confessions of a recovering English major

With one painfully boring exception, I loved my English classes in college. I majored in History because I knew I could do it well; I majored in English because it meant I got credits for reading novels and poetry. Hey, it seemed a good idea at the time, even if it meant that I wrote about five bazillion papers in four years. For this I am still making student loan payments.

It also means that when I listened to "Prairie Home Companion" spoof English majors on Sunday, I instinctively started to think about post-structuralism and its relationship to gender identity and deconstructionism.

Anyway, this is apparently National Poetry Month or some such because people keep sending me poems. These are normal, rational-seeming folks, and it is nice to see what gets sent my way... certainly a break from the usual dross of life.

I'm noticing something, though - almost all of the poems (upwards of 20) are old chestnuts. There's nothing wrong with "Two roads diverged in yellow wood/ and sorry I could not travel both" it's just that even as a freshman in college I was sick of it. Wordsworth's poem about daffodils is terrfic, but again, it's so over-used and repeated.

Now. I'm not arguing that we should all memorize "The Man From Snowy River" (up the Australians!) or that "Dulce et Decorum Est" doesn't make me cry (it does) but Frost and Owen and Dickinson and their kin did write other pieces.

P.S. There's a bumper sticker that says, "If You can read this thank a music teacher." (Then there's a few bars of Beethoven.) Official thanks to the teacher who first walked me through Paradise Lost.

advice to tech support

The phrase "oh yeah, this happens all the time" is not reassuring.

Nor is "we have no idea why this happens."

Lie to me. Tell me that it has to do with the orbits of the moons of Jupiter if you must, but please pretend that you understand why my computer is behaving in a strange way for the umpteenth time.

Oh, and P.S. do not take it as a compliment that everyone on my floor has your extension on speed dial.

more politics

Thanks to all for the feedback about my HRC/ BO comparison. I had no idea my random musings would generate such passion.

I don't want my vote to be cast "just" about the war. I knew (and know) far too many poeple who based their vote four years ago solely on 9/11 and a conviction that only GWB had protected us from it happening again. Do not underestimate the conservativeness of Indiana. John Kerry carried Marion County (aka Indianapolis) in 2004, but he and Gore are still the subject of scorn and derision here in the land of the Hoosiers. Being a left-leaning liberal sort of carbon based life form in Indiana is not an easy matter and we tend to be quiet about it. While the pre-varicating drives me up the wall, it does force me to really think through, think through carefully, what I believe, what I support and how to live it. Bear in mind that I live and work alongside people who wish that GWB could serve a third term.

Plus I teach history, so I'm probably waaaay too caught up in the historicity of the moment. Call it an occupational hazzard.

I did do some serious reading this morning about the candidates - their positions on issues other than Iraq, long-term hopes and allegiances, etc. I'm heartened that both BO and HRC have prioritized health care, though after living through the early 1990s, I'm not sanguine. Obama can be as independent as he likes, the insurance companies have scuttled health care reform before and will do it again.

On a happier note, a quote for the day:

She refused to bebored because she was not boring.
-Zelda Fitzgerald

decisions, decisions, ah, pay me a lawyer's salary please

All right, I'm working on this decision process.

Hillary:

Pro - Bill Clinton's voice is pleasant.
Chelsea has no visble drinking problem.
A woman president, how cool would that be?!

Con - she voted for the war.

Barack:

Pro: Michelle seems very smart and savvy.
Kids seem reasonably normal, as far as Hyde Park kids go (the U of Chicago is a very bizarre place.)
An African American pesident, how cool would that be?

He did not vote for the war.

Is this it? Is this all that my vote decision process will come down to at the end of the voting booth curtain? Not that the war isn't significant, but there must be more... I'll keep looking.

Just a passing thought - Bill Clinton campaigned for HRC in Bedford. When was the last time, if ever, that a former president visited Bedford? Benjamin Harrison, maybe? Wow. We're actually having a primary, what a great and wonderful concept.

the ballot box

Last night, it struck me - quite forcefully: I have to actually decide which candidate will get my vote in May.

I've been following the election, obviously, but it's been largely with the slightly detached and disinterested eye of someone who will have to teach it one of these days. Oh, I would go to the polls in May and squint at the silly electronic screens, but I would do it simply because I can rather than because it would have any meaning in the long term vis a vis the selection of a candidate. Surely by May the race would be down to one person for each ticket...

Apparently Indiana is going to be a big battleground state for Obama and Clinton. Indiana? Who would have thought it??! I am stunned. Chelsea Clinton did a big university speaking tour here and Bill has been spotted all over the place. Meanwhile I saw the first ad I think I have EVER seen in all of my years living in Indiana for a presidential candidate during primary season (Obama.)

In all honesty, I am not wild about either of my options - Obama and Clinton both bring odd bits of baggage and their own myopic views and weaknesses. Both seem to be quite passionate about public service and to truly believe that change is actually possible. Whichever way I vote, it will be a historic vote as cast by moi. I am only one citizen but damnit, that's the point.

(No, McCain isn't an option. His embrace of GWB creates serious problems in my mind, not to mention that we disagree on some issues that are of vital importance to me as a voter. I might have voted for him in 2000, but not in 2008.)

So anyway, I am slowly shifting from detached cynicism to trying to make a decision. I'm trying to weed out the "I landed upder sniper fire" and "he's a Muslim" stories and actually pare down to their ideas, their ability to connect with others and their overall enthusiasm.

If nothing else, "Hillary" "Barack" and "John" all pass my "Prayers of the People" test.

update and hodge-podge

Eighty-nine students understood the last assignment. Guess who continues to insist that it is, "so hard and it makes no sense." Ah well, enough of that.

We're in that funny mix that is Indiana spring - some warm days, some cold days, and some bizarre storms. Yesterday's classes were accentuated by thunder, buffeted by winds and the windows attacked by rain that sounded like machine gun fire. Naturally, by the time I walked to my car, the sun peeped out from behind the clouds. Were I the sun, I think I'd have just taken the whole day off.

Getting back to my earlier meme, I wanted to put in a plug for the Judy Garland/ Gene Kelly classic film For Me and My Gal. It was Kelly's first film and Garland's first starring role in which her name went above the credits. To answer your next question, yes, she's healthy and looks happy.

It's set during the days before WW I and, surprise surprise, features two hoofers who want to make it to the heights of Vaudeville. OK, so far it's a formula, right? Here's the catch - unlike most musical leads of the time, Kelly is a bit of a cad. He's not above some cocksure yet cunning duplicity to get to Garland. Garland's brother willingly serves in the war, while Kelly is, shall we say, a tad reluctant.

When the film aired in previews, several bits had to be added to make Kelly's charecter more acceptable to audiences - I'd have liked and comprehended him and his motives anyway, but as this was aired during WW II, I can understand this need to support patriotism. Anyway, how many 1940s musicals have war sequences?

"And sometime we're gonne build a little home for two or three or four or more in loveland for Me and My Gal."

thanks for the cold noses

I was running, running, running - wanted to scream, but couldn't - running, running, running...

I awoke to a cold nose in my hand. Sam does this sometimes. The cold nose is then followed by his patented "border collie stare" one hard wired into his DNA to intimidate the sheep. He may be the same size as your average sheep, but Sam's stare could get a ram to recite Shakespeare.

It's 3 AM, so I assumed that Sam was informing me that he really should go outside right now or we'd both regret it. I stumbled out of bed, prepared to go downstairs in my state of semi-nombulance.

Instead, with the herding stare firmly in place, he blocked the door. Feeling a bit like I had time-warped into an episode of Lassie I said something like, "what is it, boy?" Sam nudged me down ont the floor and then put his head into my lap after licking my hand.

Understand that Sam is not a dog who licks. I maybe get one if I've been away for the weekend. I am convinced that my dog knew I'd been in the midst of a nightmare and wanted to comfort me. He kept his head on my lap until my heart had stopped pounding.

I'd like to thank all who have commented, called, e-mailed and otherwise offered support in the on-going soap opera. Ei, I am in love with the CD. I hate to make a blog into a thoroughly narcissistic statement, but I suppose this is one of the useful functions it can serve in our day to day lives.

In other words, thanks for all of the cold noses.

a quiet rant

I thought I was tough.

Really.

I've been called every name in the book, plus a few that even a porn publisher wouldn't include, let alone Harlequin.. In 15 years, I've gotten reasonably accustomed to the occasional problem student. I'm pretty good at dealing with them too. In all modesty, I pride myself upon being the kind of teacher that gets people to say, "you know, I hate history, but I love your class."

I work at it. Very hard. Very hard. Probably much more than any of them ever guess. I care, a lot. I am poorly paid and all of that, but what I do matters and I love it and that's the point. I don't want to make millions, I want to make people as excited about history as it makes me. I want them to use it to improve matters, be informed, create change. Don't build amusement parks on Civil War battlefields -

I had a show-down today with a student. This was the worst show-down I have ever had with anyone in my entire life and I do mean with ANYONE. Pick your worst playground bully, your worst ex-boyfriend's mother, whatever. This was hideous. At the end of it I was, literally, sick to my stomach.

I hope that this means an end to the soap opera I have mentioned in the past. I am not optimistic. I have learned that I am not the only one to have problems wioth this person... I'm just the first to confront the student directly. Lucky me.

I'm sorry; I had planned to write a long and funny post about the one film that no one guessed from my meme (For Me and my Gal, Judy Garland and Gene Kelly) but this is all I can handle right now. Tomorrow I promise to go back to being light-hearted.

movie meme

I've been seeing a lot of bloggers experiment with this one - it's been fun to see the variety of choices, even when when I haven't seen any of the films in question.

