One of my very few readers has politely requested that I blog more about what I'm learning in school. This is a great idea, one which I will try to implement. No promises, though. I am taking 18 credits this quarter (and doing 20 credits worth of work--more on that later). And, as if I didn't have enough to do, I just started working for a local purveyor of legal highs.
This past week my program took a field trip out to Washington's Long Beach Peninsula to do town studies in the area. On Wednesday we had a little free time to do whatever we wanted. I headed up to Leadbetter Point State Park at the Northern most tip of the peninsula with a few of my class mates for some beach walking. 
At the trail head we ran into this sign:
Along the trail that leads to the beach we were treated to a glorious display of fungus, the likes of which I have never seen. Thankfully, I had thought to bring my camera. 
After a 2 mile walk we finally arrived out of the forest and grasslands on to the beach.
Snowy Plovers use much of the beach area, even this late in the year, and are the reason that the beach is closed to dogs and vehicles.
During our walk we came across a lot of garbage that had washed up on shore from passing ships. 
We also found this milk crate which we used to collect the garbage. We took it as a sign to do our Greener best to leave the beach better than we found it.
I may be joining this discussion a little late but...
I have read and re-read both the original article and the subsequent blog post and comments and I have a few things that I'd like to point out, Ms. Mitchell.
I too can look at the drawing on the Starbuck's board and acknowledge that it has the potential to be offensive to some and not to others. I also recognize that we are far from completely obliterating racism and bigotry in our country. However, despite the claim you make in your article that your purpose is "confronting insensitivity to stop it," there are several times when your own insensitivity is grossly displayed.
First, your quest to identify the artist appears to exclude the possibility that the artist may, in fact, have been an African American. Though you don't say it outright, your scavenger hunt to eradicate this display of insensitivity seems to be founded on the premise that the artist is white. I can only assume that you reached this conclusion because the artwork in question appeared in a Starbucks. What does this say about your own prejudices?
You acknowledge in your article "that public art is interpreted through the cultural lens of the beholder" and never once stop to consider that perhaps your lens might be set to hyper-sensitive.
You again wantonly wield your own insensitivity in your description of "Starbucks' front-line staffers -- who assemble specialty lattes as if they're creating a culinary art form." This statement reveals your prejudice that Starbuck's employees are nothing more than assembly line workers with pretensions. Furthermore, it never enters into your mind that anyone with this type of job could possibly take pride in their work, their product, or their company.
However, these are minor offenses when compared with the way in which you chose to handle this matter from the outset. You don't reveal, until the very end of your article, the identity of the person who gave you the picture in the first place. I can only assume this was to lend to the sense of mystery, the feeling of being on a scavenger hunt. Instead it seems more like a witch-hunt when one realizes that all you really needed to do was ask your source to identify which Starbuck's had the artwork. At that point you could have called or gone into that store alone to speak to the manager about the potential for offense and the necessity of sensitivity. Instead you proceeded to march yourself into every Starbuck's location in the immediate vicinity. I'm not sure what this accomplished aside from increasing your ire over the piece of work, as well as deliberately and erroneously implying to your readers that there was some big mystery to be solved.
You have completely overblown this situation. As a journalist you have a responsibility to carry out your investigations, even those that concern racism and bigotry, with the utmost of integrity. You say in your article that "evidence of our insensitivity to each other's context is inevitable. But we have a choice: We can confront the offense with anger or we can experience these awkward encounters as teachable moments." If your goal truly was to "confront insensitivity to stop it," you failed miserably. You stomped off on a crusade without first doing any of the research that is normally associated with quality journalism and then, despite the fact that the offending artwork had been removed and the manager apologetically explained that no offense had been intended, you still proceeded to write a highly inflammatory article regarding your personal crusade. In sum, you let your indignation and anger cloud your judgment and lost any opportunity for a "teachable moment".
No, your goal was not merely to confront and stop insensitivity. It seems much more likely that your goal was to publicly denounce an entire company and it's workers as insensitive without first stopping to consider your own insensitivity.
I made dinner tonight just as I do most nights of the week. And just as I do most nights of the week I created a meal without following any recipe. Rather, I threw into my concoction what looked right and smelled good--a technique I learned from my mother a long time ago. Back then I complained, "How am I ever going to learn how to cook if you don't write anything down or measure ingredients?!"
