side, at least closer to the tall grass away from the main path so he wouldn't get trampled. And just as Kevin began to gently nudge him with the palm of his hands, the little bird finally fluttered up to a low branch. Relieved, we walked back to the car.