1. Pick 10 of your favorite movies.

2. Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.

3. Post them here for everyone to guess.

4. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.

5. GUESSERS: NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions.


1) "Oh Abigail, Abigail, I have such a desire to knock heads together!"
-1776 guessed by Harriet

2) "That wasn't the prettiest corner I've ever seen Mr. Liddel, but certainly the bravest." -Chariots of Fire guessed by Jim and yes, you're exactly right, it should be "quarter" not "corner"

3) "I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We both know Henry knows, and Henry knows we know it. We're a knowlegable family."
-The Lion in Winter Joe, bonus for knowing extra lines!

4) "Did you know she has flowers in her panties?"
-The Gods Must be Crazy guessed by Jeanne (I can't believe that she didn't know #7!)

5) "a little home for two or three or four or more in loveland"

6) "Perhaps Margaret is right. Perhaps piracy is our only option. What exactly is swabbing?"
-Sense and Sensibility Brain Girl - I didn't know you read my blog! I am honored.

7) "I'm a damsel - I'm in distress - I can handle it. Have a nice day!"
- Hercules guessed by Foxy - Drew, we saw this together!!!!

8) "Games? I've seen better organized riots."
-Chariots of Fire also by Jim. OK, I admit it, I couldn't decide which line I liked better so I used them both. Hey, it's my blog and it's a brilliant movie.

9) "Green - no, blue - aaaah!"
Monty Python and the Holy Grail guess by Harriet, some of smartest silly humor ever

10) "one sister has gone with a brother before, but two sisters makes the entire family look ridiculous."
Meet Me in St Louis Harriet, how did you get this one??!

and I thought I had a bad week...

I had a very raw week this week, lots of students who are slowly learning about what it means to be responsible, take care of what matters, etc. Monday was particualerly overwhelming, just listening to the morass of doom and despair. I speak of this casually, but these were all kids with real problems, the kind that put my annoying student to shame. Sure, you hate my class, but you don't have a dying family member, a child in intensive care, or a recent diagnosis of bi-polarism. (Is that a verb? Person diagnosed as bi-polar.)

Anyway, here's another "bummer desk" story. I at least am able to work in my chosen field. I could wish for better pay, more respectful students, a corner office... but I am able to do it. Now, I know, Prince Harry has all sorts of advantages and options comletely unavailable to us mere mortals. It's still got to be rough to carry the DNA of the Diana legacy. By all accounts he desperately wanted to be sent to the war, to do what he has been trained to do, serve as a citizen, and prove his mettle. Instead, an American new source has outed him (that will be on the cover of People next week, I'm sure) and he's back to playing polo or whatever it is that he can do... Makes my life look easy, so I'll stop complaining, at least for now.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7270743.stm

soap opera update

OK, now this is getting out of hand. Student mentioned in the previous posts e-mailed me last night at 10:45. AsI am an old person (tm) I was asleep. The question was perfectly valid, but I do not have any sort of alert system for e-mails hooked up. damnit, I've acrued enough debt to qualify for this job (jobs) that I deserve at least seven hours each night.

Said student then e-mailed at 7:00 AM to complain that I had not yet amswered the message from last night. At 7:00 AM, as best I recall, I was indulging in a healthy breakfast of leftovers, and e-mail was not the first (or even fourth) thing on my mind at that moment. "Am I really awake?" definitely took up the first fifteen or sixteen priority slots. "Why aren't you answering me? This is your job!"

A good friend of mine left grad school, despite having a GPA off the charts and all sorts of innovative ideas, because dealing with such situations really did not appeal. Wise choice.

(except that I love my job most of the time... addiction?)

a follow-up

Mariah raised an excellent point in her comments to me, and I wanted to respond.

I am all in favor of students who speak up. I get a huge kick out of the folks who raise the unusual points, or who leap in with a wild guess when no one else is speaking. That makes class more interesting, I hope, for everyone. Hey, I'm human, sometimes I'll have a topic that I've carefully planned out, but the definition and accompanying questions just don't work. Hey, if someone doesn't tell me, I won't know.

It's when a student has obviously not cracked open the textbook in, oh, say, six weeks, not bothered to get the notes for the classes they missed, and expects to be able to jump in... well, then I get annoyed. When the rest of the class gets annoyed with another student, I take that as proof that I'm not truly evil.

Meanwhile, I would just like to report that I have exercised great self-restraint and not eaten all of my Tag-Alongs... yet.

teaching thought

I have a student who really really doesn't like me. Everything in every class is to be questioned and found less than adequate. At bottom, the student is uncomfortable with my approach and the questions I raise. I have a sneaky suspicion that this student wold be uncomfortable with any thing different, be it me, be it William Faulkner, be it DNA evidence.

What's fascinating is that this student hasn't yet grasped that their questioning is really starting to annoy the rest of the class. I could care less (really, I mean it) but I do care about the impact the questions have upon the tone of the discussion. At the same time, I love it that the class can debate.

seasonal musings

So a couple years ago I was thumbing through the Encyclopaedia Britannica because I wanted to know the origins of this Cupid chap who is supposed to be flying around this week. He's Roman, in case you didn't know (I didn't at the time, which is why I was looking him up in the first place). He apparently enjoys archery and he's a menace to our society. Britannica says that his "wounds inspired love or passion in his every victim."

"WOUNDS???" "VICTIM???" He's hunting human prey, for crying out loud! Clearly this guy is a terrorist and needs to be stopped at all costs! We need to ship his wing-ed little ass off to Guantanamo and find out what his real agenda is!


As you may have guessed (if you didn't already know), I find Valentine's Day a disgusting and crass holiday. Even in the days when I had a girlfriend, I still wasn't that fond of it (although I will admit that it was a lot more fun). I don't understand the concept of it, personally. Some poor schlub gets his head lobbed off and I'm supposed to be romantic about it?

"Y'know, honey, we can go out to dinner and a movie anytime. Tonight, why don't we watch someone get martyred?" I don't know about the rest of you, but I certainly get hot just thinking about someone's decapitation. Valentine's Day -- Bah! Humbug!

Which brings me to love itself. Can there be anything as screwed up as this emotion? I find it thoroughly fascinating that while love is the antithesis of hate, it can be just as destructive -- just ask Helen of Troy. Or Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...

The only good thing to come out of it (aside from the continuation of the species, I suppose--which is a diatribe for another time) is what it does to us creatively. Just ask Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...

Our species has created plays, paintings, movies, stories, and, yes, literally thousands of songs according to Rob Fleming (or Rob Gordon if you're a fan of the movie), devoted to love. One could make the argument that the entire entertainment industry was built upon the ideas of love and romance. Hugh Grant alone owes his entire career to it!

This was written by my friend Hagrid - Hagrid is the honorary little brother whom I wish I saw far more often but whom I know I could call at 3 AM for a place to sleep or for bail money. We've been chatting about the holiday season of late and I (with permission) now blatantly post his words, as I thought them most apt to the motivations behind the festivities.

I think that one of the areas where we fall down most readily is in the simple act of telling people whom we love that we love them. Purchasing a box of chocolates or a dozen roses or a three foot long snake with sewn on "be mine" heart (available at my local Kroger) once a year is just not the same.

Apparently teachers get more Valentines each year than spouses get from each other. What does this say about the commercialization of romance?

I hereby call for this to be a week of simply saying,"I love you" - be it to spouses, SOs, siblings, parents, children, pets or even laser printers and coffeepots. Skip the profits and just say it. Then say it again when this week is over.

dietary query

Whta is it about Fridays in Lent that makes me so crave red meat? I'm a Protestant, for pete's sake.

post-mortem on Super Tuesday

I am fascinated by all of the conservative talking heads who have announced that if John McCain is the nominee that they will work for Hillary's election. Aren't these the same folks who villified her ten years ago? Accused her of theft, murder, avarice, deceit, cover-up, conspiracy and any number of other foul acts?

This to me smacks of the same tone adopted four years ago by another end of the spectrum - "ohmigod, if Bush wins this election I am moving to Canada." Yeah, and all of you did just that.

Right now I'm just holding my breath for an actual honest to goodness primary election among the Democrats. It would be terrific if my primary vote, cast in May, carried more than symbolic value.

edge of memory

Just for historical documentation:

a sudden memory - I was blackmailed into helping out with my high school yearbook (yes, it was blackmail and he's now in the Marines in Iraq, OK?) - one day we got a call from a man whose father was an alum at our school. For whatever reason, he knew nothing of his father as a person, so what we could tell him, based solely upon his father's yearbook entries, was deeply meaningful.

Wow.

40 + 20 -20 = 40

We are fast approaching add/drop deadlines. I have 40 students in one of my classes. I do not flatter myself that it is full because they love me - the class is required and the time is right. The room seats 40, maybe 42 in a tight pinch. I refuse to go above 42... but I am still getting requests from people who drop the name of their adviser in hopes that it will help them get in.

#1 - I don't know your adviser, don't care about your adviser and if your adviser was any good, they would have been in touch two months ago like the other advisers who talked me into admitting their kids.

#2 - no.

#3 - you want in my class? Get me a raise.

On a happier note - Ginger! That's the one I couldn't remember. Whatever happened to her, anyway?

a short quiz

In thirty seconds or less, name all of the Spice Girls. Bonus points for knowing their real names.

I can't.

living space vs. real estate

Most bathrooms are larger than my office. Many closets are larger than my office. I share my office with another prof. There's room for desks, coats and a chair and then maybe a tight turn around.