Despite my complaints, I learned how to cook quite well. Now it's my husband who has taken up my old query. Frustrated that I put together meals that he can't recreate because I don't use recipes, Jim has helpfully suggested that I make a recipe file on my blog. So, here it goes...
Tonight's meal was chicken fajitas--a pretty easy undertaking for just about anyone especially with the myriad seasoning mixes to be had at the grocery store. However, I discovered the last time I tried to use packaged seasoning that I didn't much care for it, so tonight I improvised. Using the standard chicken, onions, and bell peppers I made the dish my own by substituting cayenne pepper, garlic, black pepper, and soy sauce for the yucky fajita seasoning packet. Here's my best approximation of the recipe:
1/2 pound boneless skinless chicken breasts
1/2 large sweet onion, sliced
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/8 tsp black pepper
2 Tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
1 Tbsp olive oil (or your preferred vegetable oil)
Flour Tortillas
Place olive in large skillet or non-stick pan over medium heat. Slice chicken breasts into thin strips approximately 1-1.5 inches in length. Place chicken breast strips in pan and add cayenne, garlic, and black pepper, mixing to season evenly. Cook chicken until done and remove from pan placing on plate covered in paper towels to drain excess oil.
Return pan to medium heat and add onions. Cook onions for 1 minute before adding red peppers. Cook for an additional 1 to 2 minutes and add 1 Tbsp soy sauce. Cook for 2 to 3 more minutes. Add chicken and remaining soy sauce to vegetable mixture and cook until vegetables are done. The onions should be completely grilled while the peppers remain just a bit crisp.
Warm tortillas for 10 seconds in the microwave and fill to your heart's content. Fajitas make a great light meal on their own or can be pared with beans (tonight I used white beans, other times I use black), rice, or any of your own favorite side dishes.
Over two years ago I was temporarily laid-off from my job at a local floral greens distributor. Much like any other person who had spent the last 9 years of their life working full-time, I filed an unemployment claim and followed the standard Employment Security protocol of applying for other jobs. Simple.
Somewhere along the way this process became much more complicated than I had initially anticipated. Paperwork that I had filed with Employment Security was lost, my worked hours were miscalculated, and another person's Statement of Wages and Hours was sent to my home (with all of their personal information--fortunately, I'm no identity thief). All the while I tried to maintain the utmost of patience, working with State of Washington Department of Employment Security to provide the lost paperwork, correct the miscalculations, and inform them of their grievous mailing mistake. Eventually, my claim was denied because as a "full time student the Department finds that you are unavailable to actively seek employment."
In the meantime, despite the Department's confidence in my inability to secure employment, I managed to do just that. And then I filed an appeal, informing them that I was not only available to actively seek employment, but that I had found said employment. I also took the time to remind the Department of Employment Security of the many ways in which my claim had been mishandled, offering names, dates, and forms filed as evidence (my mother would be so proud). Satisfied that I had made my case, I went about doing my new job schlepping handbags and awaited the compensation I was due.
My claim was denied again. This time because I "did not work 680 hours during" my base year. Overwhelmed by frustration at the thought that I would once again have to submit all of my pay stubs proving I had indeed exceeded 680 hours, I gave up.
You might wonder what all this preamble is leading up to...
Today, August 31st 2007, I received a letter from The Washington State Employment Security Department informing me that my claim from July 10, 2005 was DENIED. That's right folks: over two years later and with absolutely no prompting from myself, Employment Security sent me another Statement of Wages and Hours to inform me that my long forgotten, hopeless, incompetently handled claim, is still denied.
Evidently, parking fees were all that was holding the system together. God help the system.
Today my parents in-law celebrate 32 years of laughter, tears, bocce, dominoes, tent-trailer camping, road trips, and sheer craziness. That is, 32 years of marriage. Congrats, Mom and Dad. We love you!
My husband has been after me to update my blog which is suffering a new post drought thanks to my recent return to the real world. What he really wants is for me to recount my time in Spain in full, no easy task.
