mani-pedi

Just back from having all nails done with Val and Ellen in advance of Val's wedding reception on Friday evening. I will miss the party but at least they didn't evict me from the prep evening. It was lovely -although the pedicures here are never the fantastic experience they are in Russia where they literally reduce your feet to babylike softness - a process which takes an hour of serious filing and abrasion punctuated by lovely cups of tea and big chocolates. My feet aren't for the faint of heart, and it is always reassuring to have them gone after with the fortitude unique to Russians in the beauty trade. Two summers ago I got a pedicure there and, no joke, the polish lasted for weeks without a single nick or chip. Last time it was November and I did briefly wonder what you do when it really isn't flip flop weather and you have to leave the salon and keep your lovely new toes safe while they harden. Who knew, you put them in plastic bags and then into your winter boots. Genius.

poetic justice

person who quit in fit of pique last week and has threatened to sue us turns out to be dependent on the job she quit for her visa status. if we had fired her, we would have been liable for funding her trip to the homeland. she quits and she is on her own. Of course all of this quitting on her part will now entail lots of document gathering and meetings with university lawyers which is a pain.

Work updates

Must blog about work since there have been some choice events:
1) Instructor for one of the intensive summer language classes we are offering quit last week mid morning. Why? Because she learned she hadn't gotten the full time job for next year. Why did we select someone else? Because we had found her to be "not a team player" and somewhat "unstable". Hmmmmm. guess we called it.
2) Sent 4 ROTC students off to Russia last week on the grant we have. Got long worried email from Washington host organization because one of them spent the whole orientation trying to find out how he could buy a gun in Russia and carry it as a concealed weapon. Yes, we grow 'em smart in the great state of Utah. Had long chat with his commanding officer who promises to call the student and talk some sense into him.
3) Spoke to VP for faculty about senior colleague who refuses to teach a required course for the department next year. Problem faculty member in the discussions noted that among other things, s/he hasn't taught one of those "baby courses" for years. Well alright then.
4) Have added to my email folders one titled "problem faculty" to file correspondence from 3 and other issues like it.
5) And my absolute favorite -- the joy of securing visas to travel to Russia.
As some of you know, we are launching a study abroad program (for my sins) and so I have been embroiled in the minutiae of getting this up and running. We have a study abroad office with terrific staff but Russia is just 'special'... First had to have the host university secure the invitation letters from migration services. Have had lots of correspondence with 'Valery' who seems delightful and has very good English. My favorite communique from him was the one triumphantly announcing that the invitations had been picked up and sent to us via DHL, that is, all but one. His comment on this was, and I quote: "To you this must seem unacceptable; for us it is normal." He assured me that we would have the straggler a couple of days after the others. Which we did. Which seemed promising. However, it did mean that the packets to the Russian consulate in San Francisco for the visas themselves went out in two batches. The big batch arrived on a Friday; the stray on the Monday. Tuesday I get a call from "Inna" at the consulate telling me that the payment for the Monday visa was not acceptable. "We take money order" were her words. allow me to reconstruct the conversation:

"We take money order."
"I sent a cashiers check; that is just like a money order."
'Not acceptable. We take money order."
"Well, on your web site, which I am looking at right now, it says 'cashiers check or money order'"
"I don't know about that. This check that you send is no good."

"Um, well, what about the applications you received on Friday? They had the same kind of check. Is there a problem with them too?"
"You would have heard from us if there is problem."
"But it was exactly the same kind of cashiers check."
"If we didn't call you, there is no problem."
"Can you check on those applications to be sure?"
"Give me date of birth or passport number."
"Well, I have their names."
"We can't look it up by name."

"OK, so why is there a problem with the same kind of check today?"
"I don't know. Financial department say it is no good."
"Can I talk to someone in the financial department?"
"They don't speak English."
"That's OK, I speak Russian."

Sounds of Inna walking across the room and then switching from English to Russian....

Apparently the people who work in financial department on Friday can recognize a cashiers check, but on Tuesday, all bets are off. I know this little interlude was just to warm me up for the upcoming trip though so I embraced it with my inner Slav:)

The really good news is the student who as he was filling out the visa application form turned to me and said: "Do you think it will be a problem that I was deported from Russia in 2004?" got his visa. So I guess that was my karmic piece.

