"Scalia," Sunny said. She meant something like, "It doesn't seem like the literal interpretation makes any sense," but her siblings did not think it was wise to translate.
-The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snickett, page 268
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Roses and Pandas
Jeanne has rewarded me for commenting on her blog. It feels rather odd, still, to comment on her blog, when I think back to her commenting upon my papers all these years ago, but no matter. My thanks for the honor.
I'm in the usual seasonal dash to read the long papers, plow through the exams, battle between my conscience and the result calculated by a spreadsheet, knowing how clearly I remember every grade on my own college transcript. Perhaps it's all of these academic battles that have me realizing how befuddled I am by the Lancaster arm of English history, so I have been trying to straighten out some of my confusion. (Jeanne, have you read In a Dark Wood Wandering?) I think reading that in March is where it all got started.
For obvious reasons, what I am teaching these days has nothing at all to do with the House of Lancaster, which may explain my attraction to it. I dislike the assigned textbook I've been reading for the next round of classes (it is a textbook only because it is assigned and is a book, it's not a textbook per say) so the Lancastrians are a palate cleanser. I've been digging about for a suitable Victoria Holt novel from the period to fill the need to brush up on history while relax at the end of the day.
For the record, the hell-spawn devil's imp feline made two attempts in less than thirty-six hours to escape and has been returned to safety, despite my fleeting hopes for his speedy demise. Well, not hopes... truly, I don't wish him ill, just declawed.
I'm in the usual seasonal dash to read the long papers, plow through the exams, battle between my conscience and the result calculated by a spreadsheet, knowing how clearly I remember every grade on my own college transcript. Perhaps it's all of these academic battles that have me realizing how befuddled I am by the Lancaster arm of English history, so I have been trying to straighten out some of my confusion. (Jeanne, have you read In a Dark Wood Wandering?) I think reading that in March is where it all got started.
For obvious reasons, what I am teaching these days has nothing at all to do with the House of Lancaster, which may explain my attraction to it. I dislike the assigned textbook I've been reading for the next round of classes (it is a textbook only because it is assigned and is a book, it's not a textbook per say) so the Lancastrians are a palate cleanser. I've been digging about for a suitable Victoria Holt novel from the period to fill the need to brush up on history while relax at the end of the day.
For the record, the hell-spawn devil's imp feline made two attempts in less than thirty-six hours to escape and has been returned to safety, despite my fleeting hopes for his speedy demise. Well, not hopes... truly, I don't wish him ill, just declawed.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
pop culture still lives
On Friday night, April 17, 2009, I heard Michael Jackson's "Thriller" all the way through for the first time.
I wouldn't have known that it was "Thriller" had I not been told - not some of his clearest diction...
I wouldn't have known that it was "Thriller" had I not been told - not some of his clearest diction...
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
academics are goofy creatures
"I mean, I just don't understand these people who strengthen their self-identification through listing their accomplishments. 2.5 kids, house in the suburbs, who cares? that's not who you really are."
"Oh, I don't know - when you introduced yourself it was with your name, degrees, institutions and latest publication. What's the intellectual difference? You've just offered me a self-definition through a particular sub-set of academic qualifications and accomplishments, and you asked for mine."
What I really should have done was to start competing on the grounds of the extent of our student loan debt. (laughter)
"Oh, I don't know - when you introduced yourself it was with your name, degrees, institutions and latest publication. What's the intellectual difference? You've just offered me a self-definition through a particular sub-set of academic qualifications and accomplishments, and you asked for mine."
What I really should have done was to start competing on the grounds of the extent of our student loan debt. (laughter)
Monday, April 06, 2009
first post for April
It's snowing outside. Snowing, I tell you. People will be grumbling about global warming as fallacy and conspiracy today; best to stay inside.
Speaking of conspiracies - documentation to prove that Paris was liberated in 1944 by white troops has been released. There's a reason by colonialism's shadow still looms large on teh International Stage.
The Voyeur was attracted by my skirt as it swished by and drew blood on my leg with his claws. After I learned that declawing a cat means removing the feline equivalent of a knuckle, I changed my ideas about it, but the Voyeur is, well, maybe he's a special case.