Naturally, when another prof demanded a different office space, our was the first one the powers that be came up with as a suitable alternative. Said power of being has an office easily four times the size of mine, and single occupancy.

what's in a name?

Because the 2008 primaries started, as best I can tell, back in 1988, I have started to fixate on odd details. I live in Indiana, so my primary vote won't count (though I will be voting, on principle if nothing else.) Nonetheless, I feel that I should pay some sort of attention.

The religious angle does not interest me (and I probably know more bout the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints than many journalists who pretend otherwise), I don't worry about divorce, and I long ago left the wars in Iraq and Afganistan in God's hands. Thus what is left for me to obsess about?

Names.

More specifically, the candidate eventually elected will be prayed for every Sunday for the next four years. I often read the Prayers of the People at church, and I have noticed that some names ring "more dignified" than others. "Frank, our governor, Mitch, our governor" - I wish them well and wise, but they lack dignity somehow. I never did like praying for "Bill, our president" always preferred "William." George is dignified, but I tend to prefer name of two syllables.

So, where does this leave me, the burned-out voter?

Michael = dignified
Barack = unusual, but passed the two syllable test
John = one syllable, but dignified
Hillary = two syllables
Rudy = two syllables, kind of odd, but can we handle Rudolph?

Not sure how I feel about Mitt.

more technology, advanced and otherwise

Well, it's been a busy week here at lemming headquarters. As I am a particularly cruel and vindictive person at times, I was delighted to hear that the tech person about whom I last blogged as "resigned to spend more time with their family." Don't let the door hit you on the way out or I will.

Tech's replacement proved to be funny, helpful, understood me when I said "well, I click on the yellow bit and then the red button doesn't come up" and I am prepared to bear his children.

Continuing the stream of happiness, not one but three former students e-mailed me pictures from their vacations. "Oh my gosh, prof lemming, I read about location x in your class and here I am in front of it!" That was cool.

I've started thinking about the syllabus for one of my classes for the spring - I still have a few weeks. I've done the class before, but in a different format. I think I', going to pitch the old bits and start from scratch. This will make for more work (ick) but will be more interesting for me and hopefully for them.

I recently mentioned to one of my favorite college profs that I did occasionally doodle in their class - it had actually helped me follow what was being said. Said prof was horrified. "You did? Really?" This makes me feel better about the students I saw doodle in my class at the end of last semester!

Happy 2008!

which will mark a return to blogging.

Long time no write, I know. I spent most of the last six weeks of 2007 in a nasty battle with the tech support powers that be. Let's just say that I resent doing tech support's job for them, on my own time, and that it really ate up a lot of my Christmas Spirit, the dulcet tones of Mariah Carey notwithstanding.

Then I opened Christmas Cards, physical and virtual, and was reminded by former students that I really did teach them something along the way. All right, all right, the cockles of my heart are warmed and I will carry on. Maybe I can shame tech support into being useful for a change.

I caught most of a segment on 60 Minutes the other night which proved, tongue in cheek but still definitive proof, that the geeks now do run much of the world. One of the interviewees was the founder of Geek Squad. Said founder commented that he very intentionally puts his workers in the black clip-on ties for two reasons. the first is to remind his troops that they are professionals. The second is to keep them humble. The biggest complaints he hears about tech support people is that they speak a foreign language and that they are arrogant jerks.

The techno-babble doesn't bother me. 99 times out of 100, I find that tech support people are more than happy to explain a term to you - indeed, and pleased to be asked. It's the arrogance that drives me up the proverbial wall.

Example:

lemming: I need help with this.
Tech: This is the link.
lemming: I clicked on that link and I got an error message.
Tech: Click on this link.
lemming: I just did. I told you, I got an error message.
Tech: Cut and paste this link into your browser.
lemming: I just did, for the third time, and I keep getting an error message which says that this site does not exist.
Tech: Well, that's the right link.
lemming: Have you actually tried this link?
Tech: well, not as such, but that's the right link.

The year can only get better!

tis the season

A few years back I confessed that Christmas for me hasn't truly arrived until I hear Mariah Carey sing seasonal tunes. This is conclusive proof of a deep-seated personal failing, possibly requiring professional treatment, but I can't help it. It's just not really and truly the Christmas season until I hear her "All I Want For Christmas Is You" on the radio.

(I also need to hear Springsteen "Santa Claus is Comin' To Town" so I can't be a totally lost cause musically.... I hope. Maybe?)

Last year the Mariah moment didn't happen. I took to playing the radio even when I had a headache and wanted quiet, just in case... but no go. Not once. Not even Christmas Day.

Both toner cartridges gave out this morning, so I ran out to Ye Audle Big Box Shopping Emporium and, before I knew it, before I'd thought about it, without even planning, I picked up Carey's Christmas CD and put it in the cart. It's now burned to my computer. I know, the Beethoven, Copeland and Glass tracks are contemplating a mass exodus at the moment, though they've lived alongside the Doobie Brothers for quite a while now without complaint.

I've heard the song - twice. I am happy.

will this help my resume any?

Which Star Wars Jedi/Sith are you? Yoda Dynamite in a small package, and long-lasting, like the Energizer bunny. While you are wise and calm, you are able to call on your killer instincts and be kick-ass. Some may call you a ‘sleeper’. With such great power comes some arrogance, but you are quick to return to humility and fix your mistakes. You have certainly left your mark on the world, in good and bad ways, and it was kinda sad to see you go. But no need to worry, you have gained immortality even though you can’t wield your toothpick of a lightsabre anymore.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

oh, not again

Red Sox - ye-haw!

You all know what a sports fan I am not, so the degree of my enthusiasm may be underestimated at this moment. Nonetheless, please believe that I am jubilant, delighted that a Colorado (state of losers) team lost, that the wild card team lost, and miserable that this means I must now spend months listening to my NPR anchors discuss basketball.

A while back I blogged about my reoccurent problems with collection agencies who get my number thinking it belongs to someone who owes money, should be in jail, etc. A few years ago I would get calls at 6 AM demanding that I turn over the offending person, never mind that I had never actually met them.

Well, it's on again. "Fred" must be in some serious trouble because he or she (it's one of those names that could go either way) gets lots of calls at my number. After three months, I now know the correct address for Fred, or at least the last known address. Generally I can tell the caller that no, they may have my number in their computer, but if they are looking for Fred who lives on a particular street, they have the wrong place. No, I don't know Fred and I can't help them find him/ her (would someone please tell me their gender?!) If ever I meet Fred, it won't be pretty.

I get calls from all over the country. Would that one of them came from Dog the Bounty Bunter on A & E, but no such luck.

Today's call (the third from this number this week) came from Oklahoma. I went into my usual spiel, "No, never met Fred, no clue how my phone number ended up in your database, don't know Fred, never seen Fred, can't pass along a message..." OK, this is a partial lie. You got my phone number the same way that the other twelve (I am not making this number up) people got my number: computer error. Somewhere along the line, people screwed up because, hey, we make mistakes.

No one makes mistakes in Oklahoma. I am (obviously) sheltering someone who has committed a terrible act. Exactly what sort of act (theft? murder? witchcraft? eating too many Twinkies?) I do not know... but the caller says that i do. I appreciate this optimistic vote for my psychic powers, but no. "You know Fred!!!" insisted the caller. "Yeah, that was the name of my lab partner in biology class back in the Reagan administration."

The caller has threatened to send police by on a visit. Police, I'll spare you the time: Fred ain't here. If it's Dog you decide to send, please send Leeland instead of Dwayne.

idols and idle and ideals

Thanks to Matt for asking where I've been. The last few weeks have been draining and I've not been much for chat (yes, I consider my blogging time a kind of chat!) I've concluded that I need a full time staff - masseuse, housekeeper, maid of all work and a butler to greet me at the end of each day with a glass of Merlot and the day's mail, edited of all spam and junk mail. This is probably typical mid-term stress kicking in (yes, profs get it too) and I remain deeply grateful that I have a job about which to feel stressed and tired.

Oh, yes, and a cook would also be nice. I'll just sit in my study, mark-up bluebooks and dine well.

That's an easy ideal and would probably turn into something of an idol and make me idle.

I've read a couple of pieces by faculty (various institutions, not just mine) for whom the "interview and campus visit" process were little more than sherry, port, red wine, then enormous dinners, mimosas with breakfast, and then give you talk and teach a class. Any campus visit is partly a question of "can I stand to work with this person over the long term" and certainly putting them through such a thing would be one way to test that.

A professional lifetime of such weekends... it amazes me that any of the great books of that period were written at all. Then again, the topics tended to be more interesting (far less esoteric, I think) and relationships seem more convivial. I chat with my colleagues, but it's not the same. Has much been lost? Yes, but so has it been gained. Maybe that's the ideal.

Not that I still wouldn't like a butler/ masseuse who can cook.

educational purposes

I'm on a Cole Porter kick again. Periodically I try to learn the tune to "Night and Day." The words are simple enough, but getting all of the intonations, inflextions and whatnot correct for this piece has always been a challenge... all the moreso because I do most of my singing in the shower and in the car and neither of these locatiosn has a piano.

I'm a reasonable singer - nothing all that special, but I can hold my own in a church choir, chorus section or even when faced with my dog rolling his eyes as I search for notes. I have three different recordings of "Night and Day" on itunes. Fred Astaire's rendition has only suceeded in further confusing me, but a few more rounds with John (De-Lovely) Barrowman and I might actually get part of it right.

Meanwhile, I leave you with this career advice from Porter's "Be A Clown" -

A college education I should never propose
A Bachelor's degree won't even keep you in clothes
But millions you will win if you can spin on your nose
Be a clown!

ahoy there me hearties!