You see, despite my smiling face in many of my photos, my two and a half months in Spain were not the mostly-easy adventure I had been anticipating. In fact, just about everything about my study abroad experience in Spain was surprising, often rather unpleasantly so.
Rather than rehash all of the dirty [and believe me they are] details of my ten weeks in Spain, I though I'd just share a few of the things I learned while I was there.
1) If your flight is longer than 6 hours, pay the extra money and fly business class. You'll regret it if you don't.
2) No matter how you say it--two and a half months, ten weeks, 71 days--it's still a long, long time to be away from home, especially if you're married.
3) There is absolutely no way to pack light for ten weeks away from home.
4) However much you pack (90 pounds or 900) you will never have everything you want from home, never mind the things you need.
5) Roommates are best when they're heavily screened for undesirable behaviors such as filthiness, thievery, and general lack of consideration for others.
6) Despite what everyone in Spain may tell you to the contrary, ham is NOT the perfect accompaniment to every meal.
7) Coffee, wine, beer, and food all taste better when you can eat them at a table outside in the sunshine. Especially if the street has been closed to automobile traffic to make way for said table.
8) Life without a car is possible. Enjoyable even.
All joking aside, the ten weeks I spent living in Úbeda were, at times, nightmarish. I had to deal with things I never imagined possible. Granted, most of the problems I encountered had to do with my fellow classmates and not with Abadat Escuela or the city of Úbeda and its inhabitants, but there were problems nonetheless and they served to make my stay in Spain [during the first five weeks] very nearly unbearable.
Imagine my surprise, then, when upon driving out of the city for the last time (very fittingly to the musical accompaniment of "It ain't over 'til it's over") I found that I was sad to go. Overcoming homesickness and horrid roommates, I was shocked to discover that I was coming away with a few more good friends and lots of experiences to laugh about in the years to come. More than anything, I realized that despite the drama and frustration and bad food, this small Spanish city had managed to steal a place in my heart.
Three years ago today I stood in a backyard garden and said "I do" to my best friend, soul mate, and the man of my dreams. I love you, Jim. Happy Anniversary.
On Saturday June 2nd we took the final excursion scheduled for our cultural immersion program at Abadat. Our field trip took us to Granada, one of the most historically important cities in all of Spain and perhaps even Europe. 
A view of Granada's old city wall from the barrio of Albaicin.
So this one is kind of out of order. Friday I had tickets to see the Czech National Orchestra with another girl from my class, but alas, it was not to be. The concert was canceled and we went out to dinner instead.
A view of the Alhambra from Albaicin.
Some pretty flowers on the walk up to the Alhambra.
One of many towers, as seen from outside the Alhambra wall.
A latern inside the Carmen of the University of Granada. It's hanging from the largest wisteria arbor I've ever seen.
Another view of the Alhambra, this time from the U of Granada's Carmen in the barrio of Albaicin.
Some cool arches in the Generalife, the summer palace alongside the Alhambra. The Generalife was built as a summer palace because although it sits alongside the Alhambra--on a hill overlooking the city of Granada--it is located in the convection zone. As a result, in the summer the average temperature is between 5º-10ºF cooler than that of the Alhambra and there is a constant, pleasant breeze, a definite necessity in the days long before air conditioning.
If there's one thing the Spanish love more than ham and mullets it has got to be arches. These are inside the Generalife and overlook the city. What a view.
One of the many gardens at the Generalife.
Outside the Palace of the Generalife.
The reflecting pool at the Carmen.
Outside the principal salon of the Alhambra. Inside this salon Spanish history was written thrice over.
This is the location where Boabdil, the last Caliph of Islamic Spain, signed the Capitulation, thus ending the 700+ years of Islamic rule in Al-Andalus and placing Spain and the Alhambra in the hands of the Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabel.
In this same salon Columbus petitioned the queen and king for permission, and money, to find the new passage to India. Permission was granted, but instead of finding India he got a little lost and made his way to the Caribbean.
Finally, this is the place where Isabel and Ferdinand signed the order expelling all of the Jews from Spain after the completion of the Reconquest.
A ceiling inside a salon of the Alhambra. All of the ceilings are made from hand-carved wood and adorned with ornate designs.