Speaking of conspiracies - documentation to prove that Paris was liberated in 1944 by white troops has been released. There's a reason by colonialism's shadow still looms large on teh International Stage.
The Voyeur was attracted by my skirt as it swished by and drew blood on my leg with his claws. After I learned that declawing a cat means removing the feline equivalent of a knuckle, I changed my ideas about it, but the Voyeur is, well, maybe he's a special case.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
of cats and men
The Voyeur should consider himself lucky if he survives the week. I do not pretend that my furniture is anything special, but he's doing quite a number on it. This is a battle of wills between me and a creature who does not contribute financially to the household. I marvel at the patience shown by you veteran cat co-habitators.
The historian John Hope Franklin has died, after nearly a century of making the field look easy. Plenty of obituaries and rememberences have already been recorded, and I'm sure that the OAH and AHA will get their in (and plenty of follow-ups) over the weeks, months and years to come. (Historians are not always prompt.) What impressed and impresses me most about Franklin is his willingness, nay, enthusiasm, t be a teacher and to give his students every possible assistance. The ivory tower pays lip service to the importance of good teaching, of being a mentor, of genuinely cultivating the next generation, but the true investment is not often made. Franklin invested and, unlike AIG, his dividends will only increase in value.
The historian John Hope Franklin has died, after nearly a century of making the field look easy. Plenty of obituaries and rememberences have already been recorded, and I'm sure that the OAH and AHA will get their in (and plenty of follow-ups) over the weeks, months and years to come. (Historians are not always prompt.) What impressed and impresses me most about Franklin is his willingness, nay, enthusiasm, t be a teacher and to give his students every possible assistance. The ivory tower pays lip service to the importance of good teaching, of being a mentor, of genuinely cultivating the next generation, but the true investment is not often made. Franklin invested and, unlike AIG, his dividends will only increase in value.
Monday, March 23, 2009
a quiet peace
The son of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes Nicholas Hughes has taken his own life.
It's often said that children of celebrities bear additional burdens simply by virtue of their DNA; here that DNA presents a double whammy. Plath is an icon to so many - and so many are still angry at Ted Hughes for the breakdown of their marriage. Their children have carried such a challenge through life, and seem to have managed it in quiet and with dignity.
Hughes must have known that in ending his own life that the comparisons with and commentary on his mother would increase. Even in misery and death, the poor man isn't "Nicholas;" he's the son of poets with emotional problems and an aura of literary celebrity.
Is - now was.
It's often said that children of celebrities bear additional burdens simply by virtue of their DNA; here that DNA presents a double whammy. Plath is an icon to so many - and so many are still angry at Ted Hughes for the breakdown of their marriage. Their children have carried such a challenge through life, and seem to have managed it in quiet and with dignity.
Hughes must have known that in ending his own life that the comparisons with and commentary on his mother would increase. Even in misery and death, the poor man isn't "Nicholas;" he's the son of poets with emotional problems and an aura of literary celebrity.
Is - now was.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
advice requested
The Voyeur is an adult male cat, neutered, and the alpha of his pack. he's established that Sam is not a threat, but that the dog still outranks him.
I can handle the late night concerts and the tendency to be underfoot, but he deliberately pees in inappropriate locations, particularly when I am watching. Shoes I can wash and carpets can be cleaned, but he's attacking library books.
Any ideas?
(Is it felicide to murder a cat?)
I can handle the late night concerts and the tendency to be underfoot, but he deliberately pees in inappropriate locations, particularly when I am watching. Shoes I can wash and carpets can be cleaned, but he's attacking library books.
Any ideas?
(Is it felicide to murder a cat?)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
a multi-tasking holiday
Quoting Mass Moments eMoment :
...in 1901, the City of Boston officially celebrated Evacuation Day for the first time. In early March of 1776, Continental troops managed to move heavy cannon to the top of Dorchester Heights. When the British realized what had happened, they knew they could no longer hold the capital. The lowly Continental Army forced the British to evacuate Boston. One hundred and twenty-five years later, the Mayor proclaimed March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, a legal holiday. The city could commemorate an important historical event — George Washington's first victory in the American Revolution — and celebrate its place as "the capital of Irish America." Even today, schools and government offices are closed on March 17th in Boston and Suffolk County.
