otpid/web huggingface dataset:
This past winter quarter, I was rattling on to my WR 122 students about the many advantages of having grown up in Kellogg, Idaho, no doubt boasting about the rotten egg stench of the air, the gray river running through town, and the privilege of being leaded, when one of my students said, "I live in Kellogg.  I've never seen you."  "You live in Kellogg, now?"  I looked like I'd just been told I was pregnant.  "Yeah."  She recoiled a bit at my bitter beer face.  "You  commute ?"  I looked like I'd been told I'd be having twins.  "I live in Eugene four days a week and the rest I'm in Kellogg."  "You drive over 500 miles a week to come to LCC?"  I was starting to feel flattered.  "What?  God, no.  It's only an hour to Kellogg.  I live in Kellogg, Oregon."  "There's a Kellogg, Oregon?"  "Hell yeah.  It's down by Elkton, on the way to Sutherlin.  I'm a volunteer fireman in Kellogg.  I live there on the weekends with my folks."  I moved to Eugene in 1979 and I had never heard of Kellogg, Oregon, let alone been there.  I decided on July 30, 2008 that I'd rectify this situation.  I drove to Kellogg, OR.  I took Hwy 38 to Elkton and saw the sign I expected to turn south on Hwy 138.  The traffic sign pointed to Sutherlin and Roseburg, but didn't mention Kellogg.  Odd, I thought.  I headed south.  Then I saw it:    My first thought:  where's the population figure?  I looked to my left:    My right:    Then I saw a sign.  Maybe if I follow it, I'll find Kellogg.  Maybe I'll see the volunteer fire house!     But, about fifteen yards up Kellogg Drive,  this:     Often when I was  kid, adults would tell me to leave Kellogg after high school.  "It's a dead end town."  At least we had houses and churches and a firehouse.  Then, just west of the Dead End sign, I saw this and I knew that Kellogg, Oregon had a past:    It must have been a lovely town.  Right after the "Kellogg" sign, a bridge spans the Umpqua River, shimmering on this late afternoon day:     And the wild plant life and blackberries thrived along Hwy 138:         I drove back to Elkton.  I saw a volunteer firehouse.  It might be where my student is headquartered.  Maybe she works out of Sutherlin.  There hasn't been a firehouse in Kellogg for a long time.
I was down on campus today gearing up at  Moe's , and drove down State St. on my way home.    While stopped at the light on Hill and State, I saw Sam McGuffie. This normally wouldn't be anything of note, except (a) dude is jacked- for a 'little' guy, he's got some pipes; and (b) dude rolls in a pimped out version of the Scooter Store. Seriously, I think that's enough to make him a Michigan legend already. I mean, we've all seen Van Wilder. Dude was the man at Coolidge College, and rolled to class in a golf cart. Golf carts are OK, but McGuff is dangerous. No, Michigan's Van Wilder rolls on a scooter. Plus, you totally know that McGuff has a Napoleon Dynamite-esque ramp where he's pulling sweet wheelies with that thing. Hell, when he's bored he probably heads the wrong way down South U and leaps on-coming traffic. Sure, it's no Corvette (cough, Cheaty McSweatervest, cough) but it's nice to see a frosh rolling in style.
I remember the very first time that I saw our house.  The realtor had given us a bunch of listings to check out from the street to narrow down our search.  The minute we turned in through the hedge and I looked down the long driveway to the house it was love at first sight.  I could already see the kids playing in the yard.  These were kids that I didn't have.  In fact, Marty and I weren't even married yet.  Nonetheless, I could see our life stretching out in front of us when I looked at our house.  We ended up having many of our wedding pictures taken on our new front porch and those have been followed up with pictures of the first day of school, babies coming home from the hospital, and birthday parties.  I know someday I will stand on that porch and watch kids leave on sleepovers, play dates, first dates and first driving lessons.  I will take pictures of boys in rented tuxes and Rachel in fancy dresses as they head off to dances.  I will watch out the window for their return.  Yesterday, as I was walking down the driveway looking at our house, with the bikes all over the porch and the seesaw in the front yard, I thought back to the very first time I came down that hill and saw this house.  All the promise of a happy life wrapped up in four walls and a roof.  It's a good house.  It's a good life.