In honor of "Talk like a Pirate Day" (thanks, Dave Barry!) find out your own Pirate name. I am "Dry Bone Bronson" which seems terribly dull and mundane. I'll have to go do a bit more pillaging to make up for it.

Hmm... now, a big white whale, that's what I need...

office decor

I've been pondering office space quite a bit of late (OK, insert obligatory television show joke, I'll wait.) (Done?)

My office would be best described as sparse. I've put up a few posters. Hey, I'm a woman, I reserve the right to love Monet's water lillies. They liven things up a bit, but the office is still pretty sterile. My office-mate took a different approach. Her desk and "general area" are full of pictures of her kids, her dog, her husband, etc. It makes the place look lived in, but I'm not sure how much personal information I want to share in this fashion.

I got to thinking today about decor - one prof has an office so cluttered he can't use it. There's space for two people and not much more - and I do think that he does it on purpose, as part of his image, self-presentation, etc. Another one hung up a 1960s psychadelic bedspread on the wall, but there's not much else in there except his computer and (weather permitting) a jacket.

oh, to be a dog

Sam has somehow managed to nose around a bunch of pillows and other random items on his sofa to create a sort of nest. He's happily encased and snoring quite loudly.

He's a spoiled dog in many ways, and can occasionally be difficult and aggravating - it's the border collie genes. Sam is also a wonderful & loving companion and I do so love him.

memorable moments

As one is (hopefully) wont to do, I stopped by the bathroom before class a few days ago to take care of, er, private and personal matters. I cannot speak for men's facilities, but ladies rooms usually have a space of about 18 inches between the floor and the wall of the adjoining stall.

I happened to look around me while in said stall, and noticed that the ankle next to mine had a really pretty tattoo on it. I personally do not want a tattoo, but this was really attractive - well drawn, great colors, contrast etc. When we were both out and washing hands, I complimented the student on it.

The student, who up until then seemed fairly normal, looked at me as though I had suggested that we dangle live crawfish from our eyebrows. "I never thought a professor would like a tattoo." eeek - what have I done - and I'm obviously a professor, ohmigod, eeek, I am OLD

Today it hit me - I thought the tattoo was pretty and whatever, I will have forgotten about this in a few months. This is now part of this student's college experience and she will probably remember forever that a professor complimented her (in the bathroom, no less) on it. The student said the tattoo was new and her mother hated it. Yet here I am. I made a memory and a good one.

Wow.

heroes

I learned today that Richard Jewel had died. You remember him - he's the one who found the bomb at the Olympics, saved lives and then spent months defending himself from accusations that he had planted it. The FBI confiscated his mother's Tupperware and (??) Disney movies in their search for evidence against him, before realizing that the bomber was Eric Rudolph.

Jewell was forty-four.

Utah & Utah

I'm strangely heart-broken about the lost miners in Utah. I believe in miracles, but by now I am sure thay they are dead - I only hope that it happened right away, quickly, without pain and not three days ago. I want to do something, but have settled for prayers and hopes -

Then I found out that thousands (literally) of miners die in China each year. With all that we have learned about mine safety in the last century, is this the best that we can do?

Then there's the collapse of the stock market, which affects me only in as far as my hope that interest rates will drop and my student loan payments shrink.

Anyway, I was wallowing in self-pity, melacholy and whatnot, so I picked up the textbook for this fall's class. It's been two years, so naturally there's a new edition. Unusually, actual significant changes have been made. This necessitates actual careful reading - American History has not changed, but the book has. The book's collective authors have added lots (wonderful) about the Mormons. Somehow reading about people who lost everything not once but several times, then walked with wheelbarrows from Illinois to Utah -

my life is mindbogglingly safe, protected and boring. This is actually a good thing.

the waiting game

I have come to the conclusion that the nation and the world are simply waiting for G.W. Bush's term to end. Teh latest corruption stories (firearms stolen and sold to others rather than given to Iraqi police - unless the police stole and sold them, who knows) have attracted attention from only the far left-wing. Newsweek ran an article about it but their pieces on college admissons will attract far more attention.

Much as it pains me, I think that most of the world has simply given up - they support the troops and wish them well, but there's a feeling that once GWB is out of office, somehow all of this will get better.

I do not share this view, but I do begin to share the sense that this is a waiting game, that we must simply outlast the president's term before we can do anything about his legacy.

Meanwhile, I can be glad that I have no 401(k) as it probably would have tanked by now.

Yours in cynicism,
lemming

mystery house

Naturally I've had "You Can Leave Your Hat On" stuck in my head since Thursday, coupled with an incredible desire to giggle.

Sam and I follow the same route nearly every day for our walks. Periodically I will notice something about one of the houses or other buildings and (human curiosity, I suppose) I start to come up with possible explanations. One house had an enormous trash binin teh back yard for months - the kind that are the size of a garbage truck. "Ah, remodeling," I thought. Then a port-o-potty appeared and stayed, which to me suggests a lack of running water.

The grass stayed neatly mowed and the bushes trimmed. Maybe I've just seen too many episodes of Flip This House in which the whole project gets completed in two weeks or less, but this wasn't what I expected.

The bin and the outhouse were gone as of yesterday, but there's no For Sale sign - perhaps I need a new theory.

adventures in music

I am not, as Dave Barry would say, making this up -

Scientists at the Berlin Zoo have been experiementing with mood music to encourage the sharks to, well, fornicate more frequently. (As long as these sharks stay inside their tanks inside Berlin, I have no problem with this experiment.)

Appaerntly one of the songs which sharks find most conducive to procreation is Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On" immortalized in the soundtrack to 9 1/2 Weeks.

The Indianapolis Zoo has a new shark petting tank. I am deeply tempted to bring in a boom box... though I would not dream of turning it on while petting them. Perhaps I should donate some ipods?

downsides to post-modeern technology

It’s happened again.

This is the third time.

Someone gave out my phone number as theirs, and now I get their calls.

The first time, it went on for years – women would refuse to believe that I was keeping their man from them and subject me to all sorts of interrogations. Mothers looking for their daughters would burst into tears (this happened three times) when they realized that the “nice boy” had lied to them. Only when the “nice boy’s” boss called looking for him did the calls stop. “Oh, I’ve been getting his calls for years – usually teenage girls.” Oh to have been a fly on the wall when he and the boss did finally connect.

Anyway, in the last month I’ve been getting another round from a fresh source – three messages on my answering machine, including one left at 6 AM, plus plenty of collect calls. This woman owes someone money, and the people calling refuse to believe that I don’t know her.

It’s all quite annoying, but is also a very strong message: I will never, ever, EVER default on any sort of loan, even if it means a lifetime of Ramen noodles. Oh, yes, and cheap beer.

I was born in a smalltown...

I am in a galaxy far, far away, aka visiting my hometown. Much has changed since my last trip - the nicest restaurant in town (40 years and goingh strong) has closed. The place that always had great New Year's stuff is now Mexican and closed on weekends. The local swiming hole has been closed for years.

I am most touched by the changes - the Victorian mansion I always fantasized about fixing up is now a parking lot. The reataurant which housed fast food, pizza and subs is no more - but so many places still stand and are beautiful.

Yours in reverie...

A Harry Potter thought

With all of the hoopla, there does seem to be an interesting under-currrent. A handful of us have been on the Harry Potter bandwagon from the beginning. I showed up at my local bookstore to purchase #2 and #3 the morning that each went on sale, that's how far back I go. There are others ike me - we don't seem to mind that others love the books, but there does seem to be a vein of "welcome, but some of us have been here longer than you and don't you forget it."

An English prof from IUPUI was interviewed this morning on NPR, and expressed her doubts that these books would endure. With Ellen Glasgow still on my mind, I understand her thoughts, but I think she's dead wrong. Glasgow isn't the sort of book one reads to children or revisits in a childhood reverie. Rowling is. Oh, sure, she may not be the be-all and end-all in twenty years (forty, sixty) but neither is she the next Glasgow.

Counting the hours -

Harry Potter, the last

Midnight - MIDNIGHT - tomorrow.

I am beyond excited.

Lady Bird Johnson

Much has been said about LBJ in the days since her death. All of it seems to be positive, and I would hardly deny it of her. Certainly she made a difficult role her own, and following in Jackie Kennedy's shoes is not a position I think most of us would want.

Certainly Lady Bird Johnson did well in the role. The kind of controversy attracted by the actions of Nancy Reagan and Hillary Clinton did not attach to her. At the same time, I'm quite intrigued that not one of the blogs, articles or radio pieces I've stumbled across has mentioned LBJ's infidelities, or her patience in that area. Hillary Clinton could solve every problem in the Middle East and fix our national heath crisis, but her obituary will still mention Monica Lewinsky. Nancy Reagan's will mention astrology.

I'm not complaining or griping, just intrigued. Maybe it's the residual from the 1960s, pre-Watergate forgiveness factor, kicking in one last time.

for Harriet

When we were young and we were poor, Harriet bought me drinks, so I feel that I owe her. Heck, I'm still poor, but I still do feel that I owe her to the best of my ability to repay when not writing large checks for my student loan debts. Thus when she punts a meme my way, I feel obligated to respond - but this is a toughie.

The basic theme seems to be six things that no one know about you - I am a dull person, but let's see what I can do here.

1) For an in-class presentation I once set a piece of paper on fire. Yes, I did manage to wrangle an A without setting off the fire alarm.

2) I have never eaten a brussels sprout and do not feel that this is a element lacking in my life.