(c)2009 Massachusetts Foundation for the Humanities. All rights reserved.
http://www.massmoments.org/index.cfm
...in 1901, the City of Boston officially celebrated Evacuation Day for the first time. In early March of 1776, Continental troops managed to move heavy cannon to the top of Dorchester Heights. When the British realized what had happened, they knew they could no longer hold the capital. The lowly Continental Army forced the British to evacuate Boston. One hundred and twenty-five years later, the Mayor proclaimed March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, a legal holiday. The city could commemorate an important historical event — George Washington's first victory in the American Revolution — and celebrate its place as "the capital of Irish America." Even today, schools and government offices are closed on March 17th in Boston and Suffolk County.
(c)2009 Massachusetts Foundation for the Humanities. All rights reserved.
http://www.massmoments.org/index.cfm
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday monday
As of noon, March will be half-over, thank goodness.
The Voyeur has taken to indoor dumpster diving, i.e. digging through the trash can. When Sam does this it is to express his displeasure at being left alone too many time too often. The Voyeur does this because it is his right. The Voyeur is wearing his welcome and my patience thin.
The Vampire still avoid me and the Enigma quietly examines her surroundings. Only when I take corned beef out of the refrigerator does she react. Perhaps she's Irish?
Thought for the day: Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do. - Jean-Paul Satre
The Voyeur has taken to indoor dumpster diving, i.e. digging through the trash can. When Sam does this it is to express his displeasure at being left alone too many time too often. The Voyeur does this because it is his right. The Voyeur is wearing his welcome and my patience thin.
The Vampire still avoid me and the Enigma quietly examines her surroundings. Only when I take corned beef out of the refrigerator does she react. Perhaps she's Irish?
Thought for the day: Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do. - Jean-Paul Satre
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
back and better
Long time no blog. Again.
I have a theory that much of the nation spent December and January in a state of anticipation, holding on by our very fingernails until the presidential hand-off. Then the hangover hit and we realized that matters went from dreadful to - well, what's worse than dreadful? - and we all spent February in dreadful moods.
Anyway, I didn't want to do yet another post about how tired I am of winter, so I've been quiet and tried to take life on its own terms.
Thanks to all who asked after Sam; though his deafness is official, the meds are keeping him spry and very active. Last night something did not please either his eyes or his nose and he gave the fence line a long, hard bark. It's been a good long while since he did this, so I let him bark his heart out.
Lemming headquarters has been temporarily augmented by the addition of three cats. Sam has adapted quite well, though he is baffled that they leave food in their dishes after meals and that I won't allow him to eat it. "The Vampire" seems content to stay out of my way. He mostly emerges from his cave after I go to bed, so we have very little contact. "The Voyeur" is a constant source of trouble. I am accustomed to a dog, one who knows better than to jump on countertops and who does not relieve himself on household items to express his inner feelings. The third one, whom I think has the most personality, spent three days thoroughly examining headquarters, only to decide that the windows provide far better options for entertainment than watching me grade essays.
As research for my new lifestyle, I have been rereading mysteries from the Cat Who series. One of these years I need to read all twenty-two books in order, as skipping about means that I lose track of who is now dead, who has gone insane, who has switched jobs, etc.
One aspect to Lilian Jackson Braun's books that I do admire is that she sneaks in the occasional vocabulary word, foreign language phrase or food term that forces me to the dictionary. As economizing means less fancy dining, it is fun to drool over her menus of fish, crab, beef with mushrooms, cheeses...
Excuse me.
I have a theory that much of the nation spent December and January in a state of anticipation, holding on by our very fingernails until the presidential hand-off. Then the hangover hit and we realized that matters went from dreadful to - well, what's worse than dreadful? - and we all spent February in dreadful moods.