I finally fixed the issue with my phone.  I have no idea what the problem was, but I fixed it.  I completely disassembled my phone (turned out to need T5  and  T6 drivers), blew on the camera a lot, and put it all back together…mostly.  It doesn’t quite all snap together right anymore, and I’m not sure why.  I might ask a friend if he can take a look at it; I’m also considering buying a new housing off eBay in case some of the clips got broken off, and that’s what’s keeping it from snapping together.  But I put it back in my broken case, and as long as it’s in there, it’s fine.  I think a rubberized skin might work too, but either way it’s not going to work with the holster I just bought for $8 shipped, which is designed for a case-less Curve.  Sigh…it’s not perfect…but I fixed the camera!!    Added:   This  is  exactly  what I want.  But $60?!  Oh man, I sure do want it though…I got money in my PayPal account…hmm….
It has been such a busy week that I haven’t found time to post pictures or a recap of our little weekend getaway.  On Friday last, all six of us drove to Austin where we dropped the four children with my parents for the weekend. Nana and Grandpa have been encouraging us for some time now to take a little break and let them handle the children for a night or two so Jay and I can just have some time off.  Which is really nice of them, considering all the work our four kids are!! and so we happily waved goodbye and headed off to nearby Hill Country to stay in a lovely little inn.   It was a great place and we picked it with relaxation and good food in mind. The inn
By sick people, that is!   A few days ago, Meredith threw up a couple of times in our kitchen. I didn’t think much of it; she had been chewing on the edge of a sticker sheet, and I assumed that she had just stuck the sheet back into her mouth too far and gagged. She seemed absolutely fine afterward. Well, early Wednesday morning (around 4:45 a.m.), I woke up to the sounds of Jeff getting sick in our bathroom. I went in to check on him, and he wondered whether it was food poisoning. He went back to bed and got some rest, and then when Lucas woke up, he started getting sick, too. Fun times. :( Poor Luke couldn’t hold much of anything down, but somehow last night he was able to eat a package of fruit snacks just fine. Strange! So, obviously, a tummy bug hit our household ~ and we have *no* idea where it came from.
When I want something bad enough, it usually comes my way eventually  For a long time, a very long time, I've been wanting some dried sausage.  Preferably the dried German sausage of my youth, made in Fredericksburg, smoked and air-dried, never cooked.  My mom told me a couple of years ago that it was no longer possible to get that.  Apparently regulations now require everything be cooked and while she could still get the dried sausage in Fredericksburg, it wasn't quite the same.  Sure enough, when she brought me some I had to agree  - it wasn't the same, but it was better than nothing.  However, no matter how much I might be craving dried sausage, I wasn't going to jump in the car and drive out to Fredericksburg, especially for a pale imitation of the original.   I've searched on-line, hoping to find something mail order, but I haven't had much luck. There is mail-order dried sausage out there, but it's not affordable and not necessarily what I was craving since I suspect that Italian dried sausage might be seasoned a bit differently than the German-Texan dried sausage I was wanting.  I even looked into the possibility of making my own dried sausage and the stuff to do it is also out there, available to the average Joe, but way too expensive for our budget at this time.  Maybe someday.  Lately I've been somewhat vocal in my desire for dried sausage, even considering a daytrip to the 'burg and tonight when Rob asked me what I wanted for dinner I said I wanted cheddar cheese, crackers and dried sausage.  But I figured dried sausage was out of the question so I asked him to just get me some salami, about as close I thought he could get at HEB.  Imagine my surprise when he called me from the store to say he thought he had found some honest-to-god dried sausage.  I asked if it was a shriveled up link and he said, "Yes, it's a shriveled up link that's tied in a loop with a string, it says it is dried sausage made with garlic, has a German name and it's only $3."  And I said, "Go for it!"  And it was close, very close to what I've been craving for years.  Missing the black pepper, obviously cooked, but still very close.  Thereby providing me with a dinner fit for kings (provided the king lives in my fantasy kingdom) and apparently now available at my corner grocery store.  Life is Good!
