So my 62 year-old mother, whom I thought was hip and cool and up on the ways of the world since after all she does teach college... So my mother writes me and says, "I realize that the North is a foreign country, and has its own peculiar language, but what are loogies and how much are they worth when pawned?"

Obviously "hocking a loogie" is not as universal as I'd thought, so for anyone else out there who might be wondering the same thing, here is what I told her:

"Okay, 'hocking a loogie' is what it's called when you pull up a big glob of phelgmy mouth scum and spit it out. Usually involves big, hacking back-of-the-throat clearing sounds, which tend to warn people to stay clear until said loogie is well and fully hocked.

* * * * *

Yesterday afternoon I heard people in the hall, and since I wasn't deeply involved with anything I decided to go out and be sociable. Karen looked at me and said, "Free beer and wine downstairs!" I said, "I'm there!" Well, actually it was some big reception for some big jesuit convention going on this week, so Karen and I donned slightly dressy outfits, went downstairs and attempted to crash the reception. Unfortunately we realized quickly that it was going to be difficult since everyone except us was wearing huge nametags. We made a half-hearted attempt to mingle our way to the bar, but we gave up after several strange "who the heck are you people" looks. Besides, I guess stealing booze from Jesuits has got to be a pretty major sin.

* * * * *

The dorm is in a bad location. No, I don't mean it's in a bad neighborhood, I mean it's in a bad altitude-location. It's on the top of a hill. It's far above things like the grocery store, the running track, and far far above Elliot Bay Bookstore. Far Far Far above the bookstore. Yesterday turned into Climbing Day for me. First, I decided to go grocery shopping on the way back from class yesterday. So then of course I had to haul my groceries up the hill. Then, in the afternoon, after I'd finished my reading/critiquing, I decided to go do a short run. The run was easy. Walking back up the hill after the run was not. But that all paled in comparison to the walk back from the bookstore. That's is one long, steep hill.

* * * * *

Well, my story is going to be critiqued today, along with 5 others. I've discovered the one big advantage to turning a story in: you have one less story you have to read for the next day.

And I think I have a handle on my second story now. We're supposed to turn it in on friday, which I think I might actually be able to do if I can keep at this pace.

Paul Park is an incredible instructor. His fiction is not the type I usually read and enjoy, but as a teacher of writing he's superb. He's really pulling a lot out of all of us, and challenging us all to push our boundaries. I've already learned tons, and we're only three days in. We talk, when we're back in the dorm, about writing and learning, and how far we have to go. We all know we still are mere babes in the woods, but at least now we feel like we're beginning to see where we're headed. It's easier to have a goal when you know what the goal is. Of course, Daniel's analogy was, "Yeah, the light's turned on now... and I can see I'm in the Aegean Stables, with a really small dustbroom."