3) Neither have I ever eaten cottage cheese.

4) This blog was named in part after Pilgrim's Progress and a cartoon in The New Yorker with (what else) lemmings in it. Since then, TNY has run quite a few lemming cartoons and I compulsively save them all. I know absolutely nothing else about lemmings.

5) I believe that I live with a ghost. I've only seen him once, but he moves and drops things, opens doors and generally reminds me that he's here. I'm not afraid of him, but I do believe that he's here, keeping an eye on things.

6) Um.... it's red.

Sam is still acting oddly. The tests all came back fine, but as soon as he finished taking the pills, Sam went back to acting oddly. I wish that I could actually talk to him, have ten minutes of conversation, and find out just what's going on. Thanks to all who asked.

author update

Last week I blogged about two parts of a passage from Ellen Glasgow's 1911 work The Miller of Old Church. A friend e-mailed to comment that though she couldn't remember a single thing about Glasgow, she had a gut feeling that Glasgow had been a big name in her time.

I did a little digging, and found a biography from circa 1960 which indicatd that, yes indeed, she had been. The story starts out exactly as you would expect of the stereotypical lady novelist of her era: ill health as a child, read extensively in the family library, not very close to parents but very close to a sister, etc.

Then I learned that she came to reject religion as a young adult and wanted instead to promote the rising middle class through her fiction. Much of the religious ruminating I found hilarious was in fact supposed to be hilarious (I stand corrected) and that the various class aspects were intentional.

The biographer praised Glasgow's scenery descriptions (I agree) and her general enthusiasm for writing. Apparently in her day, Glasgow was in a league with Edith Wharton and Willa Cather.

All right, so what happened? Well, the bigrapher noted some of the problems I have - the prose and language are dated and while concepts are good, the storylines are thin and repatative.

It's the old challenge, really - which of the authors making a storm today will be around and known in fifty years time? Stephen King? Yes, I think so. J.K. Rowling? Permanently ensconsed. Helen Fielding? I'm not so sure.

my dog

I have more than I want to say about Ellen Glasgow (vaguely interesting!) but at the moment am sitting by the phone. Sam has been acting very oddly of late, so I took him in to see the vet yesterday. This was hot on the heels of what I assume was my first ever migraine headache, so it was quite a day.

The vet found no immidiate problems, but took some blood (not his favorite moment) and I should hear soon about the bloodwork.

He's probably fine. It's probably no more than, well.. he's not young any more. The vet and I ran through a long list of possible problems and came up with nothing.

Anyway, am distracted, sorry.

literature, part II

(quote continued)

the scent of the raw, dark earth and for the gleam of the yellow moonlight on the wet, rustling leaves.

Downright pornographic.

This longing may come in adolescence, or many times until the frost of age has withered the senses. It may come amid the showery warmth and the roving fragrance of an April day, or beside the shining, brown, leaf-strewen streams of November.

Men are, I guess, interesting creatures.

(Roving and showering?)

more great literature

It's a very long story why I ended up with this book in my hands and before my eyes instead of Nancy Drew.

Anyway, today's literary quotation comes from Ellen Glasgow's 1911 work, The Miller of Old Church. Think American Thomas Hardy, but racist. The story, set in Virginia, is actually quite good, with a few interesting plot twists... but there's a lot (and I do mean a lot) of of people just standing around and expostulating. The narrator expostulates a lot, too.

It is a mood that comes once to every man - to some men more frequently - a mood in which the prehistoric memory of the soul is stirred, and an intolerable longing arises for the ancient nomadic freedom of the race; when the senses surfeited by civilization cry out for the strong meat of the jungle

It goes on. Men long not just for jungles and nomadic freedom and strong meat but, apparently, also for pottage.

I do not pretend to understand men, much as I like, admire and appreciate them. This information, however, casts an entirely new light upon them.

further literary moments

Taken from The GHost of Blackwood Hall

Mrs. Putney looked at the jeweler. "I cannot speak in your presence," she said haltingly. "I was warned never to tell any man or woman of this matter."

"That's why brought you to a girl detective," the jeweler said quickly. You'll be breaking no confidences in telling Nancy everything."

Nancy Drew is eighteen (pretty much permanently.) She's only enough to vote, make porn, buy cigarettes, serve in the military, get married without parental consent, be thrown out of foster care - indeed, in some counties of Nevada she could work as a prostitute.

"Girl detective" ei yi yi!

well, of course, it was obvious, wasn't it?

In honor of summer vacation, I've been rereading books I know that I read as a kid, but which I do not remember at all. On my last library trip, I picked up several Nancy Drew mysteries, including Password to Larkspur Lane.

I give away none of the intricate plot details in this post, I assure you.

In Chapter One, a pigeon crash-lands in Nancy's yard. A humantarian, Nancy is concerned for the creature's physical safety and well-being. OK, I buy that - pigeons may be public annoyances, but neither do I wish death upon such creatures. Nancy, as a compassionate being taking care of defenseless creatures sets a good example for the impressionable readers, fine.

Following a quick examination of the bird (Nancy somehow knows that no bones have been broken) her first reaction is, and I quote: I'll wire the International Federation of American Homing Pigeon Fanciers and give them the number stamped on the bird's leg ring.

OK, so the idea of sending a telegram is quaint and now impossible - the book was written in 1933, revised in 1966, so that's a nice historical moment/ touch for 21st century readers. At the same time, WHAT eighteen year old knows to contact such a group? Knows what their ID badges look like? Even knows that they exist? Combines this with an in-depth knowlege of botany?

This is probably why I have not reread the book in a while - though the implausibility of the stories has actually been a lot of fun.

lemming as super-hero?

Ah, yes, well, back to work then.

Just as soon as I've run my blogroll, checked the BBC headlines... so many possible methods of procrastination.

Last night I dreamd that I had some sort of secret double-life as a Zorro-esque figure. I suspect that I wasn't a particualrly efficient heroine, as most of my dream took place in a Bat Cave, complete with (why not?) an automatic latte maker.

rest and relaxation

It was so delicious to wake up at 6:15 this morning, look at the clock and then roll over and sleep until 9:30. Would that summer classes did not exist. (Oh, yeah, there's that paycheck thing.) Anyway, am enjoying my lie-in time while I still can.

I've occasionally blogged about Precocious Neighborhood Child, she who can scatch Sam's ears so well that in under thirty seconds he is prepared to reveal his Swiss bank account information, violate National Security and possibly offer to bear her children.

We chatted today, and somehow I came to observe that the current president had once been a cheerleader. You could tell, from the look on her face, that she had contemplated him in a skirt with pom-poms and doubted my sanity. "No, really! He yelled through megaphones and was one of the guys who tossed the girls up in the air and caught them!" She still wasn't persuaded, even though she knows I'm the wacky neighborhood history professor.

food groups

I've just learned that one of the reasons why the Giant Armadillo is an endagered species is that people kill it for the meat.

I realize that this is not a sentence one often types or utters. Pandas are endangered, but we talk about them because they are cute and cuddly. These are not words I often use when discussing armadillos... not that it's a topic I often discuss anyway.

Here's the bit about this information that I still cannot figure out; who would ever look at an armadillo and think, "oh, lunch!"

catch-up

Sorry no posts for such a long time. It's been a long and exciting last week of classes - final exam week - grading period - trying to catch up on all of the matters ignored during this time. If the student loan folks had any mercy (I know, they don't) they would simply bill us double in June and leave us alone in April or May (we'd get to choose which.)

With warm weather firmly in place, Sam is in his element - treeing squirrels, hurling curse-word barking at the cat next door, and trying to herd me off onto as many walks as possible.

I've blogged before that I loathe I-465... would happily set Sam onto the designers of the on and off ramps (tiny! too close together!) but must report that when I try to negotiate it at 10:45 PM on a Sunday, it's almost manageable!

Dear Students,

You are tired. I am tired. You are about to take four exams - I am about to grade, well, rather a lot more than four. I want to be available and helpful to you. I deliberately do not have any visits to the doctor, dentist, hairdresser or psychic (kidding, but Professor Trelawny would be helpful at the moment) scheduled for this month. I will come ine arly and stay late - but I cannot schedule individually time-convinient exams for each of you. Nor will I reveal secret exam details. You also may not try to make up for your fifteen unexcused abscences by claiming that my "new dress" is nice.

Your exam will cover material you have seen and heard before. The folks who will fail already know that they will fail (15 missed classes will do that.) Go home, get some sleep, and I'll se you tomorrow.

hugs and kisses,
Prof lemming

post #500

Bumper sticker seen yesterday: If it weren't for physics and law enforcement I'd be unstoppable.

Am buried under unceasing mounds of papers, quizzes, exams, extra credit assignments, etc. I used to log how many papers I graded each day as part of my blog... in the last 24 hours it's well into the hundreds. (Some are longer than others, obviously!) I'll still be teaching this summer, but it will be a reduced load, with a new class added, and I'm looking forward to the change.

a sobering week

I confess that the shootings in Virginia have hit me close to home. You can't teach for more than a month without encountering at least one student who worries you. In my time I've had quite a few, and there's one about whom I still have nightmares. (If I turn up dead, his name is one that should be investigated. I'm serious.)

Education becomes so personal, so intimate and yet because of its cyclical nature, it's easy for faculty and staff (and administration) to hope that "if I just get through this semester, the problem will be over." The problem forgotten by faculty will almost certanly live on for the student - heck, I'm still annoyed at the unprofessionalism of a prof I endured my freshman year.