Weekend

Cool paper mache figure and Craig and his band rocking out at the Riverton Arts Festival on Saturday.

malls

Dropped Catherine and two friends at the mall this evening and actually went in when it was time to pick them up. It is amazing how timeless those places are. I watched these knots of teenage girls roaming about and was cast back to me and Jeanne going on the bus to Santa Anita Fashion Place in the late seventies with $20 each burning a hole in our pockets. We bought matching ditto jeans and t-shirts. The dominant color - brown. Thank god there is no photographic evidence.

garden design

This is the view looking out the new window. New window was essential after Sam broke the old one with a boomerang. Anyway, since the window is now nice, the view out of it became all the more important. Previously, you looked out on a sea of weeds and the various bits of sprinkler system that Craig is always fixing. Last fall we planted the tree - a columnar pear that blossoms beautifully in spring. Last weekend Sam, Craig and I got rid of all the weeds, Craig finished fixing and reburying all sprinkler controls, and we cleared out the scrap wood that someone once thought a good idea to create borders. Then Sam and I built the two paths which, once we run the drip lines this weekend, we will finish filling with gravel. Then we will fill it out with plants and ground cover.

Why my ex is ex

It is probably way unkosher to write about one's ex and how relieved one is that one's ex is one's ex, but since this is for the discerning and carefully chosen reader only...
This afternoon we met at the post office to renew the children's passports. Both parents and the children have to be physically present and we had divided up preparation tasks. He was to download and fill out forms and I to bring relevant documents and pictures. Catherine was horrified that she was required to come - she finds being anywhere in public with her dad a trial. Being with me is only marginally more acceptable. As we waited, he was finishing the forms (mild irritation: "why aren't they done?"). Whoops, he exclaimed "I wrote in Catherine's frequent flyer number instead of her SSN." Sam observed that there was white out on the desk. Dad looks over and does not see it, because it comes in a form that he hasn't (or purports not to have) seen before. It was one of the pen types. Catherine rolled her eyes at his backwardness. Dad made the change. He asked me to look the forms over and I pointed out that on hers he had written the birthdate as day-month rather than month-day. Back to the white out. C has retreated to a chair in the corner with her ipod and phone. God only knows what she is texting about this whole scene. I can feel myself spacing out - "get me out of here is screaming through my head." He jokingly says to her "May 14th right?" I think that he is trying to joke with her about the time two years ago when he was absolutely certain that this was her birthdate. Huge residual rush of irritation. I mean who misremembers their own child's birthdate? He finishes with the forms and asks me again to look them over. He has written her birthdate as May 14th and once again in the day month order. (irritation approaching warp factor). Back to the white out. By this point the pen version won't work so the guy behind the counter gives us the old fashioned kind. Dad adds more to the now hugely raised area and waits for it to dry. He suggests I sign the forms. Have to point out that it says in bold print: DO NOT SIGN UNTIL IN THE PRESENCE OF THE CLERK WHO WILL ASK YOU TO SWEAR TO THE ACCURACY OF THE INFORMATION (or some such). Of course he has already signed... (more irritation). Finally it is our turn. Globs of white out have finally dried and he starts to write in the birthdate, once again beginning with the day. I can't help myself and squawk in frustration "not the day first again." I sound like some shrewish, overbearing nag. The whole process takes quite a long time as the clerk is one of those functionairies who doesn't have much of a sense of humor but tries the occasional joke. I can feel my stress level rising as the interaction between these two males lurches along. Comes time to pay and the clerk lists our options: cash, check, debit card, credit card - although this last with a limit on the amount so we can't pay the whole thing that way. Ex is flummoxed by options. We are going to split it and I pull out my debit card; "do you have a debit card?" I ask. "yes, but I don't know if it will work here." More irritation. Why the hell wouldn't it "work here"? have to explain that of course it will work here, and it does. There is nothing easy or comfortable about the situation. Finally we are finished and when we get home I lie down on my bed and pass out for an hour and a half. I do not know how I navigated life with that man for so many years.