Anyway, I didn't want to do yet another post about how tired I am of winter, so I've been quiet and tried to take life on its own terms.
Thanks to all who asked after Sam; though his deafness is official, the meds are keeping him spry and very active. Last night something did not please either his eyes or his nose and he gave the fence line a long, hard bark. It's been a good long while since he did this, so I let him bark his heart out.
Lemming headquarters has been temporarily augmented by the addition of three cats. Sam has adapted quite well, though he is baffled that they leave food in their dishes after meals and that I won't allow him to eat it. "The Vampire" seems content to stay out of my way. He mostly emerges from his cave after I go to bed, so we have very little contact. "The Voyeur" is a constant source of trouble. I am accustomed to a dog, one who knows better than to jump on countertops and who does not relieve himself on household items to express his inner feelings. The third one, whom I think has the most personality, spent three days thoroughly examining headquarters, only to decide that the windows provide far better options for entertainment than watching me grade essays.
As research for my new lifestyle, I have been rereading mysteries from the Cat Who series. One of these years I need to read all twenty-two books in order, as skipping about means that I lose track of who is now dead, who has gone insane, who has switched jobs, etc.
One aspect to Lilian Jackson Braun's books that I do admire is that she sneaks in the occasional vocabulary word, foreign language phrase or food term that forces me to the dictionary. As economizing means less fancy dining, it is fun to drool over her menus of fish, crab, beef with mushrooms, cheeses...
Excuse me.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
snowy snowy day
Indianapolis is snowed in. All of the schools are closed, even the die-hard private places. Most businesses are closed, which is why my wonderful next door neighbor was on hand to snow blow my driveway.
This does bring me to the question of why - yes, I always seem to find a why. According to the radio, all sorts of accidents took place this morning, hardly surprising - but who are these people? In my version of the universe, the only people who should have to work today are people at hospitals, police officers, etc. Why on earth should the rest of the universe have to go to work today on roads that are not safe? What is so vital to the world that office workers risk the unplowed roads just so that the office can say that they were open?
Easy for me to say, I have the day off.
This does bring me to the question of why - yes, I always seem to find a why. According to the radio, all sorts of accidents took place this morning, hardly surprising - but who are these people? In my version of the universe, the only people who should have to work today are people at hospitals, police officers, etc. Why on earth should the rest of the universe have to go to work today on roads that are not safe? What is so vital to the world that office workers risk the unplowed roads just so that the office can say that they were open?
Easy for me to say, I have the day off.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Founding Mothers
I just wanted to inject a moment of reality into all of our Obama afterglow (tm) and I include myself in that glow.
Yes, it is terrific and outstanding that we have an African-American president, whose extended family looks even more like America than ever seemed possible. (Oh, no, wait, don't the Bushes have one or two Hispanic in-laws? Not quite the same thing.) Obviously I am thrilled to bits that many Americans voted for the man based upon his principles, not upon his skin, but the end result is all the more amazing.
Here's my note - Obama's father wasn't exactly an engaged father figure. Obama was raised by a white mother and a white grandmother, sometimes with the help of a step-father and extended family. I'd like to take a moment to remember them, if I might - the woman from Kansas, who fell for an exchange student, the grandmother who was not perfect but gave her grandson enduring and unending love -
they too are our American story. I honor the goat-herder's son who is now our president, but I also honor the son of a single mother, raised by a grandmother, who now seeks to give his own children a nuclear family.
Yes, it is terrific and outstanding that we have an African-American president, whose extended family looks even more like America than ever seemed possible. (Oh, no, wait, don't the Bushes have one or two Hispanic in-laws? Not quite the same thing.) Obviously I am thrilled to bits that many Americans voted for the man based upon his principles, not upon his skin, but the end result is all the more amazing.
Here's my note - Obama's father wasn't exactly an engaged father figure. Obama was raised by a white mother and a white grandmother, sometimes with the help of a step-father and extended family. I'd like to take a moment to remember them, if I might - the woman from Kansas, who fell for an exchange student, the grandmother who was not perfect but gave her grandson enduring and unending love -
they too are our American story. I honor the goat-herder's son who is now our president, but I also honor the son of a single mother, raised by a grandmother, who now seeks to give his own children a nuclear family.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
just staying in touch
Sam is not happy about the drop in temperature. He's confined himself to frequent short trips outside. He would obviously like to spend more time peeing at the fence-line with the dog next door, but I can see him shaking from the cold.