A wall inside the Alhambra. The lower portion of each wall is covered with hand painted ceramic tiles above which are verses, in Arabic, from the Quran [or Koran, if you prefer].
One of the smaller palaces of the Alhambra. This one was the private residence of the Sultan or Caliph and his harem. The harem consisted of the four "official" wives of the Caliph [one for each cardinal point on the compass], their children, and the parents, grandparents, and sometimes siblings, of the Caliph.
Another of the many gorgeous gardens of the Alhambra.
I spent last weekend with a couple of girls from my program and some local friends in the pueblo of Almuñecar on the Mediterranean. We stayed in a beach house about 100 meters from the ocean--it was wonderful. 
We spent a few hours lying on this beach, soaking up the rays before heading out to have some lunch at one of the local dives.
The ruins of a Roman fish-salting plant. If there´s one thing the Spanish love almost as much as ham, it's salty, salty fish.
An unholy combination of the two most popular Spanish past-times: ham and mullets. It´s a little hard to tell, but our friend the mounted pig is wearing a green Christmas garland mullet. Ahhh, Spain.
A view of one of the many beaches in Almuñecar.
Sunset on the Mediterranean.
The street by the beach house.
More of the sunset...what a spectacular sight.
On our way home we met a friendly, if slightly creepy, clown at the local Mickey-D's. After 8 weeks in Spain, McDonald's is culinary perfection for homesick Americans.
The view from the mountain* in Almuñecar.
[*Really just a big rocky hill that jutted out into the ocean, but in Spain...] 
The Mediterranean was as turquoise and clear as I had imagined, and much more vast than maps and globes imply.
Another view from the mountain.
Our sun-bathing beach, as seen from above.
Jim came out to Spain on May 10th for an all too brief visit. The pictures below are from the tours of Úbeda and the neighboring cities of Baeza and Jaén. We had a great time riding the bus and seeing the sights.
A view of the olive groves in Úbeda.
Úbeda´s sister city, Baeza.
Um, Jim took this and I´m not really sure what it is.
Fountain in la Plaza de la Constitución in Jaén.
Ruins of an old church in Úbeda.
Church tower in Baeza.
The Cathedral of Baeza, a mish-mash of Gothic and Renaissance styles of architecture--not that impressive as cathedrals go, according to one of my professors.
On the left, the rear wall of the Cathedral of Baeza. On the right, the wall of the Judería (where the Spanish Jews lived, secluded from the rest of society, after the reconquest). Above, the "road" by which the Jews communicated with the outside world.
Inside the Cathedral of Jaén. One of the most impressive examples of a Renaissance-style cathedral in all of Europe. 
A walk about in Jaén during the mediodía (the lunch hour, which is only referred to as siesta if you plan on taking a nap).
The Castle of Santa Catalina in Jaén. Perched on top of a foothill of the Sierra Máginas, it was too far to walk and we didn´t have a car, so this photo is as close as we got.
In front of the Cathedral of Jaén. Just as impressive from the outside, it literally dominates the landscape.
Jim just wanted a picture of the Burguer Queen. They serve hamburgers, but they´re really ham and not beef. Crazy Spaniards.
Tower on Hospital de Santiago. The tower roof is covered in hand-made ceramic tiles. I learned after Jim left that both towers of the Hospital were struck by lightning at different times and completely destroyed. This tower is a 1978 reproduction of the original.
The church at Hospital Santiago. The Hospital and church were both contructed by Francisco de los Cobos, son of the Bishop Diego de los Cobos, and a bishop himself as a demonstration of the superiority of his generosity and wealth to those of his father.
View of Hospital de Santiago from the gardens.
More pictures inside the Cathedral of Jaén.
And again.
Self-portrait near the old wall of Úbeda with a view of the olive groves and Sierra Máginas behind us.
Jim, in front of the Palacio Vazquez de Molina in Plaza Vazquez de Molina in the monument zone of Úbeda.
Tree-lined street of Úbeda.
View from the interior patio at Hospital de Santiago.
The patio at the, aptly named, Puerta de Granada, which is a bar located at the old Puerta de Granada in the old muralla (city wall) of Úbeda. The door (puerta) in the wall is named such because it faces the city of Granada and once was the end of the highway between Granada and Úbeda.