I teach in a building with stout doors, ones that lock when closed. Since Monday I have faithfully closed (and thus locked) them at the start of class. So what did I do today? When someone knocked at the door, I opened it.

after seeing the records for Sam's latest visit

Oh, you're here! Thank goodness. I am pleased. Mind you, it's about time you showed up.
Hi Sam! Good dog.
ooo, yes, scratch my ears.

Do you know what she did to me?
Huh?
That vet lady. Do you know what she did to me?
The shots? Yeah, I'm sorry, but it's a law, and really, it's better for you in the long run, particularly since you chase wild game.
That's not what I mean and you know it. I've had shots before.

Do you mean the bath? I know you hate water and all, but truly, you really were in need of one.
The bath is all right. The ladies scratch my ears and gve me biscuits. I'd rather just have the biscuits and the fur-dryer session, but I can handle it.

(long pause)

I'm sorry - you're an older dog and, well, sometimes a dog's gotta, um, be examined in certain ways.

I may sulk.
How about I let you finish my taco?
Oh, OK, I forgive you. Now, about those ducks...

fowl, take II

This time it was geese from our fair neighbor to the north and, fortunately for them, they chose the neighbor's yard. Sam did his best woofing, but they understood the concept of "fence."

My neighbors are out of town, but will not be happy when they return. I wonder if the geese understand the concept of "man who owns guns" nearly as well... or do they already have personal injury lawyers on their speed dials?

birds! raven and the crow - and the goose and the duck -

One of the aspects to living in the "big city" and its surroundng environs which does not cease to amaze me: the waterfowl. That is to say, there are a lot of them. Flocks. Flocks of flocks.

Last week I was stalked by two Canada Geese as I walked from my office to the car - obviously I was too close to something and had beeter leave right away. That, or produce food.

This morning a pair of mallards was very obviously scoping out my backyard for a nesting location. The male was obviously on guard duty and the female was methodically waddling through the bushes and undergrowth.

"All right, Sam! outside! Look, Sam - ducks!"
Oh! Ducks!

The backyard is now poultry free.

elevators

Ok, now I know that we're a much more informal society than we were in the past. The Internet makes us all more connected and intimate than we were in the past. The past, the past and the past.

I fear that we've lost our sense of circumspection in the process. This morning I had the world's longest elevator ride, during which I listened to a group of students discuss the various reasons (and there were several) why they didn't take the chair's class seriously, why he is an easy grader, and the various lies they told to get out of handing in today's homework.

Hello?! Faculty here! Wearing nylons and high heels and very much too old to be one of you! Circumspection?

Yours in hoping that there's some way in which I can take this as a compliment,
lemming

my kind of rock stars

SINGING twins THE PROCLAIMERS celebrated their first UK No 1 yesterday -
by washing shirts and undies.

Unlike other pop stars who throw wild parties after topping the charts,
the Scots stars cleaned their smalls.

CRAIG REID, 45, who performs with brother CHARLIE on Comic Relief single
(I'm Gonna Be) 500 Miles, confessed they had run out of clean clothes
after a hectic few weeks promoting the song.

After learning they had hit the top spot by a mile after 20 years of
trying, Craig loaded the washer.

He said: "I spent the afternoon washing and ironing.

"I've hardly been at home because we've been so busy. I had no clean
shirts or underwear left so I had to get a load on. We're off working
for another six days so there was no other time to do it."

But Craig, of Edinburgh, did plan to toast the No 1 with his family -
after the ironing.

He said: "I'll have a wee drink and that'll be it."

one for Bartlett's

"Rin-Tin-Tin was a movie star. I just have a slide show."
-Al Gore

OK, we could all go on and on about the science behind global warming, is he a hypocrite, is Gore truly living what he says... but you have to admit, this is a great line.

a mature dog learns a new trick

Yesterday Sam begged and pleaded to accompany me to campus. "All right, dog, why not? It won't be too terribly hot or cold."

This is what I get for hitting the snooze alarm instead of listening to the weather forecast. Sam was in the car when the thunder and lightening and driving rain hit, hit, hit, pounded, pelted and otherwise asaulted teh area. By the time I could get back to him, Sam lay curled into the smallest possible ball of fur, nose in his tail. As soon as we got home, he immidiately sprawled out on his sofa, fast asleep, not to be heard from for several hours.

Despite my lack of caffeine, I notice that when he heard the sound of car keys this morning, Sam promptly disappeared.

Editor's Note: actually posted on Tuesday...

Friday musings

I've been trying to remember what it was about the Attny. General that I didn't like during the confirmation hearings. I don't mean his politics or policies or anything like that (though I disagree with him there as well) but there was something about his as a person that really turned my stomach. Then I managed to forget all about him - out of sight, out of mind, figured he was doing his job. With all of the latest news coverage, my stomach turns again. At least he was doing a job. (said she with a groan)

Even if the Republicans had managed a majority in Congress, I still think we'd have something of a lame duck situation in place. Everyone is hanging on for the 2008 elections.

NPR did a great piece the other morning about the president's Latin America tour, noting that he mentioned food in nearly all of his speeches. Perhaps he is tired, too.

vocabulary words

Now please bear in mind that I did not choose the textbook which I am about to lampoon. It's a standard "all of our classes use this book and we've always used this book and so the department sticks with it for this class" so I use it. Such is life and who am I to dictate otherwise? It allows me to complain to the students about it as much as they do. (All textbooks are to a certain extent awful.)

I'm prepping for this morning's class, which includes looking over what the kids have to read for homework. (insert theme music) "yes, yes, yes - OK, OK, got it, got it, that will be fun to explain, oh yeah, I should remember to tell them that - effluents?

I don't pretend to be a wordsmith, but given that each of us has a vocabulary of several thousand words... this one is clear in context but new to me. Who the ^&(*%$& do the textbook authors think are their readers?

At any rate, this will give me an extra 30 seconds of class material.

note to self

When arriving at work, do not park next to the car which is the same make, model number and color as mine.

This morning I happened to grouse about Daylight Saving Time (Maine!!! we share a time zone with Maine!!) in the hearing of a little boy, maybe eight years old. "Yeah," he replied, "that's Governor Darkness for you."

typical Monday

I put on a new pair of stockings at 6:30 AM.

By 10 AM, they had runs in both legs.

The British call stocking runs "ladders" which I've always thought a more accurate (and amusing) description.

book meme

I swiped this from Harriet - in case you wondered what to get me for my birthday... "People will insist upon giving me books." Harriet noted that it's a funny list, but I always enjoy looking at these - gives me ideas. (Most Harry Potters but only one Narnia)

Bold = books you've read?
italics = books you wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole or wish you hadn't


1. The Davinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3.To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13.Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True(Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant) gift from a student
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. The Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela's Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck) Never again!!!
50. She's Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51.The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card)
54.Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood) blew my mind
60. The Time Traveller�s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)

Two Ayn Rand novels?

63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65.Fifth Business (Robertson Davis) incredible book
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69 Les Miserables (Hugo)
70.The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery) (French and English)
71. Bridget Jones' Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje) (I need to as I love the film)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77.A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78.The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79.The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80.Charlotte's Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard's First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)Even Austen screws up sometimes
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)

Would like to read this one - I sense a library run in my future

98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100.Ulysses (James Joyce)

Not even if it was the last book on earth...

life in the fast lane

What with all of the nasty weather we've had of late, I am the last (and I do mean the last) to disparage someone driving slowly when it's dark, the roads are slick, etc.

However when the roads are clear, the sun is shining and I'm running late, I have little patience for people who drive 40 m.p.h. in a 55 zone. It's called a "speed limit sign" - have you looked at it lately?

Perhaps my Lenten resolution should have been to have patience with such people (OK, that will be next year.) The problem is that these drivers force the line of cars beind them (ten by my count today) to make a decision not perhaps best made early on a Monday morning; to pass or not to pass? Do we chance the head-on collision associated with passing? (Depends upon how late we're running, I suspect.) At the same time, at what point does the slow driver have a responsibility to pull over and allow the line of cars to pass by before resuming their speed? Assuming that this (twenty-something) woman had a reason for going fifteen miles under the speed limit (transmisson? low on gas?) shouldn't she notice all of the cars passing and pull over?

This subject was not, to the best of my memory, covered in Driver's Ed.

On another note: I have not seen any of the Oscar-nminated films. I have no doubt that Last King of Scotland is terrific. I still wish that Peter O'Toole had won Best Actor, after SEVEN previous nominations.

two firsts

Everything is starting to melt, which of course means that the streets are safe, but the sidewalks are a mess of black ice. This is the time of year when I wonder why I like Indiana so much.

It was an exciting weekend, and I experienced two unexpected firsts: a pedicure (my feet feel so clean!) and I finallyheard "Thriller." Yes, somehow I managed to be alive during the 1980s and miss this song. Oh, I knew "Billie Jean" and various other hits off that album, but I'd missed the title track.

My reaction to "Thriller" bears a striking resemblence to my reaction the first time I heard "Hit Me Baby One More Time" - this is it?

Speaking of which, Ms Spears is selling her hair on eBay, or so I am told by persons hipper than I. I do hope someone is around to catch her when she finally crashes.

swift as a coursing river

I woke up this morning with a horrible pit-of-the-stomach feeling that my class outline for today sucked. No amount of good humor or "yes, I hate the textbook too" would help. Crap. Crap crap crap and several other swear words

on the drive to work, reconfigured the whole thing in my mind, and then kicked some serious teacher butt.

Bear in mind that I am not "qualified" to teach college classes full time.

