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.