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January 30, 2004 Mixed Nuts Classes started last week. Marie is very fond of commenting on how she's already taken the classes (I needed a refresher on Algebra II a while back to make up for my memory lapse since the misty days of high school), or will soon be taking the classes ("I take economics as a Senior!"), that I'm in. It amuses me greatly - I think it's a minor kind of competition going on, here. The, "Hey, you're fourteen years older than me but we're practically in the same grade," kind of thing. If we end up going to ASU at the same time (which is a distinct possibility, since it's taking me approximately four hundred years to get this degree over with), it should be very interesting. Fine by me, she can help me with my Calculus. And if my ineptitude serves to bolster her self-confidence, well, all the better. It's an interesting feeling to suspect that my daughter may soon be smarter than me. I shall be well cared for when I get old. Old-age security by successfully mentoring one's progeny is what it's all about, people. I had it planned all along. Anyway! School is about 20 minutes away from where I work, so I end up leaving at about 10:45 to make my 11:15 class. I've stocked up on a variety of CD's to entertain myself with - it's an indication of how close I live to my typical destinations that I rarely have to spend more than five minutes in the car, so I feel the need to be entertained for this oh-so-long drive. Recently, I rediscovered Robert Plant's "Manic Nirvana" CD. It's one of those rare CD's on which there exists not one song that I don't like. I hear a far-away voice on the telephone line Tell me what to think will tell apart Said how about 4,000 miles, and 21 years Do you think that's enough for a start? I'm up to fifteen thousand and holding Pass the time just smiling at you But this seat belt is kind of exposing Putting pressure on my big love for you My big love for you, my big love for you - my big, my big -- My big love for you, my big love for you - my big, my big -- Heh. He's such a naughty monkey. The parking lot is always an absolute zoo (and my Avalanche looks somewhat out of place among the bondo beasts and speakers on wheels), which shouldn't be surprising to me. The days I went to register were quiet, of course, as the winter semester was over with. But this is a fast-growing school with a shockingly large course catalogue for a community college. They really are vastly improving as an educational option, especially as they work very well in tandem with the state and privately funded universities. I'm on an engineering fast-track program which allows me to take my core curriculum at the community college, then transfer seamlessly into ASU to complete the classes for my major. I thought I had a vague understanding that going to school at this place was going to be somewhat different than where I used to take classes before I changed my major to a technical degree. It was an adult-oriented business college, specifically designed with working adults in mind. So I assumed a wider range of ages than what was present at my old school, some kids fresh out of high school mixed in with older college students and adults like me who were going back for their degrees. So you can imagine my... surprise? Discomfort? Amusement? When I discovered that, barring the instructor, I was the oldest student in the class (though given my winsome good looks - hah - I suspect that I was the only one who knew that). The rest were about 18-22ish - baseball-cap wearing, gum chewing, Ohmygawd-ing children. My very first thought was, "Marie would be a hell of a lot more comfortable in here than me." I mean, I'm sure that for the most part, they're all dedicated and serious students. Wise cracking, giggling, and note-passing, but dedicated. It was just... weird. Like I was transported back in time ten years. I feel like I'm in high-school again, except better equipped to deal with it. I don't consider myself to be that far removed from them. I'm not fuddy-duddyish, and have been deemed "tyte" by Marie's friends. High accolades, that. But it's down right surreal to go from the land of the grown-ups, where everyone is serious and deadlines are a way of life and meetings are (for the most part) productive - to the neighborhood of make-believe, where the children are fretting because they have homework every night and quizzes every three weeks, and the language of the day is straight from a Jay-Z album. Perhaps it will better define what I'm going through if I share this experience with you. We're writing stories about the funniest thing that has ever happened to us. The teacher was explaining that one of the students waxed a bit too philosophical in the first paragraph of his story, thereby providing the readers with "nothing gripping" to generate the desire to continue reading. This kid in the front row - who opens his mouth at LEAST a dozen times each class and spews forth the most idiotic crap - he, I shit you not, raised his hand and asked, "What's philosophical?" My Econ class instructor has been hinting at quite a bit of group work. This should prove to be interesting - I wonder how much of the work I'll deem necessary to take upon myself. And the quiz structure is downright