It's Time

I didn't join the digital literacy blogging challenge that started in late November.  I probably should have because some excellent blogging has come out of it.  Like this.  And this.  It's been a really busy time of the year for me, though, and I think I made the right decision.

I other news, I am in my 40th week of pregnancy.  It's been a good 9 months overall.  Maybe too good. This little guy seems perfectly content in my belly with little indication that he'll be arriving soon.  We're hoping this low pressure weather system will change things up a bit.  Even Dave, the resident scientist at our house, is putting some of his hope into this bit of folklore.

We'd like to meet this baby soon.  From what we know of him so far, we're going to like him a lot.

2011 will be an adventure.

Two Days

It's hard to believe this little guy is going to arrive in a couple of weeks -- or sooner.

Thursday at my appointment, my OB said that things were "thinning," but otherwise still closed tight.  She followed with, "I'd say you have at least two days."

In retrospect, she was smiling when she said this and seemed to be joking.  She and Dave both got the joke and chuckled.  Me?  I shouted, "TWO DAYS?  TWO DAYS?"

My OB touched my arm and answered calmly, "Or longer.  I really have no way to predict these things."

I consider myself to be someone with a good sense of  humor, but I haven't been able to pick up on a single OB joke for 9 months.   

Sweet Baby Grey

This is my nephew, Greysen.  He came to visit us this weekend.

I miss him terribly now.

Blogging Is Not So Hard

Since I should be writing every day anyway, why not squeeze in some short blog posts as well?  

Here's Dave painting the office.  I was in charge of pictures, so I couldn't help him.  Obviously.

 It's hard to tell here, but we switched the color of the room during day two of this project.  The first blue was just too blue for us.

Once the room was painted, we were ready to start assembling furniture.  Here I am getting ready for the project by flexing.

 I actually did help with the crib.  I like tools.

The office is now a nursery!  We LOVE this rocker.

I also really, really love this rug.  So calming.

That's the Complete Works of William Shakespeare on the middle shelf.  Dave got to keep Stan the medical skeleton in the room so I added this to balance things out.

Starting to Nest

Our goal over the weekend was to begin work on the nursery.  There were more steps to this process than we had anticipated.  Here's the run down:

1. Clean the entire house.  My God, it was a mess.  How could we focus on just one room while the rest of the house looked like this?  We filled the Dyson twice.

2. Pare down the books.  This was a difficult and emotional task, but I managed to load up three boxes to sell or donate.  Dave made the process sound simple: "Just get rid of any books you don't need."  Need?  Do I need all of Jane Austen's novels?  Why, yes.  I do.  Incidentally, Dave assured me he had already pared down his books and did indeed need all of them.  Including Kate Chopin's The Awakening.  Since I have three times the number of books, I didn't explore this further.

3. Organize the basement.  With the new baby furniture coming in, everything already in the office needs a new home.

You can see some of Dave's books in the corner of this photo below.  The red one is Michael Jordan's autobiography.  He needs that.

4. Move the furniture out.  Except for this guy.  We think the baby might like him. And his politics.

The basement actually has a quaint little office space now.  I'm tempted to use it.  

5.  Paint.  We didn't actually get to this step.  It took us 14 hours to complete tasks 1 through 4.  I'll be sure to document the painting though (because you can't take pictures and work at the same time).

Target Field

We had a great night at the ballpark.  Dave was so excited about our field passes and the close proximity of Tony Oliva that he didn't know he had his phone in video instead of camera. Our guide seemed a little confused as she took this "picture," but we managed to convert the file and it all worked out.

Blog Therapy

I'm working on an article today.  It feels surprisingly good to be writing.  I'm not all that pleased with the draft in front of me, but it's there.  That counts for something in this summer where I've managed to achieve far less on the dissertation than I planned.  It's just really a big project, you know.  And getting started has been somewhat daunting.

Admitting that I've been a slacker is the first step.  Right?

I Should Have Been Grading Papers Anyway

Dave and I had no plans whatsoever yesterday and this was an exciting prospect.  We considered several options.  Garlic festival in Hutchinson, MN.  Irish Festival in St. Paul.  Lunch on the town.  An overdue visit to Dave's uncle's new house.  A movie.  Shopping for baby furniture. 

We discussed each of these as we enjoyed a beautiful morning and a cup of coffee on the deck.

Shortly thereafter, Dave discovered a leaky pipe under the sink.  And a puddle in the basement.  All of which explained the smell we couldn't identify two days earlier.  