Sorry, I didn't mean this blog to turn into some kind of obsession with my dog, but seeing how much he has aged in the past year has been hard to accept.
Meanwhile, life continues. I seem to have a good crop of students at the moment, which after last spring semester's mess is a definite plus. Some of them even like my jokes and have said so, openly!
Sorry, I didn't mean this blog to turn into some kind of obsession with my dog, but seeing how much he has aged in the past year has been hard to accept.
Meanwhile, life continues. I seem to have a good crop of students at the moment, which after last spring semester's mess is a definite plus. Some of them even like my jokes and have said so, openly!
Friday, January 09, 2009
just four minutes
Long time no blog. I've been busy, sick, all of the usual cranky winter complaints.
One of the perks to December is that people send Christmas cards. (Well, some people. A pox upon people who say that they'll send a card and then don't, year after year. You're not going to do it, we both know it, don't tell lies.) I love reading people's Christmas letters and seeing pictures of their kids, I really do - even of dogs or cats. Just knowing that people think of me and others at least once a year is gladdening to my cynic's heart.
Alas now it is January and now begins the slog toward spring.
One of the perks to December is that people send Christmas cards. (Well, some people. A pox upon people who say that they'll send a card and then don't, year after year. You're not going to do it, we both know it, don't tell lies.) I love reading people's Christmas letters and seeing pictures of their kids, I really do - even of dogs or cats. Just knowing that people think of me and others at least once a year is gladdening to my cynic's heart.
Alas now it is January and now begins the slog toward spring.
Monday, December 22, 2008
blast from the past
I got "one of those" e-mails last night. I want to emphasize that although it came from a man, I never slept with him or anything like that. He's just, well, complicated. He was a student, a very good student, but also someone I know that I know I was a life-changing person and pushed him and did good things and that's a kind of strange and heavy piece to carry sometimes.
He's not sentimental, so I don't hear from him often. When I do, I always want to push push push - what are you doing? How are you doing? Married? kids? I know this man and I know that pushing him in that direction is a surefire way to make sure I learn nothing. He may be the only man who has ever gotten me to play by his rules.
We exchanged e-mails last night - I don't think that any of them was longer than 20 words. I know that he is alive and employed. (At a conservative estimate, he makes 100 times more than I make.) I don't think there's any way to make it fully clear to him how much that means to me.
He's not sentimental, so I don't hear from him often. When I do, I always want to push push push - what are you doing? How are you doing? Married? kids? I know this man and I know that pushing him in that direction is a surefire way to make sure I learn nothing. He may be the only man who has ever gotten me to play by his rules.
We exchanged e-mails last night - I don't think that any of them was longer than 20 words. I know that he is alive and employed. (At a conservative estimate, he makes 100 times more than I make.) I don't think there's any way to make it fully clear to him how much that means to me.
Monday, December 15, 2008
accessories
I did not own a purse until I was thirty-(delicate cough)
There are a variety of reasons why - there's no point to having a purse when you're already hefting around a book-bag filled with ungraded student essays, library books, notes from the latest grad student coloq, three different kinds of pain killer, datebook, empty coffee cup attached to the shoulder strap, etc.
Then I slowly crept toward pretending to be an adult and accepted that I probably should own one. Truthfully, I'd rather have accepted the need for a speculum, but you don't bring implements to job interviews. I asked a family member with good taste to get me one for Christmas. Said family member (a man, I would note) came through it spades. My one purse is simple, easy to carry, easy to stow inside the inevitable book bag and so far immune to my destructive powers. Jeanne commented that some books fit into the hand or purse, etc. better than others, and that this affects when and how we read them. To my incredible delight, almost all books fit into my purse - big hardcovers are out, but I can still squeeze in almost everything else.