I have to give Justin big props here because he has been such a trooper.  He stood outside in the 105 degree heat at Lucy's birthday party and grilled 40 hot dogs and never once complained, even though he was battling a case of appendicitis..  He stayed downstairs and visited with everyone at the party.  And this is after he had already been in pain for 3 days.  That just goes to show how much he wanted Lucy to love her party and experience it all right there with him.  Thanks honey!  We both love you so much.  Justin had the surgery last night around 8:15.  It went really well and I got to stay in recovery with him.  I came home so I would be here in the morning with Lucy.  Lucy and I got up this morning and went to visit him.  We stayed a couple of hours.  Justin napped most of the time.  He has been in a lot of pain today.  They have had a hard time getting the pain under control.  The doctor is guessing that the recovery is even worse since his stomach has been cramped up since last Friday.  He was not able to urinate today, so he has to spend the night again tonight.  Hopefully he will be coming home in the morning.  We miss him.  Thanks Katy for watching Lucy for us tonight!!  I don't know what I would have done without such awesome friends to help us out.  Justin's mom has decided to come in town and will be here tonight.  I will be able to stay with Justin at the hospital until he gets released tomorrow, so that is nice.  I hope he can get a little rest tonight.  Thanks again for all of the prayers, emails, and comments.  We truly appreciate it.  Tomorrow is Lucy's birthday.  We will be celebrating in a very low key way!!  These are a few pics from the hospital today.  She was a little scared of all of the equipment at first, but she opened right up.
Garden Update    Wednesday night I came home from worked and made dinner, pilled everyone, fed everyone, did laundry, rode the bike all the way to Krispy Kreme and then washed the dog. Thursday night I came home, made dinner for everyone, pilled everyone and then fell asleep in front of the TV. It’s not my fault, I was watching a  Blue Planet  DVD and the whole disk was about life on the ocean floor. It is  very  dark on the ocean floor.
Hi again,  well, we've now been in Inuvik for a day and a half.   It feels a lot longer in the land of the midnight sun.   We had very little sleep yesterday after our early start and then deciding  we needed to get some  photos of us during our first experience of the midnight sun.   It was pretty odd and I suspect the locals must find it all rather disorienting.   The sun travels it's loop around the horizon and it was fully daylight as we drove along the highway back into town.   It certainly felt odd to think it was midnight and the sun was being a nuisance on the windscreen.   Today was a very leisurely start - we eventually surfaced around 10am after a lazy breakfast and I managed to get some laundry done.   Since then, we've bounced around town (not a very big town) and taken a short walk in the muskeg.   It's surprisingly thick bush and remarkably trackless.   Very like a bog, oddly enough.   I think that most of the area is little more than a bog with a short but energetic growing season.     We've been very lucky with the bugs - nothing exceptional thus far.   Except, I think of them as rural mosquitoes - not as fly or street-smart as their urban cousins.   Either that or so ecstatic at finding fresh southern blood that they're prepared to take suicidal risks.     Yesterday, the flight was "interesting".   The first leg was to "Old Crow" and I had a US university prof from North Carolina seated with me.   He was half of the of the two playing shepherd to a bunch of anthropology students.   I'd thought they were school kids.   I felt very old.   The next leg was next to a lawyer from Whitehorse who was fresh off a four day kayaking trip.   He commented that the bugs had been fine but, given that he was soaked in DEET (repellent) that I was feeling the need to move, I doubt anything made it within five feet of him.   Interesting bloke, though.   He job-shares and so works for 8 months of every year and has four months off.   This year he was lucky and so ended up with an 8-month stretch off.   I'm envious.  Anyway, I'm off for some wine and then supper.   We're hoping to get to Tuktoyaktuk tomorrow but things are a little more relaxed up here and we won't know whetehr the plane is flying until tomorrow.   It's a bit frustrating as I really am hoping to dabble my toes in the Arctic Ocean.  Take care and look after yourselves, A
I took MARTA home from work tonight because my carpool partner is at the store and I have Morning Lights practice.  The 139 was about 8 minutes late picking me up.  We seemed to have a lot of stops which slowed us down.  My goal was to catch the 9 at 5 Points by 6:50.  I got to Lenox by 6:30 and knew it'd be very tight catching that bus.     Thankfully I took   James'  suggestion to write down all the times of the buses I could potentially catch.  I got to 5 Points at 6:53 and figured I was out of luck on the 9.  So I took the eastbound train to Inman Park/Reynoldstown.  The cool thing about that station is I have 3 buses I can take, the 7, 107 and 34, all of which take me close to home.