So, the day took on a mind of it's own.  I soaked up water in the basement.  Dave tackled the pipe.  We did make it out for lunch around 3:00 and squeezed in some online shopping in the evening while watching the Twins game.  So all was not lost.

I'm looking at the calendar now, and it looks like we might have another lazy Saturday sometime in October.  

Friday the 13th

One whopper of a headache has had me on the couch all day.  Two naps couldn't even shake it.  I think some tight muscles in my right shoulder are to blame.  I need a massage.  That's all there is to it.

P.S.  This is my sad attempt to get back into blogging.  It's a start, people.

Otis

We were in charge of this guy over the weekend.  He ate two snails and a frog and fell off the dock into the lake.

I think we'll be great parents.

Z

ZUCCHINI BREAD

The small group leading class the other day asked that we each bring in a cultural artifact.  I brought in the St. Luke's Lutheran Cookbook from Wishek, ND.  My mom grew up there, and I didn't realize how much I missed that small town until I flipped through the pages of this book.  The hotdish recipes remind me of my childhood, and the German foods, like kuchen and knoephla, make me want to sit and talk with my grandmothers for a long while.

My favorite recipe in the book is for zucchini bread.  It's been a while since I've made it, but the oil stain on the page tells the story of how often I used to try.  I've never made it as well as my mom.  And I'm sure I never will.

Mom, if you are reading this, could you maybe bake a loaf?  I'll look forward to eating it with you next week.

Y

YAWP

Did anyone else want to become an English teacher because of that scene in Dead Poets Society where Robin Williams gets Ethan Hawke to sound his barbaric YAWP in the front of the classroom?

X

X, THE

I recently reread one of my favorite short pieces to use with students:  "My Name" by Sandra Cisneros from House on Mango Street.  I especially love this part about Esperanza changing her name:

I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees.  Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.  Yes.  Something like Zeze the X will do.

We've been playing around with names for the baby.  Any child with "the X" as a middle name is sure to have an interesting life.  William the X.  Sophia the X.  Yes.  I think something with the X will do.

W

WAITING AND WALKING

My running has been restricted lately.  This is due in part to a) pregnancy* and b) ill-fitting sports bras.  (Incidentally, b is because of a).  I've been waiting and waiting for a new, more spacious bra to arrive in the mail, but some sort of back order has the whole thing on delay.  In the meantime, I've been doing more walking than running.  And I miss running.  A lot.

* That's right.  I'm knocked up and am finally revealing it to the internets. 

V

VERISIMILITUDE

I've always liked this word but find little occasion to use it because I don't know how to put it in a sentence.  Please, if you could do that for me, it would be great.

U

Dave tried to help me think of a post for U on our way home today.

URINE

This was his first suggestion.  "No," I said. "I need to think of something that has to do with me."

"Urine," he responded.  "You pee really fast.  Like a race horse."

"Okay.  Well something that isn't urine," I answered.

UP-SPEAK

"Up-speak?  What is up-speak?"  I asked.

"I'll just talk for a while and then you'll know.  I use up-speak all of the time."

"Ohhhh.  Is that why people always ask you where you're from?"

"Yes."

"I get it.  But it still doesn't have to do with me."

UNDERWEAR

This was his next suggestion.  "You're not wearing any," he said.

"Well, true, but I don't want to tell the internets that."

(Of course, I am doing that now.  It made sense to go commando for the short ride home from the gym, though.  It was appropriate.  I think.)


UNANIMOUS

His final offer.  "I don't have anything to say about that," I responded, "except that I don't expect we'll come to any unanimous ideas here."

"True," he concluded.

T

TOMORROW

I start teaching my summer course tomorrow.  I'm a bit anxious, but it should be a great class.  I've been prepping and prepping non-stop it seems, and I still don't quite feel prepared.  But, the train is taking off and I'll be on it.

S

SPILL

Something must be in the air, because like others I know, I spilled on my MacBook.  Technically, I spilled near it and merely SPLATTERED the computer, but that was enough to do damage.  Milk leaves residue when it dries, and enough of it got into the trackpad to destroy its clicking function.  

The good news is that Patrick, at the Apple Store, assured me that everything major about the computer checked out diagnostically and would be fine.  I can still use my computer with a mouse or with the touch function, but I've already found a few instances where clicking is preferred.  I can replace the trackpad for a SUM of money, and I probably will at some point.  Just not yet.

