I suppose it’s official now that I signed
a contract, am verified tuberculosis-free, and passed the rectal exam with
flying colors: I’m going back to Antarctica! I have metamorphosed to my third phase:
1) cafeteria lady (‘14-16)
2) telephone switchboard
operator (‘16-17)
3) bus driver/penguin chauffeur
(‘18-19)
Everybody pile into the van, it’s time to
drive with extreme prudence! If I’m
lucky, I will pilot the mythic-stature conveyance knows as Ivan the Terrabus:
One of the best parts of being a professional
Vehicle Operator is that, to clarify radio communication, I attain the moniker
Shuttle Claire. While not overly creative,
it is nonetheless a nickname, something I’ve long (semi-)secretly desired.*
*Cat,
I’m embarrassed I asked, but it was kind of you to indulge me with Beans.
**Spence,
I adore that you and you alone call me C-Money.
***Tim,
I don’t think it counts as a nickname since you actually just think my name is
Emma. Thank you for remembering to
say Claire at my wedding.
****Si
vous m’adressez en français, vous pouvez m’apeller Sabine.
It’s been…whoa, shit…almost a year,
guys. I missed writing here. But it didn’t seem like the right place
to report on my experiences with online ESL homework, laminated dough and pie
baking techniques, or attempting to charm the local 29-year-old male
population. Here are a few key
takeaways:
- English language learners benefit from
both aural-visual and kinesthetic lesson plans.
- Bake croissants at a high temperature,
such as 425F, to prevent butter leakage.
- Pipefitters know all the good dick
jokes.
- When a guy says it’s been a while since
he was on a date and holds up a splayed palm, he might be indicating not five
weeks or months, but years. When a
guy says, “Nothing surprises me anymore,” it might turn out his ex-gf was a
prostitute.
- When I like a guy I will commit
unspeakable acts, such as petting his dog and enduring it licking my face.
That’s mostly it. My family is awesome, Matt and I are in
touch, my friends are there to help celebrate with fine wine or commiserate
with Boone’s Farm, we had a real northern MI winter with a fuckload of
wonderful snow, I swim and eat good cheese and take pictures of pretty flowers.
I will likely submit dispatches from a
Euro adventure in September (Aud wedding! Historically accurate British vintage
car race! Marta-Paris-cheese-baguette party!)—and then it’s back to the Ice again,
for season four of fantastic people, places, and things* bathed in eternal
sunshine.
*OMG
YES NOUNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. - Okay, I did try to come up with a
version of the blog for life here. Inspired by the at-times-comically-inane
rural weeklies, I called it The Boardman
Courier and Mail, Rucksack Local Edition. I never got further than the almanac. Its mission statement: “Our intrepid
reporters will cover the minutest neighborhood developments, the narrowest of
civic pursuits, ever endeavoring to fulfill our motto: cogitare umbilicus.”
