ok, so tell me whether or not this is funny.

K: I have a work dinner party tonight. Do you want to come?
D: No, you go. I'll stay home with M.
K: We can ask Klaudia [German chick next door] to watch M, so you can...
D: No, no, I've got to stay home to watch M.
[Pause while K works it out.]
K: You can't use your centrifuge on me. I know what you're doing.

See, I meant "subterfuge," but I said "centrifuge." It's a malapropism. That's funny, right?

D says it's not funny. The thing is that I couldn't exactly remember the word "subterfuge" at the time, but I knew it was close to "centrifuge," and I knew it'd be funny if I said "centrifuge" instead.

But after D didn't know what I was talking about, we had to use an online thesaurus to find the word "subterfuge." D said that it's not funny if you have to look up the word in order to make the joke clear.

I told him that I wasn't to blame for his poor vocabulary. D said that he hadn't known the word, but that I hadn't known the word either, so it wasn't funny.

I said that I had known the word but that it had escaped me at the moment, and I knew it was close to "centrifuge," so to keep good comic timing, I went ahead and made the joke, hoping that he would know "subterfuge"--but sadly, he didn't.

So if a malapropism falls in the dining room, but nobody knows the original word, is it still funny?

Ups and downs

Can't remember whether I've written about this or not, but D's maternal grandmother died last weekend, so he's in the States at the moment, having flown back for the funeral, which was yesterday. He was a pallbearer.

He was torn as to whether he should go or not--climate change, fuel prices, overall expense, etc.--but in the end capitulated to his father and went. His mother (this grandmother's daughter) died when D was in college, and at the funeral reception was a guy who'd gone to school with her and had just recently learned that she'd died. As a result, D got to hear some really wonderful stories about his mom as a young woman from "outsiders" (not in the family). It was a really good experience for him, I think. Since she died when he was just becoming a young man himself, he was really robbed of the opportunity to know his mother as an adult, as a human being and not just "mom." I think it's left a big gap in his life, and he very much enjoyed hearing the stories.

Had a random meeting this morning with an editor from OUP, who's asked me if I'd like to do a little (very little--not to give you the wrong idea) work on the next edition of the Advanced Learner's Dictionary. Pretty exciting! They're going to include an academic writing section, and she's asked for my feedback on it as a teacher and as an American. Interesting. We'll see how it pans out.

On a slightly less pleasant note, I didn't get an interview for the intranet editor job at Oxfam. I think that might be the last job I apply for there. Sigh.

OK, it's late. Got to get to bed!

Busy summer

Mmmmm.. Texas Pete....

I'm still self-employed, working for the school in the city centre, doing some marketing. I'm also working at Oxfam this month, job-sharing with a friend who wanted to go part-time. It's Human Resources work, and most of the people I work with are very negative and not very bright. My own personal experiences with HR people have been similar. But now I'm seeing it from the other end. The work is very, very dull, and I'll be glad when it's up. I'm continuing to volunteer with the coaching team, though, and I hope to be putting together a newsletter for them in coming weeks.

In the meantime, though, I'll be doing a bit of teaching for Brookes in August, just a few weeks. The pay is good, and it's good to work for the university. I've applied for a few proper jobs as well. Two at Oxfam: one on the Unwrapped team and one as an intranet editor, the latter of which I'm actually somewhat excited about. I also applied for one at St Peter's College on the "development" team, which would basically be organising events for alumni to get them to give money to the college. Not too bad, free lunches in college, and right in the city centre, close to M's nursery school. The last one is with COIN, the Climate Outreach Information Network, as a training manager. I think I'm slightly underqualified for that one, so it'll probably depend on who else they've got in the pile.

I interviewed for one of these jobs today, with the Oxfam Unwrapped team--21 hours a week, which would be good, but the money isn't great, considering I'd have to pay for some childcare in order to do it. I don't interview well at Oxfam--it's very competitive, formal, and English--3 types of deadly situations for me. So I don't know how that'll go. I did well on the test they gave me, of course, and I did give a few good answers during the interview, but I got the feeling that it wasn't going to be offered to me. My personality just doesn't tend to jive with English people. I don't know what it is. Too direct, too informal, don't play the interviewing game well, don't try to present myself in a certain way... I don't know. It's just not me. It seems like a game, when actually, there's real work to be done by people who have better things to do than buy the "right" shoes and have the "right" haircut and perform flawlessly like an emcee at an all-star prime-time televised tribute to themselves.