Patrick did want to know, "You spilled the milk?  Not a child?"  No, Patrick, not a child.  And I vowed then and there to never drink anything next to my computer again.  But Dave did just bring me a cup of coffee and it's nice to SIP it here while I write.

R

RUNNING LATE

This is a chronic problem for me.  I was late twice today, for example.  I'm working on it.  Unsuccessfully, but consciously.

Q

My copy of Amy Krouse Rosenthal's book, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, finally arrived after a snafu at the library.  Just in time, I thought, to help me with the pesky letter Q!

While I like and whole-heartedly agree with Rosenthal's entry for Q:

Q-TIP

Inserting a Q-Tip deep into your ear is a great, undiscussed pleasure.

I was hoping for a more extensive list to inspire my thinking.  Instead, I googled, "words that start with Q," and that did the trick.

QUADRILATERAL

I've always loved geometry.  Which is weird, because I actually lack any sense of spatial reasoning or intelligence.  But if you give me a formula and a calculator, I can work my way around a polygon or two.

QUAFF

I once used this word to describe a hairdo.  That was wrong.

QUALITATIVE

This is the kind of educational research that I do.  It's a method of inquiry that employs observation, interviews, and document analysis to try understand people's actions and their own interpretations of those actions.  Some people have a hard time grasping how this can be research.  They think that quantitative methods are the only ones that contribute to knowledge and theory.  It's a debate that I won't go into here, but I can always tell I'm about to engage in that debate when someone asks me about my research hypothesis.  Sometimes I make one up to just disarm my conversant, but that's really not the point of what I do.  Dave has stopped asking me about my hypothesis, so things are calmer around here at least.

QUANTUM LEAP

I would like to be able to do this.  That show from the early 1990s made it seem really cool.  See:

QUARK

I don't know what this means, but it sounds like you should excuse yourself after saying (or doing) it.

QUARTERBACK

Recently, I was told that you should never choose a quarterback in a first round draft pick because overall, quarterbacks aren't that different.  You should choose a running back instead.  This bit of information will come in handy someday, I am sure.

QUESADILLA

The grown-up's grilled cheese.  I eat one frequently.

P

PERSPIRATION

I am a sweater.  Not like an argyle, but like this:

And I'm not kidding when I say that I've had sweat patches that could rival those in this picture.

Some of you may have noticed this problem.  How can you not?  But it's also possible that I've taken the right precautions over the years to hide this embarrassing quality.  For example, I tend to keep my arms down and wear black in almost all presentation situations.  This includes teaching.  And since I am a teacher by profession, this really limits the variety in my wardrobe.  Light blue cotton button-down?  No way.  Fitted top?  Can't do it.  Unless of course these items are in black.

It's not just presentation situations that ignite the waterworks.  Sometimes I've pitted out before I've even left the house.  In the winter.

Sure, I've considered and tried a number of options to remedy this problem.  Clinical strength deodorant?  Deep breathing exercises?  Air-conditioned rooms?  A concerted effort to simply not sweat?  So far none of this has worked.

Instead, I've accepted this problem.  It's my lot in life.  One that I'm pretty sure was passed down from my Grandma D.  That woman is a faucet.  And when I look on the bright side, I can feel good about releasing gallons of possible toxins from my body.  Please, let's all try to think of it this way.  If I can't change my body chemistry, maybe we could all work on embracing the pit-stain as part of a new eco-fashion movement.  Perhaps it's a stretch, but it's all I've got.

O

ORGANIZED

I try to put on a good show of being organized, but this doesn't help me feel any less

OVERWHELMED

by the tasks before me.  I mean, should a to do list in the summer be this long?  I think not.  So, I

OUGHT

to get to work right now, but I would rather be

OUTSIDE.

And if I were reading this very blog post at this very moment, I might

OBJECT

to such a lame entry for the July blogging challenge.  Here's what I say to that,

OH WELL.

N

NOSEBLEED 

We sat in the nosebleed seats at the Twins game last night, and it was delightful.  When you are up that high, there's a lovely breeze blowing over your shoulder.  And on a hot game night, that's a plus.  You can stand up whenever you want for how long you want, and there's no one behind you to complain.  And the best part?  We still had a fantastic view of the field where Liriano pitched a great game and the Twins beat the Sox 7-4.

We obviously had a very good time.