Waiting in line on Friday I read through 25+ pages of a mystery I tucked in there a week ago - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue if you must know. It passed the time and made me far less annoyed - all hail my reluctant purse.
There are a variety of reasons why - there's no point to having a purse when you're already hefting around a book-bag filled with ungraded student essays, library books, notes from the latest grad student coloq, three different kinds of pain killer, datebook, empty coffee cup attached to the shoulder strap, etc.
Then I slowly crept toward pretending to be an adult and accepted that I probably should own one. Truthfully, I'd rather have accepted the need for a speculum, but you don't bring implements to job interviews. I asked a family member with good taste to get me one for Christmas. Said family member (a man, I would note) came through it spades. My one purse is simple, easy to carry, easy to stow inside the inevitable book bag and so far immune to my destructive powers. Jeanne commented that some books fit into the hand or purse, etc. better than others, and that this affects when and how we read them. To my incredible delight, almost all books fit into my purse - big hardcovers are out, but I can still squeeze in almost everything else.
Waiting in line on Friday I read through 25+ pages of a mystery I tucked in there a week ago - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue if you must know. It passed the time and made me far less annoyed - all hail my reluctant purse.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
desperate, desperate, desperate
Sen. Obama isn't a citizen?
Snopes link
I had no idea that this issue was wending its way through the various courts.
Last night I went looking for a book and remembered that I had fought a long and hard recall war over it many years ago. I had it checked out for a time and it was recalled from me. I turned it in, but put in a hold - when the other person had their two weeks, I really needed it back. Well, the other person (whom I subsequently learned was faculty) put in a hold on me, and so it went. I basked in the myopic notion that as an impoverished graduate student, someone with health insurance could afford to shell out $50 for their own copy. The recall war went on and on and on - but the book has been on my shelf for, well, several years now. Am I just desperate to defeat the full timers? Or did the mysterious faculty member finish the project? Either way, I won.
Sam has been herding me all day. I had planned to catch up on some journal reading in bed this morning with breakfast; no go, it was imperative that I do it at my desk, which is far less comfy. I'd thought of taking a coffee break outside; no go, he wanted me inside. So it has gone all day. People laugh at me for allowing Sam to have such control over my daily life; they have obviously never been at the receiving end of a border collie stare. Even at the back of the skull, it's fierce.
Maybe I've read too any Internet postings, but I suppose I feel an obligation to him - Sam asks very little, truly, of me as his human. What matters most is that I maintain a routine. Heaven knows I probably function better with a routine anyway, which may be why I am such a pushover. Anyway, I am desperate for five minutes in which Sam lets me deviate from the norm!
Snopes link
I had no idea that this issue was wending its way through the various courts.
Last night I went looking for a book and remembered that I had fought a long and hard recall war over it many years ago. I had it checked out for a time and it was recalled from me. I turned it in, but put in a hold - when the other person had their two weeks, I really needed it back. Well, the other person (whom I subsequently learned was faculty) put in a hold on me, and so it went. I basked in the myopic notion that as an impoverished graduate student, someone with health insurance could afford to shell out $50 for their own copy. The recall war went on and on and on - but the book has been on my shelf for, well, several years now. Am I just desperate to defeat the full timers? Or did the mysterious faculty member finish the project? Either way, I won.
Sam has been herding me all day. I had planned to catch up on some journal reading in bed this morning with breakfast; no go, it was imperative that I do it at my desk, which is far less comfy. I'd thought of taking a coffee break outside; no go, he wanted me inside. So it has gone all day. People laugh at me for allowing Sam to have such control over my daily life; they have obviously never been at the receiving end of a border collie stare. Even at the back of the skull, it's fierce.
Maybe I've read too any Internet postings, but I suppose I feel an obligation to him - Sam asks very little, truly, of me as his human. What matters most is that I maintain a routine. Heaven knows I probably function better with a routine anyway, which may be why I am such a pushover. Anyway, I am desperate for five minutes in which Sam lets me deviate from the norm!
Monday, December 08, 2008
another meme
Harriet offered this meme and I liked it.