I'm probably seen as just lazy and underprepared--wonder where I've heard that before. Just because I don't interview well doesn't mean that I can't do the job better than anyone else. Interviewing well is a specific skill that has very little transferable value to any other aspect of most jobs that I've interviewed for. Anyway... I have certainly seen things from the other side of the fence when it comes to immigrants and minorities trying to make it in a new society. I can definitely appreciate that struggle now. British people aren't exactly "America fans" at the moment, and I've definitely felt that in my interviewing.

Another thing is that in my previous job-hunting experience, my references have always been checked before the interview--or at least before the decision is made on whether to offer me the job. And in references, I always do well. My previous employers are always very, very pleased with my work. So if I don't shine in the interview (which I usually did, however, before I moved here and had my soul and confidence simultaneously crushed underfoot a gigantic metaphorical Doc Maarten), my references and previous work experience would prop me up. I'm bright and can do pretty much anything, and I have really come to resent the emphasis placed on interviewing here. There's no honesty during the interview process, no cooperation. All competition and posturing. And I'm no good at that crap. Sigh. What to do. Self-employment, I think. My students like me, because they actually learn something. We *do* something. We *produce* something.

I'm thinking I'm going to run online e-workshops in Academic Writing. Might be a good opportunity, a good avenue to explore.

M's well, walking and talking and starting to seriously test her/our limits. Leave it to my kid to enter the terrible twos a year early. She's a sassy little bitch some of the time, but usually, she's a real joy. Smile that lights up the planet, barely containable joy, bouncing around waving her arms in the air and babbling to herself about ducks or hats or her blanket ("baba") or dogs or "dat." She communicates so well. "Ahss" means both "give that to me" and "take this," depending on the context--e.g., when she wants something she points and says it, or when she's done eating, she says it, and you'd better clear off her tray quick or it'll all end up on the floor. The girl does *not* appreciate unneccessary food items remaining on her tray after she has had enough of them.

She's so communicative that she rarely slips into unreasonable behaviour. She does at times, of course, but we usually know what she wants or needs. She can use sign language to tell us if she's thirsty or hungry or "all done" with something, and she's started using the word "baba" to tell us she's sleepy. It's so cool being able to have a little "mini conversation" with her. I'm really looking forward to more complex conversations as she grows.

I'm running Saturday morning workshops for Academic Writing, specifically for the IELTS exam. I have a few students... only 1 at the last workshop, but I think 3 this time, which'll be nice. I hope that'll improve in the Autumn.

The doc put me on some anti-anxiety drugs this week, low-dose beta blockers--20mg at a time. I take 20mg at 7pm and another 20mg at 11am. She says they block the "fight or flight" thing, the adrenaline. I can definitely feel a difference. I'm MUCH less tense throughout the day, and I've actually been feeling sleepy at night again lately--haven't had that in a long time. I don't do my nervous hand-fiddling or foot-shaking nearly as much anymore. Might even have some effect on my blood pressure? Who knows. Anyway, I'm happy with them for now. I did take one (unusually) this morning before my interview, which might have been another reason why I didn't feel my sharpest--I'm much more relaxed and much less "on edge" when I've taken them. But it's definitely worth it. I do like not having a running commentary or to-do list in my head all the time.

I still miss the Bear terribly. Still tear up about once a week, probably, when I go for a walk in his favourite park, or if I see someone walking a dog with an open, happy facial expression like his, or when I toss M's uneaten bread crusts out into the yard for the birds instead of into his little metal bowl. Saw a beagle being walked on Cowley Road the other day and cried all the way home. It makes me so sad when M says "dog, dog, dog!" and points at the neighbour's house, where 2 golden retrievers live. I wish she'd remember him. We've got a few photos of them together, though. And I was always fond of Fritzer and Sam, who I have only very, very vague memories of but about whom I was told many stories. So maybe she'll hold a little part of him in her heart as she grows older and carry on his connection with this place for a bit after D and I are gone.

That's it from my world. Sadly, Dave's 95-year-old grandmother died on Sunday, so he flew back to the States this morning for the funeral tomorrow to be with his brother and his grandad--which is why I'm up at 2:30 in the morning typing on my blog--he's not here to scold me about not being in bed. Ha.