M

MUSIC

We saw Joan Baez at the Minnesota Zoo this week, and I was absolutely stunned.  Stunned by the clarity of her voice, stunned by her beauty, stunned by the power of her lyrics, stunned by the reverence that exuded from the crowd, stunned by her storytelling charm, stunned by the relevance of her songs, stunned by how much the music moved me, and stunned (maybe most of all) by how good she looked in skinny jeans.

L

LOCAVORE

Dave and I like to spend our Saturday mornings at a local coffee shop, Swede Hollow, and then at the St. Paul Farmer's Market.  We do this routine so often that our favorite server at the Hollow knows what we order.  Two medium dark roasts, two slices of bacon artichoke quiche, and one cranberry white chocolate scone.  I've always dreamed of having someone know my "usual," so this gives me more joy than is really comprehendible.

Also cool is the fact that the Hollow uses ingredients from their own garden in their dishes.  So, we're eating local.

From there, we take in the market.  It's quite a beautiful place with all of the flowers, vegetables, and fruits.  Every week I say that we should bring a camera.  We never do.

Since Dave does most of the cooking at our house, I let him lead in the choices, but I do insist on a few supplements now and then.  This week we left with beets, green beans, raspberries, new potatoes, onions, and tomatoes.  All local and chemical free.

We also pick up a freshly butchered half chicken and some chicken brats from a local farmer and his family each week.  They don't know our usual order yet, but they do recognize us.  The young boy always makes a good case for trying their bacon.  Like he has to try very hard.  

We sort of fell into this routine.  I won't lie to you, we were in it for the cranberry white chocolate scone at first.  The market became part of the routine when we simply remembered it was going on one day.  Now, after a year of doing so, we go back because it feels sort of amazing to sit down for dinner and realize that everything on your plate is locally grown.  And it tastes good too.

Being a burgeoning locavore does have its drawbacks.  I'm typically very happy and excited at the start of the market and then ready to punch the next person who bumps into me by the end of it.  I never punch anyone though.  I just swear a lot.  But whatever.  We're doing our part to support local growers and eat healthy.

K

KC

What great good luck!  Today's letter is K, and I had coffee with KC today.  Excellent visit.  She's as funny as her husband, if you ask me.  Well, close anyway.

And how odd that she's on J and my name starts with J?  Thanks for the shout out, KC.  Almost like the planets were aligned or something.

J

JEAN LOUISE FINCH (SCOUT)

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I'm Jean Louise Finch. You brought us some hickory nuts one time, remember?" I began to sense the futility one feels when unacknowledged by an chance acquaintance.

"I go to school with Walter," I began again. "He's your boy, ain't he? Ain't he, sir?"

Mr. Cunningham was moved to a faint nod.  He did know me, after all.   

"He's in my grade," I said, "and he does right well.  He's a good boy," I added, "a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it.  Tell him hey for me, won't you?"

----------

"So it took an eight-year-old child to bring 'em to their senses, didn't it?" said Atticus.  "That proves something -- that a gang of wild animals can be stopped, simply because they're still human.  Hmp, maybe we need a police force of children . . . you children last night made Mr. Cunningham stand in my shoes for a minute. That was enough." 

Happy 50th, To Kill A Mockingbird.  

I

ICED TEA

Here's a conversation from our house today while Dave worked at his computer and pretended to listen to me.

Me:  "I'm going to make some iced tea.  You want some?"
Dave:  "Sure."

I walk into the kitchen, take out some glasses and the cold-brew iced tea, open the packets, run the water, drop some iced cubes into the glasses, combine these elements, and walk back into the dining room.

Back in the kitchen.  Approximately four minutes later.

Me:  "Do you want some Splenda in your iced tea?"
Dave:  "I hate Splenda in iced tea."
Me: "Ok."

I stir my glass of iced tea with Splenda and walk back into the dining room with two glasses.

Dave:  "I didn't know I was getting iced tea.  Thank you."
Me:  Sigh.  "You're welcome."
Dave:  After taking a drink.  "Oh, ugh.  This needs some Splenda or something."

I walk back to the kitchen for the Splenda and think of a post for this blog that starts with the letter I.

H

HASTE

I'm working on a not-so-large project for a journal right now, and because I waited so long to get started, I'm behind and having to make haste.  I should keep working, but I think I'll go to bed and get a fresh start in the morning.  I'm thinking I can still make my end of the week deadline and fit in that late morning meeting. Keep your fingers crossed.

G

GREYSEN & GRANDPA GARLAND

There's one special G in my life.  This guy:

Actually, when I think about it, I have two special G's in my life:

It seems safe to say they have a few things in common.