On a happier note, the roads are clear. I have been so impressed by the Indianapolis road crews over the last three days - I helped by staying off the roads (my first snow day in how many years?!) while they strapped snow-plows to garbage trucks and kept the roads clear.

A spcial thanks to the woman who helped push me out of teh frozen slush today. What can I say, I had an urge to recycle...

yet another post about Indiana weather

The snow started sometime last night and kept right on going. I credit the road crews; at about 6 AM my street was plowed, presumably salted, and if I had suffered from a serious need (hospital, prescription refill, etc.) I probably could have made it to the main road and thus to the Walgreens. It would have been a slow trip, and I'd have prayed the entire way that I didn't see any other cars, but possible.

Then the freezing rain started in, the wind started blowing - the streets are covered again, and a step outside means thousands of needles slapping into your bare skin. Sam (who at least has fur) dashed outside and back inside in somehing less then twenty seconds.

Much of Indianapolis seems to have wisely chosen (or been ordered) to stay at home ans off the streets. At least we knew this was coming and could plan accordingly. Alas, this is terrifc weather to stay inside and grade papers, something I can do just as well either here or at the office.

from the trenches

As is typical for this time of the semester, I have students who are ghosts - they show up on my roster, but have yet to attend a class, turn in an assignment or otherwise make themselves known.

It is a relief to tell the bureaucrats to cut them - a few less exams to grade, reports to file, homeworks to pile up.

Yet I wonder why, what happened, could it have been stopped, and my worries now carry extra weight in light of my own life. I got lost in the shuffle, in the larger world of four PhDs who forgot about me, ignored me, didn't remember that I told them I needed something. Did these folks get lost? Did they feel ignored? Or were they just so caught up in being young and foolish that they didn't belong in college in the first place? Far too may of these folks are locals - did they go home too often, watch the Colts and forget about class? IS it s local problem? An Indiana problem? Does my teaching style induce amnesia?

No Child Left Behind has left behind the best 25% and the worst 25% and focused upon the middle half who can get through, pass a test and not rock the boat. How do we teach the need to go the extra mile?

the coffee pots

I'm still trying to work out the coffee pot ettiquette. The very benevolent woman who runs the department (i.e. the administrative assistant) is very assiduous about firing up the pots the moment she arrives in the building, sometimes even befroe she takes off her coat. She knows that some of us will need it... the question is, at what point do I make another pot? I assume that most of the coffee drinking takes place before noon, even on the coldest and snowiest of days. I also know that my need for a hit at 6 AM is other people's 2 PM addiction.

This is also an issue, as I've noticed that many folks take the last cup from the pot, but do not make another. Is this a rule? Is the administrator the only one allowed to make the coffee? Do we have a specific monthly (weekly?) ration and she doles it out?

If it is rationed, I say we take the extra out of the salary of the man with the office next to mine. He keeps spilling.

Rex & Peyton

Is the weekend over? Thanks goodness. Yay Colts, poor Bears (Rex Grossman can be so good and yet not so good, all at once) but I do love a local happy ending. I passed myself off as truly informed at the coffee pots this morning. I devoutly hope that the Pacers do not make the play-offs, as I don't think I could take the further strain.

Meanwhile, may I just say that I kicked some serious teaching butt today, even among the hungover masses. In fact, yes, I can say it and I just did. I love my job and to **** with my ex-committee members.

Meanwhile, I have finally heard a Brittney Spears song on the radio. Eh? This is what all of the fuss is about?

football redux

lemming: I mean, I'm pretty clueless and all, but I think the Colts stand a good chance of not totally blowing the Super Bowl.

fellow academic: Right. I mean, it's not as though the Pariots have won the Super Bowl lately.

Yours in having done her Super Bowl pop culture research,
l

Colts Post III

In Sign #6.5 of the impending apacolypse (sorry, John B. but it's true!) I purchased a newspaper yesterday for the express purpose of reading the sports section, or at least as much of it as pertains to the Colts. What did I find? A quote from the coach aboutManning. (rolls eyes)

I think I have all of my pop culture bits down now, thanks to my assiduous cram session. If in line at the grocery store or standing around the coffee pot, I have enough trivia so that I can blend in. (We have a new second departmental coffee pot! Two of 'em! Such luxury!)

another Colts post - from me, no less!

I've been actively looking for more on Coach Dungy (thanks, Nomo, I did see that piece, but you're sweet to mention it) but still think that more should be said (or at least sound-bitten) about him. There's an old trope even I know about which says that when a team loses, it is the fault of the coach, but when they win, the players should get the congratulations. I guess I'm looking for more of a city-wide "hurrah!" toward the coach (coaches, trainers, physical therapists, support staff, etc.) rather than the latest update on Peyton Manning's thumb.

Long-time - heck, even short-time - visitors to this blog know that my interest in football is casual at best, though I am very pleased and proud of the Colts (hey! and the Pacers! they had a good game!) With all of the blue flags, window hangings, t-shirts, and whatnot that I see around here, I am surprised that so few places seem to have them for sale. I'd don a t-shirt or wave a flag if I had one, yet the local grocery stores and ye audle bigge boxxe storees do not seem to have anything other than Colts-emblazoned beer. Whiel it might be fun to walk about all day with a Colts beer can in my hand, it doe stend to cut down on that appearance of professionalism...

a potentially heretical statement

Ok, OK, yes, I'm happy for the Colts. Yes, the comeback was quite impressive. Believe it or not, I even watched part of the game and understood it. (No, it wasn't the commercials, thank-you very much.) Peyton Manning seems like a great guy and, to my delight, even speaks in complete sentences when interviewed.

Why (and I am serious in this question) is it that none of the commentators I've heard/ read/ seen have commented upon the Colts coach? I assume he is at least partially responsible for this season's achievements, but I couldn't give his you his name if my life depended upon it. Apart from his race, I know nothing about the coach, no one ever seems to mention him - ???

the rule of dogs

Hey there.
I'm busy, Sam.

Hey.
What is it, dog?
Oh, nothing....

Hey.
Sam - out?
Oh, don't mind me.

Hey.
Sam, I love you deeply, but I'm busy. What is it that you want>
Oh, well, if you're busy...

Hey.
Sam, you are supposed to be my canine companion, not some sort of mind-game generative (insert several other multi-syllabic words only suitable for such occasions as these)
Well, if you're going to be like that, all right, I think I'd like to go outside and bark at the squirrels for a while.

Yeah, thought so.

Who, me?

if we took the bones out...

I'm working on some upcoming homework assignments.

They need enough leeway for the frightened freshmen, hiding in the middle row, but also for the bright ones to have fun and that I can catch the cheaters without too much searching.

At the same time, I like slightly quirky assignments, ones that might inspire a few extra jokes from the students or at least keep me amused. I'm thinking of something having to do with time travel or fairylands.

I suspect that this flight of fancy has something to do with my residual feelings about Helen Hill, but the greyness of Indiana winter doesn't help much. There's no harm in a little escapism, is there? (I hope)

Helen Hill

One of the blogs to which I link is written by Editor B. B and his wife, Xy, were flooded out by Hurricane Katrina, but returned to New Orleans as soon as they could.

If you've listened to NPR in the last few days, you've heard about the latest round of murder in the city, and about the rallies being held. Helen Hill sounds like the kind of woman I wish I could have known; her husband survived the attack, while wrapping his body around their toddler, a literal human sheild.

B and XY knew Helen Hill; he's written several entries in the last week. They're not easy reads, but probably some of the most important pieces I will read all year. His memories of Hill and observations on the city and her problems should be required reading for - well, fill in the blank with a good long list.

RIP.

Historian Arrested for jay-walking

I grant you that the article does show a bit of bias in favor of the professor in question. Nonetheless, it's an interesting insight into the Atlanta legal system through the eyes of a foreign scholar.

You've Got to Start Somewhere

A Public Service Announcement:

it's = it is

its = ownership.

This is probably the most common mistake writers of English (be it student papers, blogs or what have you) make in their everyday prose.

Now, for those of us who are simply chattering away and get it wrong, all right. We should (and do) know better, but OK. However I expect better things from publishing. In rereading Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz last night, I observed that it's was always used to show ownership, even though it is wrong, wrong, wrong. L.Frank Baum didn't do this - it's some (insert swear word) editor who figured that this author person has been dead for 90 years and didn't know what he was doing at the time.

"It's a lovely day." = It is a lovely day.

"The Colts are getting a new stadium and it's terrific." = The Colts are getting a new stadium and it is terrific (meanwhile I use the pile of dirt as a navigational landmark.)

"I have a new calendar. Its pictures are all funny." = I have a new calendar. The pictures which belong to it (ITS, people, no apostrophe!) are reasonably amusing.

the positive and the negative

In line at the grocery store (no liquor sales tomorrow, must stock up now) I stood behind a mother and daughter pair, the daughter maybe eight years old. The mother had a copy of the local paper in hand, complete with "Hussein Hanged" headline. She was trying, with far more patience than I feel at the moment, to explain to her child just who this person was, why executed, etc. "Well, all right, but what does he have to do with the war? Is this like the airplanes and the big buildings in New York?"

The execution accomplished naught except pleasing some people and creating a martyr for others. I suppose that's a positive.

On a happier note, I've just stumbled across a truly wonderful blog, oz and ends by a historian who also writes (and obviously loves_ children's literature. Any blog stumble that results in twenty minutes of reading is obviously a keeper.

If I don't make it on line tomorrow, a very Happy new year to one and all. Wishing us joy, laughter and peace in 2007.

one of the last of the good men

I've always had a soft spot for Gerald Ford.