I know what you’re thinking - Scott and Amanda have been at home for almost a week and we still haven’t had any grill action.  Well fear not dear readers, for today was beer and burger day.   And I don’t mean your common garden Miller Lite and a Big Mac - have you met us?   Amanda prepared some incredibly tasty avocado ranch burgers.  They were the most melt-in-the-mouth burgers I’ve had in a long time (and not just because of the BBQ sauce in the mix Gavin if that’s what you’re thinking).  The sweet potato fries were the perfect accompaniment to this very delicious burger.
I wish to share the solution the problem I faced a some time ago. During our evening walk I met a resident of that building and explained the noise from the Mobile towers installed on their bldg. Incidentally, he was also a sufferer, but did not know the source. He was happy that some body found it out. On the same night, he called the maintenace people of 'Idea Celluar' and got it repaired. Happy ending after running from pillar to post and spending sleepless nights. After a few days , a guy from GHMC enquired about the problem . He admiited that they did not do anything. but was happy, the problem ws solved!
Look Both Ways! - Driver was at a red light wanting to turn right(no blinker on either,btw). Was looking to her left and proceeded to make right turn but neglected to look right to check for pedestrians as a teenager was walking in front of her car! She hit his leg as he yelled at her and all the moron could do was shake her head..what?! No are you ok or nothing! Light turned green and she still didn't turn..took a good 15 seconds to comprehend that green means go.  Thanks for reading..
I had a magazine assignment that took me over to the Olympic Peninsula yesterday. It was not for any publication you've ever heard of, because it's a trade magazine that only goes to lumberyard owners. They're a long time client, they pay well, and I do 3 or 4 assignments a year for them, whenever they have a Northwest story. The trade pubs are a secret sector of editorial photography. There's a gazillion of them and they're all obscure as get out. I've done one-off assignments for mags you'd find on your newsstand—Smithsonian, Discover, Bon Appetit—but for regular, reliable, loyal clients, look to the trades.
We went along to the gala night at the  Affordable Art Show  in Wellington last night.   This is the second year I’ve been, and I think it’s a cool concept: it costs $10 to get in, and all of the art displayed is for sale at prices between $50 and $5000.  As one piece is sold it is immediately replaced on the wall by another, so the selection is constantly changing (I’d love to know how many times they turnover the entire wall space over the course of the weekend - I’m guessing it’s a lot!)
So, the new health club place we joined is working out pretty well -- there's nobody in the fucking pool like, ever, and the "bubble tub" is doing wonders for my gamy knee, which is bonus. In fact, yesterday, after a particularly swimvigorating workout, I decided to reward myself with a visit to the steam room. I figured a) it would probably be good for my seriously boogity sinuses and 2) it might help loosen up the ol' rigor mortis that I've been battling daily since turning 43.   So, I turn on the little timer thing to 15 minutes -- I figure I don't want to overdo it on my virgin schvitz. Then I open the door and find myself standing in a 5 x 7 cinder block room with a coupla benches. Seriously no frills steam action. But there was no fucking steam. So, I sit down on the bench and wait... allowing my claustrophobia to really ramp the fuck up. Just as I started to feel the walls start closing in, on came the steam.  Now, I'm sure the sheer terror I experienced at that moment was hard-wired into my genetic code in the early 1940s, somewhere between Krakow and Warsaw. I mean, here I was, a skinny Jew, most likely the only one in mid-Michigan (or in the whole fucking state, for that matter), naked as a fucking jaybird in a darkened, cinder block room, as a billowing, hissing white cloud of steam poured out from under the bench. I KNEW they didn't like my kind at the club! I KNEW IT!  But I tried to fight it. I tried to self-talk and say, " Just relax, crabbs -- it's just a plume of nice, healthy steam and not a noxious cloud of cyanide death-vapor. Just breathe it in... that's it, clear out those lungs... that's--wait, why is my chest feeling tighter? What's that smell? Do I smell... almonds?! Why is the room spinning? I've... I've gotta get OUTTA HERE!! WHERE'S THE DOOR? WHERE'S THE GODDAMN DOOR?! HELP! HEEELLLP!! "   I burst out of the gas chamber and into the shower area, where a lone septuagenarian was hosing off. Never had I been so happy to see an age-spotted methuseleh lathering up his leathery nutmegs. I almost hugged the guy, but I figured he would've called out for the commandant, so I toweled off, got dressed and got the fuck outta there.  So, yeah, I don't think I'm gonna take another schvitz for awhile. I'll stick to the fucking "bubble tub." Keep my eye on those fucking "tennis players." And I'll be sure to wear my swim cap at all times, so they don't spot my horns.