F

FABRIC

I'm going to learn how to sew.  I made a duffel bag once in 8th grade, so it can be that hard.  These great fabrics will be my inspiration. Napkins seem like a good place to start. 

On a side note, I am also really diggin' the FRIGID air coming from the energy-sucking air-conditioner in our dining room window.  Sorry, planet Earth.  It was unbearable in here.

E

EDWIN & EDNA

I can't remember the last time Dave called me Jessie.  He knows my name.  He just doesn't use it.*  When he does call me Jessie, I usually think that there's something terribly wrong.  That he swallowed a peanut or some fish or is choking.

I imagine that he called me Jessie when we first met, but shortly thereafter be began calling me JD.  I liked JD.  It reminded me of the time in elementary school when I tried to get everyone to call me JJ.  My mom called me JJ for about a week, but no one else did.  Thanks, Mom.  You're the best!

A couple of years ago, Dave stumbled upon the name Edna for me.  Neither of us can remember how it came about, but it stuck and now I readily answer to it.  Even in public.  I thought it appropriate for Dave to have his own nickname, so I started calling him Edwin.  Now we're Edwin and Edna.  A hip couple in our 30s.

There are, of course, variations on these names.  Na.  Win.  NaWin.  Windom.  Edwina.  I can't explain, however, why Dave recently began calling me Wilson.  I think it's a reference to Cast Away.  The movie where Tom Hanks gets stranded on an island and talks to the volleyball, Wilson, to keep from going crazy (or to demonstrate that he is crazy, I'm not sure which).  Probably I should feel flattered that Dave thinks of me as his volleyball on this island we call life.

Probably.

*Also, he spells it wrong occasionally.  Our season tickets to the Guthrie, for example, read David and Jesse.

D

DAIRY QUEEN

What better way to celebrate America's birthday than with a blizzard?  I was so pleased to find an open DQ on our way home from the cabin today that I didn't even mind when I had to eat Dave's cookie dough blizzard because they mistook his "no extra fudge" for "extra fudge."  (Note:  This happens at least every third time that he makes this request, and usually I won't allow the trade.  Clearly I was in a very festive mood).  

C

CABIN

I've been trying to think all day of a good C word that isn't CABIN, but I haven't come up with anything.  But I am at the cabin this weekend, so that's convenient.  Hmm.  Convenient.  Oh, never mind.  It's too late now.

My day at the cabin consisted of breakfast, a short run followed by a short swim in my running clothes, lunch, sun-bathing, more swimming, reading a book about growing up in North Dakota that my pal Sarah gave to me, beating Dave in cribbage, a nap, dinner preparation, another swim, a delicious dinner, and now this.

I am hoping that tomorrow will look much the same.

B

BUDGET

I am putting myself on one.  With Operation Dissertation Writing soon to be in full swing, it seems wise.  I've never been much of a spender anyway, but it's still frightening to think that eventually I'll be contributing zero dollars to our family of two.

Don't worry.  The budget will include a per diem for coffee-shop purchases.  The writing will not happen at home.  We all know that.

A

ASTROLOGY

On the first of every month I like to check my horoscope to learn what the weeks ahead may hold.  I can't say that I've ever had an earth-shatteringly accurate reading, but it's fun nonetheless.  Unfortunately, Susan Miller at Astrology Zone hasn't updated her site, and it looks like I'll have to wait until tomorrow to learn about July.

I could really use some direction on certain matters, but I'll save that for fodder in the July Blogging Challenge.

It's Taken Me a Few Days to Even Be Able to Write This

A couple of weeks ago, right before our first game in the new Twins ballpark, Dave almost got in a fight with someone while parking.  The guy was standing in the only available free parking spot in order to hold it for someone who was on his way.  Dave moved the front bumper really close to the guy and explained to him through the open window that he wasn't a car and therefore didn't really have the right to stand in an empty spot.  I was decidedly nervous through the whole exchange, and a little bit angry at my husband, but it ended shortly thereafter when the guy's pal arrived in his new Mercedes and backed into the spot while we watched.  Dave called them both names and we were off.

I thought it was an isolated incident.  

Then over the weekend another altercation involving my spouse made this one seem mild, if not downright pleasant.  