In a world of political chaos and treachery, Ford strove to rise above the fray, protect the nation and never mind the expense to his own political career or ambitions. How many people would describe a call to the presidency as a duty? as a part of civic responsibility? GWB feels "called by God" and WJC worked for decades to reach the Oval Office but that's not the same thing.

Ford was one of the last of the good guys and a dog lover to boot. A very sincere RIP to a man who did a very hard job to the very best of his ability and certainly far better than I would have coped under a more generous set of historical events.

happiness!

I heard it! I heard it! I heard it!

All I want for Christmas...

Now I can go back to thinking of Mariah Carey as a very bizarre and flawed talent.

a happier note

Speaking of holiday music, as we've been, I've been trying to sing one of my favorite songs of the season in the car. The problem is that "Jesus Child" by John Rutter is written for four parts and, alas, I do not have an alto, tenor and bass along with me for these trips.

"Jesus Child" is written to be sung at a very fast "spit out the consonants" tempo and if you lose concentration for even a moment you'll be behind for the next five pages. Thus it is a glorious fun to ride the musical wave of knowing that you are at exactly the right point, know which notes are next and when you get to make a brief gasp. It's difficult to learn, but just a glorious joyride of a piece to sing once you've learned it.

I did hear Adam Sandler's "Hannukah Song" on the radio yesterday; not nearly as good as his one about Thanksgiving.

regional Christmas

I'm becoming quite envious of Harriet's Christmas experience. I heard (scanned past) "Little Drummer Boy" four times this morning, electing instead to listen to the BBC coverage of the conclusion of the Diana investifation, which is at least cheerful. Meanwhile Harriet obviously only hears the song occasionally, but has had it up to here with Mariah Carey.

Not only does she have these musical advantages, but she lives around people with strange ideas about creche displays. (A Homer Simpson theme?)

Quite a few folks around here set up their glow-up outdoor creches the day after Thanksgiving. They will take them down on December 26. I think they're mostly pretty ugly, but rarely amusing.

Maybe it's the history teacher in me (OK, it is) but let's have a little accuracy here. Mary and Joseph only got to Bethlehem the night of Jesus' birth. The shepherds didn't come to teh stable until after Jesus was born and the angels gave them a quick heads up. The Wise Men didn't start out on their epic trip until they saw the star in the east and there's no star until after Jesus' birth.

Ergo, the only creatures in the stable as of December 13 should be the animals.

Then there's the issue of was Jesus really born on December 25, because shepherds wouldn't have been in the fields with lambs until spring... oh, never mind.

I am a grinch of music

That does it!!!!

If I hear "Little Drummer Boy" once more I shall scream, and I don't mean that in a rhetorical, ironic or otherwise over used cliche sense.

The song its self is fine - all gifts that we have are important, little things can bring even more joy than big thngs (much of the time, anyway... still waiting to find out how happy that that diamond tennis bracelet might make me) and "rum pum pum pum" is probaby more scintillating as lyrics go for the folks who get stuck with the harmony.

The problem is that it's been recorded by everyone and their Uncle Fred.

Have I heard "All I Want For Christrmas is You" yet? Of course not. It's all "rum pum pum pum." One Mariah Carey moment as I grade papers, is that too much to ask?

rum pum pum pum

for what it's worth, it was worth all the while

The semester is winding down. There's a frantic scramble amomng some students to catch up with last minute details, while others have worked ahead and can calmly anticipate the exam. The quiet kids (why is it always the quiet kids?!) are coming out of the woodwork to say that they love my class and what will I teach next semester?

(No clue.)

The bottom feeders and ankle biters are trying to rouse my sympathies, patience and indulgence, sometimes indulgences.

I love the seasonal aspect of teaching. We build up to mid-terms, rest for a moment, then race to exams, before collapsing into the wonderful holiday embrace, be it Christmas or the fun of summer vacation. A series of sprints, in a sense, I suppose, but it's also a long-distance trek. Long after my young 'uns have returned home or started logging extra hours at work, I will be reading and reading their final work, calculating and recalculating their grades.

It's rare for me to be satisfied, but I am satisfied with this semester. Remind me again how having a Ph.D. would make it any better?

OK, job security - but other than that? I have done well and so have they.

sudden discoveries

While looking through a desk drawer, I found an uneaten Cadbury Cream Egg.

Elderly? Maybe. Delicious? You betcha.

famous last words

Tomorrow should be the easiest, funniest, most enjoyable teaching day of the semester. I have depth and breadth in everything I must discuss and lecture upon, and plenty of canned jokes besides.

This probably means total classroom failure, but I am an optimist.

By the by, I've had the chance to use one of my favorite lines on several occasions recently. I try hard to present historical figures in a neutral light. "Well, lemming was a sneak, a liar and a murderer" sounds dreadful, but if you add a few details, plus throw in the observation that I'm fond of my mother or encouraged the Visigoths to invent central plumbing or told Warren Harding that his Cabinet was corrupt, well, it sounds better.

One of my classes is on to me. I'll try to prevaricate, combining the positive with the negative and they'll pause. "So, lemming was a dreadful person who deserved a painful death," one of them will observe. "Well," I casually say, "I'd have phrased it more gracefully myself..." I stole this line. I claim no credit - but I do deliver it well.

(ego ego ego ego)

Still no word if my contract has been renewed for spring semester.

and what a lovely morning!

I was surprised to discover a full classroom the morning before Thanksgiving break - surely at least a few of them would leave early for break? No. I do notice that, now that we're all back, attendance has dropped. I think they're every bit as tired as I.

seasonal music

Jason has spent the past few weeks in eager preparation for playing as much Christmas music as possible immidiately if not sooner. As long as I don't spend too much time in malls or drug stores during the next few weeks, I'll share his enthusiasm. There's a sufficient variety of seasonal music out there that, if done right, you will will hear a little bit of everything over the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

At the same time, it does seem a pity that we don't have a few traditional Thanksgiving tunes. I've been wracking my brains (too much time in the car today - 200 miles) and I've only come up with two: the university football team fight song of your choice and the hymn "We Gather Together."

I know the words (most of them) to two U fight songs, UMich and Georgia Tech. Both a nice, rousing "yay team" tunes, but neither mentions turkey or family.

"We Gather" starts out well - "We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing" OK, that's good. Then then we get "He hastens and chastens His will to make known." I've had plenty of hastening and chastening this year and am no closer to knowing His will. "The wicked oppressing" - eeek! Quickly we enter less cozy territory. Are there any seasonal tunes that are a tad more, well, positive? Thankful?

marks on a page

I'm one of those people who writes in books - underlines critical phrases, asterisks main arguments, etc. It's pretty much impossible to get through graduate school without adopting some sort of marking up habits and after you start grading papers and exams, well, the compulsion to comment on everything written becomes hard to overcome. I loved my 19th century British Lit class in college, but I never would have gotten through Vanity Fair (which I loved!) without notes to myself as to what on earth all of those obscure words and phrases meant. (Probably less obscure 100 years ago, or had I been older, but no matter.)

I also tend to mark up textbooks these days, if only to help myself remember what it is that I want the class to discuss next week. One of the books I'm using at the moment (not of my selection) has downright beautiful illustrations even if the authors deserve to be taken out back and beaten with my old copy of Vanity Fair for their appalling prose and lack of detailed explanation of major points.

Last night I think I committed an unforgiveable sin - I started doodling and drawing pictures in the margins, filling up every available milimeter of space with squiggles and inter-connected triangles. This did nothing to inhence my unedrstanding of the authors' intentions or improve my teaching, but it did make the time go more quickly.

of animals with tails

I don't know a great deal about squirrels, and most of what I do know is as a result of watching Sam chase them. He's spent a busy afternoon stalking them around the back yard. I am convinced that they laugh behind their paws as they scamper toward acorns and away from him.

Lots of squirrels live in the neighborhood trees - I haven't personally counted all of them, though I'm sure Sam has. Most are ordinary looking, but one is unusually small, not much bigger than a mouse. For a long time I thought I must be imagining, that it was just a chipmunk with long fur. Following further conversation with neighbors, I've learned that several of us have seen it and all assumed that we were hallucinating, etc. Right now it's perched outside my window, staring at me (and, presumably, Sam) in a manner best descrbed as saucy.

At least I know it's for real!

no Cassandra am I

rarely have I been so pleased about being wrong.

I still stand by the Whig Party comparison - all right, you're the opposition, now what will you do with it?

I should hear in the next two weeks as to whether or not my evaluation went well. One of my adjunct gigs is mine for life, pretty much, but I'd like ot keep the other as well.

Meanwhile Sam is chasing squirrels.

a prediction

The Republicans will retain control of both the House and the Senate.

I base this prognostication upon the BBC reports. In 2004, the BBC reporteres were confident that John Kerry would win. Now they are confident that Congress will enter the hands of the Democrats.

As the Whig party found out in the 19th century, a platform which consists of "I am opposed to the party in power" just isn't enough.

I was wondering what the "eek" could be about, and then it occurred to me: you hate to be embarrassed by your department chair getting down on the floor, hugging your ankles, smooching your feet, and crying over and over, "We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"

Oh, Bartleby, would that such were possible!

The chair is one of the nicest people I've met in a long time and word through the grapevine is that while he won't be casual or perfunctory in his evaluation, I shouldn't lose sleep over it.

At the same time, said chair is best described as "inscrutable." In other words, he's hard to read. Therein lies the source of my neurosis. Naturally, he has opted to attend the class about which I am least confident. On the other hand, the students (to my astonishment and delight) do seem to not only pay attention, but to retain the material, sometimes better than I.