Where is your cell phone? on top of the bread flour container
Your hair color? brown - the highlights have grown out
Your mother? well-intentioned
Your father? well-intentioned, but clueless
Your favorite thing? primary documents from an individual's personal history... (insert recognition of personal geekiness, doubtless requiring professional help)
Your dream last night? hot tub had been installed in my backyard and there was bubble bath and I admired the stars and then kids started playing kickball in the yard next door
Your goal? to have done my best
The room you’re in? my cave
Your hobby? my dog, with reading murder mysteries while curled up with my dog a close second
Your fear? Just one?
Where do you want to be in six years? employed
Where were you last night? grading essays
What you’re not? well-rested
One of your wish-list items? Now that I think about it, a hot tub.
Where you grew up? I was born in a small town/ and I can breathe in a small town/ used to day dream in a small town" which is why I now live in the suburbs
The last thing you did? wash dishes
What are you wearing? warm socks
Your TV? ancient (circa 1995)
Your pet(s)? warm and furry
Your computer? Macintosh - goes by Beatrice
Your mood? lethargic
Missing someone? not at the moment
Your car? named Phil
Something you’re not wearing? a toupee
Favorite store? any place that sells books
Your summer? warm
Love someone? lots
Your favorite color? purple
When is the last time you laughed? yesterday
Last time you cried? this morning
Tagging: anyone
Where is your cell phone? on top of the bread flour container
Your hair color? brown - the highlights have grown out
Your mother? well-intentioned
Your father? well-intentioned, but clueless
Your favorite thing? primary documents from an individual's personal history... (insert recognition of personal geekiness, doubtless requiring professional help)
Your dream last night? hot tub had been installed in my backyard and there was bubble bath and I admired the stars and then kids started playing kickball in the yard next door
Your goal? to have done my best
The room you’re in? my cave
Your hobby? my dog, with reading murder mysteries while curled up with my dog a close second
Your fear? Just one?
Where do you want to be in six years? employed
Where were you last night? grading essays
What you’re not? well-rested
One of your wish-list items? Now that I think about it, a hot tub.
Where you grew up? I was born in a small town/ and I can breathe in a small town/ used to day dream in a small town" which is why I now live in the suburbs
The last thing you did? wash dishes
What are you wearing? warm socks
Your TV? ancient (circa 1995)
Your pet(s)? warm and furry
Your computer? Macintosh - goes by Beatrice
Your mood? lethargic
Missing someone? not at the moment
Your car? named Phil
Something you’re not wearing? a toupee
Favorite store? any place that sells books
Your summer? warm
Love someone? lots
Your favorite color? purple
When is the last time you laughed? yesterday
Last time you cried? this morning
Tagging: anyone
Friday, December 05, 2008
December
Busy days here at lemming headquarters, trying to keep up with the marathon race that is getting everything done and processed so that the December graduations can go forward. After the pure luxury of sleeping in at Thanksgiving and having nothing more onerous to do than help wash a few dishes, I had grown quite spoiled.
The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is such a funny muddle, isn't it? Constant carols every where, but it's only the first week of Advent and Hanukkah doesn't start for quite a while yet. (Yes, yes, Hanukkah isn't a Jewish Christmas, but it's part of the month.) Everyone seems to be in a holding pattern - we're all waiting for George's W.'s reign to end anyway, but the waiting just goes with the month.
Today is the birthday of Rose Wilder Lane, the "Ghost in the Little House" - did she ghostwrite her mother's books? Help with editing? Collaboration? More mysteries and process of waiting.
The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is such a funny muddle, isn't it? Constant carols every where, but it's only the first week of Advent and Hanukkah doesn't start for quite a while yet. (Yes, yes, Hanukkah isn't a Jewish Christmas, but it's part of the month.) Everyone seems to be in a holding pattern - we're all waiting for George's W.'s reign to end anyway, but the waiting just goes with the month.
Today is the birthday of Rose Wilder Lane, the "Ghost in the Little House" - did she ghostwrite her mother's books? Help with editing? Collaboration? More mysteries and process of waiting.
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