odd - you take the quiz first on your own, and hand it in to the teacher. Then you get into small groups and all take the test again, together. The results of both tests are then averaged together, and that's your grade. We're learning about the Production Possibility Frontier! I know you're jealous. Mentally speaking, I'm in a much better place to be in college now than I was when I got out of high school. But culturally speaking - well, let's just say that I'm fully aware that I'd be completely lost if it weren't for Michael and Marie's influence. At least I can speak the language. Mostly. My back is so much better it's not to be believed. I had a therapist appointment last week, and it was the first time I've ever gone that her deep-tissue massage didn't make me shriek in pain. The pressure points that used to evoke images of hot pokers have mellowed to the point that the initial pain immediately dissipates into warmth. I was more relaxed in yesterday's session than I think I ever have been in my entire life. I even fell asleep at one point, just for mere seconds, and jolted awake when I heard my breath puff rather loudly out of my mouth. The therapist just chuckled and took it as a compliment. I came home in a high good mood, downright excited at how much better I was feeling. Calvin disbelieved my explanation for my good mood - choosing instead to believe I was gleeful about being surrounded by nineteen year old boys at school. Yeah, because they're so my type. Idiot. I posted this on the blog, but for those of you who don't read it (and why you wouldn't is a mystery to me), I created some blog stickers during about fifteen minutes of nerdy weakness. You can use 'em if you want. Or use someone else's by visiting Blog Stickers, or create your own by visiting The Blogsticker Factory. Plenty of opportunities for geekitude. I rather shamelessly edited some of my favorite movie lines for my own amusement. I've also created a page for them. What the world needs now, is stickers, Blog stickers. We took a road trip to Jerome last weekend. For no other reason than to avoid lolling around the house all day. Fear not, I was true to my nature and took a multitude of pointless pictures. The likes of which I now inflict upon you. In which we are leaving. Calvin is shown here modeling his "comfy road trip clothes". Loading up the truck. Gloomy day. I'm waiting for Calvin and Marie to finish packing the cooler, so I take a picture of one of the bushes in the front yard. The oh-so-not-pretty highway heading out of Phoenix. Said highway passes right by the airport. Proof of said airport. The smoggy gloomy city, with Bank One Ballpark in the shot. Blah! Highway! More! Of the Blah! Highway! Marie. Calvin and I were behaving in some annoying fashion at this moment. This is the face of her displeasure. Me! Love these sunglasses. And that's Calvin's sweater. Because it was cold. Low 60's when we left Phoenix, getting down into the 40's by the time we hit Jerome. My baby, singing along to the CD. Did you know? We have cacti in Arizona. A butte, over which cowboys could ride. You know, if this were a Western. A pond. Because we have water in the desert. Really. Flat, rather boring. Guess what this is? Exit 256! More of the gloomies. We start getting up into the "scenic highway" approaching Jerome. There's scenery over here... And scenery over there... Here a scenery... There a hawk, but he flew out of my sight as I tilted to take the picture. A slanted mountain shot is what you get. Did you know? We get snow in Arizona, too. More! Scenery! Marie, utterly enthralled by the plethora of scenery. Lookit the scenery! And lo, there was snow in the trees. Because did you know? We have skiing in Arizona. The town of Jerome. Built on a hill. Like San Francisco. Except, not. Jerome. Jerome some more. It took approximately three minutes to traverse all of Jerome's roads. 'Tis small. The highway on which we were Jerome-ing. Prescott is back that-a-way. This scary freaky road that we had to drive up in order to find parking. Not any grand hotel, but THE Grand Hotel in Jerome. It looks like a good place to have a western-themed wedding. The Jerome Palace, home of the Haunted Hamburger. So, of course we had to eat there. Inside the restaurant. I had a cheeseburger with grilled onions, and it was TO DIE FOR. No pun intended. A drink and a candle. The view from the restaurant. The very eeety beeety narrow streets, along which a multitude of shops exist. It must be a scary sight to see the place packed with tourists. Reminds me of Europe - or at least, the Europe I've seen in the movies. Calvin and Marie, walking back to the truck. This is a little bed and breakfast called The Surgeon's House. We discovered that it was for sale, and my mind immediately leapt to the "what if's". Such a cute little place!! I just love the arched windows. This gate, I discovered via their website, leads to several beautiful little gardens. I want a gate like this at my house, that leads to a garden. The broken out windows of an abandoned building. The moon and Venus, on the drive home. I need a new camera, I've outgrown the possibilities of the Mavica. Calvin, my birthday's in July. Comments on this entry? Head on over to Colloquial!

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