Since I'm on the road, and didn't bring my computer I went and downloaded an app for blogging on my iPod. We'll see how this goes.
So far I think I actually already posted a completely blank entry using this app. Amazing.
Jen works at Teach For America developing teachers, so she has flexibility in her day time schedule that my other friends out here don't have. Yesterday in between phone meetings about the ACT and emails about standards that need to be met, ("we only have so many instructional days left!") we took a walk along Lake Michigan.
As we walked we discussed our jobs and our lives. Jen was in the middle of explaining something about Chicago Public School curriculum when we noticed a man fishing off a dock. By his feet was a white plastic bag, occasionally flopping a few inches right or left.
Jen winced. "I hate fish."
To our dismay the man proceeded to stomp on the bag to stop the flailing.
"I always forget that you hate fish," was my lame reply as I tried to hurry her past the rest of the fishermen. But it really hasn't come up since college.
In college I suggested a fish for our dorm room, which Jen was obviously adverse to. Instead, for her birthday I bought a lizard. Avie,(named for Avagadro's number) used to get hand fed crickets. Jen's not a squeamish lady. She just HATES fish.
The Lincoln Park Zoo presented more problems. In the greenhouse a small koi pond caused Jen to leave the orchid room, the pelican's dinner dish sent her out of the bird house, and the hundreds of fish sharing space with a tiny asian hippo ruined the entire hippo experience for her. I've known Jen for eight years and never thought about her aversion to fish because it rarely came up. Now we were being stalked by creatures of the deep and shallow.
Eventually Jen had to get more work done so we parted ways with promises to meet for dinner.
I waited for Jen with some other college friends at the restaurant Liz C. had chosen on Belmont. When Jen arrived we finished our order, and awaited our selection of sushi and maki rolls eagerly.
I turned to Jen and raised my eyebrows.
"It's ok, she said, "nothing here looks like fish." She goes out for sushi every Tuesday.
I would have pointed out that the stomped fish in a bag probably didn't look like fish anymore either but my mouth was full of sea creatures.
As an aside, my best friend from high school ALSO hated fish, their eyes, etc. I pointed out this pattern to Jen who suggested flippantly that I blog about it. So now I have.