Last night, I was training a new cashier at one of the bars I help oversee. A preening muscle queen came in and tried to haggle on the admission price. Despite 20 boys dancing for dollars,  Chi Chi Larue  DJ'ing & giving away some of her more elegant titles and free shots from the classy guy standing in the hot tub in wet, white underwear.  I can see why he was arguing. I mean I hate complimentary liquor and dick too.  Anyway, this tool went about telling us how we should let him in for free because "he never pays cover."      He unfortunately had a bitchy ass attitude and his face acted like I was alternating in stabbing his mom and shitting on my register. I let my young protege handle it. Newbie told him that "we don't let girls in for free and Madonna might want her rosary back in case she reinvents her look again." I was silently very proud of Newbie for the sass.  But Mr Muscles was OH-fended. He left.  There was a lesson to be learned so I'm glad that bossy bottom helped the sitch so demonstratively. When a customer treats me like an asshole, it's only my job to let them know that I shouldn't be treated like an asshole, not to be an actual asshole back to them.  Usually, the offended party will come back and pay to get in once they realize the the bar I'm at has all the business and the cute crowd for the night on the strip.  However, if once they're back, and the shot boy "accidentally" pours a vodka-cranberry shot mostly in their mouth but also down their face and shirt...well, I dunno...just not much I can do about that (other than give the shot boy a fiver for doing exactly what I told them too by making the secret whipperwhill whistle sound...it's like a beautiful songbird in the forest with a dick in her throat).
To say that this has not been a lucky week for me would be the understatement of the year. I finally finished writing my heinous French paper (bringing my grand total of pages written in final papers to a whopping 86) and. . . promptly got a nasty case of tonsilitis, complete with such sore muscles that I didn't want to move and a fever to boot. After three days of misery, I finally admitted to myself that I must be sick, and hauled my ass to the campus health center, where I waited and waited and waited to be prescribed some antibiotics, and dragged myself home.   While I was reading, watching movies, and whimpering about how much my throat hurt to anyone who would listen, the boy in my life was completing his finals and preparing to go home. So, for his last week here, I was pretty much too sore to move, and too bacterial to make out with. Fun.   Then, since I was taking eight-hour naps while I should have been rehearsing, I had to pull out of the show I was in, which was disappointing. The antibiotics worked within a few days, but I had to keep taking them (only just finished, in fact), rendering senior week just about useless. Explanation: the purpose of senior week is to hang out and party with your friends who won't be around for too much longer (graduation is Sunday, and I would say that just under half of my beloveds are graduating--I'm going to need some waterproof mascara). It is not wise to drink while you're taking antibiotics. Not only have I been hanging around my friends and watching them get increasingly drunk at parties, I've also been eyeing my own liquor cabinet with resentment--I have most of a bottle of gin, and unopened bottles of shiraz, vinho verde, and pink champagne. It has not been consumed. To try to consume it all between tonight and tomorrow would not only be stupid, it would also probably kill me. Unfortunately, it kills me to see them go to waste.   So, to reiterate: not my week. So, what would make my week?  This  dress!     It's lovely, summery, and best of all, organic and sustainably made, and therefore, completely guilt free! Unlike, say, consuming three bottles of wine in one night.
I feel like Charlie Brown- I am so frustrated right now & even if it is petty stuff - well still   “AUGH!”     Two nights ago I was writing here about how difficult I was finding that “my99″ meme that  Janet  had up. I liked it though- it was hard but fun in a mildly frustrating way. I decided this morning when 18 said she’d like to go to the antique shop but needed a shower first that I would work on getting the songs organized.