Anger is an interesting thing. A while back, at work, V went through about a week of appearing to be upset with me. Normally, we get along great together, but during that week I couldn't do anything right around her. I asked my downstairs boss if she knew what I'd done to offend V. I learned that it had nothing to do with me, so I let it run its course. These days, V and I are back to working great together. For the past few days, my upstairs boss has been in such a foul mood that some of us are afraid she'll quit. She's snapped my head off a few times this week. We all know and understand the problem. Today, it was my downstairs boss' turn for a tantrum. I've had my bad days, but I tend to sulk. While my group doesn't encourage little emotional outbursts, it understands that sometimes they're necessary - and we would rather they be taken out on coworkers (as long as they're not actually directed at anyone) than on patients.

This week's negative work atmosphere made this evening's yoga class feel wonderful. My downstairs boss didn't join me - I don't know if that was because she decided she wasn't interested, or if it was fear of getting stuck in Seattle if it started snowing. We hadn't talked about it. There were a lot of familiar people in this evening's class, and a lot of new class members. I realized tonight that it's become natural for me to focus my asanas on my back - where I need the most work - and less so on my arms and legs (where I'm "super flexible," according to Lisa).

I got my favorite spot, next to the altar, again this evening.

The local weather reports are predicting a possibility of snow in Seattle on Friday night or Saturday morning. In reality, that could mean it'll start snowing tonight, or maybe the end of February. With that, I am reminded of the second disadvantage of living a mere 1.5 miles from work (the first being the lack of reading time on the morning bus ride).

I learned today that I have been designated my group's "point of contact." What that means is that in the event of a disaster (and in Seattle, snow is listed as a disaster), I am the one person expected to be at work. If my coworkers get stuck in the snow on their way to work, or decide to stay home, I'm supposed to be the one who answers the phone when they call in.

The song stuck in my head this morning is Isobel, by Björk. (My name Isobel / Married to myself / My love Isobel / Living by herself / Na na na na na...)

I went home sick after staying at work for two hours yesterday. That's something I rarely do. I called in sick today. I've spent the day reading, sleeping, and drinking orange juice.

I have not yet begun to truly "piensa en español" (think in Spanish) - but I'm getting closer. I've recently read a delightful article entitled La Gritería (The Shouting). "Esta tradición es únicamente nicaragüense." (This tradition is uniquely Nicaraguan.)

I had very little trouble reading the article. There were two sentences that especially gave me trouble, however. The first was: "Durante las próximas seis horas, los cohetes esporádicos y los fuegos artificiales se oyen por todos las calles de las ciudades de Nicaragua." I understood most of what it was saying, but that term "cohetes esporádicos" tripped me up. Earlier in the article, "cohetes" was defined as "fireworks," and in this sentence "fuegos artificiales" was also defined as "fireworks." I couldn't find "esporádicos" in my dictionary, and the article didn't offer a translation. My dictionary defines "cohetes" as "rockets," so I knew the sentence was telling me that "some kind of rockets (or fireworks) and fireworks are heard," but what is "esporádicos?" Finally I turned to Babelfish (which I consider a last resort), and learned that "esporádicos" is "sporadic," which, now that I look at the word closer, seems obvious. So I was finally able to translate the sentence as "For approximately six hours, sporadic rockets and fireworks are heard in all the streets of the cities of Nicaragua."

The next difficult sentence was: "Después los grupos cantan canciones a la Virgen María que van leyendo de unos libritos que se compran por dos o tres córdobos cada uno." The sentence refers to groups that "van de casa en casa" (go from house to house) shouting their devotion to The Virgin Mary. This sentence says - I thought - that afterwards, they sing songs, but I just couldn't get what "que van leyendo de unos libritos" meant. The article defined "leyendo" as "reading," and "libritos" as "little books." I translated "que van leyendo" as literally either "that go reading" or "that walk reading." Does that mean that the groups walk as they sing, or that they sing songs and then walk away reading little books? Later in the article, it tells me that the tenants of the houses give little gifts to the singers, so I figured the singers can't walk very far. Again, I turned to Bablefish and figured out that "que van leyendo" is merely a way of saying "reading." So, the sentence says, "Afterwards, the groups sing songs to The Virgin Mary, reading from some little books that they bought for two or three córdobos each."

I'm getting there. This is fun.

We had an enjoyable afternoon with Pet yesterday: salad, conversation, and a couple of games of Split. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I should. That headache I had on Saturday turned out to be a symptom of something else. I've been tired for the past two days. I can't wake up. I don't feel well.

Gladden, on the other hand, is obviously feeling better. We don't have to coax him out at playtime. He's running around a lot more - jumping off of and climbing on everything in sight. The medicine is helping, it seems. I'm now looking at his recent behavior differently. Maybe it wasn't anger or grief that was making him refuse to come out of the house. Maybe it was simply painful joints.