Monday, December 22, 2008

blast from the past

I got "one of those" e-mails last night. I want to emphasize that although it came from a man, I never slept with him or anything like that. He's just, well, complicated. He was a student, a very good student, but also someone I know that I know I was a life-changing person and pushed him and did good things and that's a kind of strange and heavy piece to carry sometimes.

He's not sentimental, so I don't hear from him often. When I do, I always want to push push push - what are you doing? How are you doing? Married? kids? I know this man and I know that pushing him in that direction is a surefire way to make sure I learn nothing. He may be the only man who has ever gotten me to play by his rules.

We exchanged e-mails last night - I don't think that any of them was longer than 20 words. I know that he is alive and employed. (At a conservative estimate, he makes 100 times more than I make.) I don't think there's any way to make it fully clear to him how much that means to me.

Monday, December 15, 2008


I did not own a purse until I was thirty-(delicate cough)

There are a variety of reasons why - there's no point to having a purse when you're already hefting around a book-bag filled with ungraded student essays, library books, notes from the latest grad student coloq, three different kinds of pain killer, datebook, empty coffee cup attached to the shoulder strap, etc.

Then I slowly crept toward pretending to be an adult and accepted that I probably should own one. Truthfully, I'd rather have accepted the need for a speculum, but you don't bring implements to job interviews. I asked a family member with good taste to get me one for Christmas. Said family member (a man, I would note) came through it spades. My one purse is simple, easy to carry, easy to stow inside the inevitable book bag and so far immune to my destructive powers. Jeanne commented that some books fit into the hand or purse, etc. better than others, and that this affects when and how we read them. To my incredible delight, almost all books fit into my purse - big hardcovers are out, but I can still squeeze in almost everything else.

Waiting in line on Friday I read through 25+ pages of a mystery I tucked in there a week ago - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue if you must know. It passed the time and made me far less annoyed - all hail my reluctant purse.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

desperate, desperate, desperate

Sen. Obama isn't a citizen?

Snopes link

I had no idea that this issue was wending its way through the various courts.

Last night I went looking for a book and remembered that I had fought a long and hard recall war over it many years ago. I had it checked out for a time and it was recalled from me. I turned it in, but put in a hold - when the other person had their two weeks, I really needed it back. Well, the other person (whom I subsequently learned was faculty) put in a hold on me, and so it went. I basked in the myopic notion that as an impoverished graduate student, someone with health insurance could afford to shell out $50 for their own copy. The recall war went on and on and on - but the book has been on my shelf for, well, several years now. Am I just desperate to defeat the full timers? Or did the mysterious faculty member finish the project? Either way, I won.

Sam has been herding me all day. I had planned to catch up on some journal reading in bed this morning with breakfast; no go, it was imperative that I do it at my desk, which is far less comfy. I'd thought of taking a coffee break outside; no go, he wanted me inside. So it has gone all day. People laugh at me for allowing Sam to have such control over my daily life; they have obviously never been at the receiving end of a border collie stare. Even at the back of the skull, it's fierce.

Maybe I've read too any Internet postings, but I suppose I feel an obligation to him - Sam asks very little, truly, of me as his human. What matters most is that I maintain a routine. Heaven knows I probably function better with a routine anyway, which may be why I am such a pushover. Anyway, I am desperate for five minutes in which Sam lets me deviate from the norm!

Monday, December 08, 2008

another meme

Harriet offered this meme and I liked it.

Where is your cell phone? on top of the bread flour container
Your hair color? brown - the highlights have grown out
Your mother? well-intentioned
Your father? well-intentioned, but clueless
Your favorite thing? primary documents from an individual's personal history... (insert recognition of personal geekiness, doubtless requiring professional help)
Your dream last night? hot tub had been installed in my backyard and there was bubble bath and I admired the stars and then kids started playing kickball in the yard next door

Your goal? to have done my best
The room you’re in? my cave
Your hobby? my dog, with reading murder mysteries while curled up with my dog a close second
Your fear? Just one?
Where do you want to be in six years? employed
Where were you last night? grading essays
What you’re not? well-rested
One of your wish-list items? Now that I think about it, a hot tub.
Where you grew up? I was born in a small town/ and I can breathe in a small town/ used to day dream in a small town" which is why I now live in the suburbs

The last thing you did? wash dishes
What are you wearing? warm socks
Your TV? ancient (circa 1995)
Your pet(s)? warm and furry
Your computer? Macintosh - goes by Beatrice
Your mood? lethargic
Missing someone? not at the moment
Your car? named Phil
Something you’re not wearing? a toupee
Favorite store? any place that sells books
Your summer? warm
Love someone? lots
Your favorite color? purple
When is the last time you laughed? yesterday
Last time you cried? this morning
Tagging: anyone

Friday, December 05, 2008


Busy days here at lemming headquarters, trying to keep up with the marathon race that is getting everything done and processed so that the December graduations can go forward. After the pure luxury of sleeping in at Thanksgiving and having nothing more onerous to do than help wash a few dishes, I had grown quite spoiled.

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is such a funny muddle, isn't it? Constant carols every where, but it's only the first week of Advent and Hanukkah doesn't start for quite a while yet. (Yes, yes, Hanukkah isn't a Jewish Christmas, but it's part of the month.) Everyone seems to be in a holding pattern - we're all waiting for George's W.'s reign to end anyway, but the waiting just goes with the month.

Today is the birthday of Rose Wilder Lane, the "Ghost in the Little House" - did she ghostwrite her mother's books? Help with editing? Collaboration? More mysteries and process of waiting.