Dave and I were running around our local lake on Friday night, and as usual, we moved from the walking path to the bike path to avoid two ridiculous and unnecessary hills along the way.  On the first hill, a man and woman on bikes passed us, vocalized the requisite "on your left," and breezed by without a problem.  On the second hill, at the exact opposite side of the lake, the same couple came by again.  This time "on your left" was followed by, "Come on, guys, it's a bike path."

Fair enough, I thought.  It is a bike path.  But when you add these two bikers to the total number of bikers we see on Lake Phalen each year, the number reaches approximately 12.  Maybe.

Dave didn't keep his thoughts to himself.  "If you don't like it, buddy, you can ride on the street," he said.  

And the man stopped.

I won't go into all of the details, but watching from a fair distance after my retreat to the walking path, I could see that words were being exchanged at a rather close range.  And it didn't look pretty.  

I get a little annoyed when things like this happen, and I yelled to them both that there was no point in ruining a perfectly good afternoon to fight over this.  The man's wife seemed to agree with me from her fair distance farther up the path.

Dave, finally, walked away from the angry biker, but not far enough before the man decided to TRIP him.  Let me say that again.  The man tried to TRIP him.  Luckily, Dave kept his balance.

Something about that TRIP triggered something in my peace-loving soul, and I calmly walked over to the man and explained:  "You know, it's one thing to tell us to get off the bike path.  Fine.  We'll move over.  But when you decide to get physical, it just makes you an asshole."  

And his come back was really quite good:  "Can you read?"  

Oh lord.  I didn't realize it until just then, but all of a sudden we were in one of those arguments where all  of the logic in the world was not going to make a bit of difference.  So I walked away and said nothing.  

The next moments are kind of a blur, but as the man followed me, I realized that his wife was still telling him to stop and was standing just a few feet away now.  It took me until this moment to look at her.  And another moment to realize that I knew her. And another to realize that this was going to be the most embarrassing moment of my life.  

Because she is an assistant professor in my department.  Where I am a student.  And she is a professor.  In my department.  Where she is a professor.

I'm actively trying to block this out from here on, but I do know I mumbled several rounds of "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."  

To her credit, she ended the entire situation by saying boldly and loudly to her husband, "Stop now.  This is my colleague."  Which was nice.  Because she's a professor.  And I'm a student. 

We exchanged looks and they rode off.  

But it wasn't over.  Partly because I was absolutely fuming at Dave for making his initial comment and at myself for bringing profanity* into the debacle.  And partly because they decided to wait for us a half mile down the path.

The good news is that they had decided to stop in order to apologize.  The bad news is that I just wanted to crawl in a hole over the whole thing and now I had to prolong the event in one of those terribly, terribly awkward small-talk situations after having to exchange apologies.  I mean, really.  The whole conversation ended in my getting advice about my job search in the fall.  It was helpful, but come on, how awkward is that? 

There's no moral to the story here.  It's just really embarrassing.  And what's worse, I expect to see these two at every turn now.  I've been living in fear to the extent that I've been running up those f*!%ing ridiculous hills.

  

*Although, and I've gone over this in my mind several times, I didn't actually call the man an asshole.  I merely suggested that he could be perceived as one in this situation. 

Unknown

If you want to know what the cloud situation will be like tomorrow, you're just out of luck.  There's no way of knowing.

This post is the most productive thing I've done all day. And that's not saying much.

These grey days really suck the life out of me.  I have gotten very little done despite having a whole day with only a to-do list and no where to go.  Taking next year to write my dissertation may be the worst decision I've made in a long while.  Of course, painting the office will help.  I mean, that's obvious.

Spectator

I'm enjoying being a spectator for this literacy challenge.  It's inspired me to think about how much I read each day. 

Last night, instead of watching the Duke / Butler game, I read a few chapters of my latest book club book:  A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon.  It's okay so far.  I'm looking forward to the point when it lives up to this little bit on the back cover:  "a disturbing yet amusing portrait of a dignified man trying to go insane politely."  I like that idea

The part I read last night wasn't enough to hold my full attention, and I did stop reading to watch Butler lose the game.  Which was really too bad.  The announcer tried to make me feel better by saying there were no losers in this game.  It was a nice try, but the nature of the sport dictates otherwise.  

Missed Boat

I'm really sad that I didn't join this blogging challenge.  It's awesome so far.  Check it out!

p.s.  If I had joined the blogging challenge, I'd blog about the nursing book I read yesterday at my sister's place in Helena.  I have no reason to need this information about nursing, but the diagrams were interesting.  Plus, it was right there next to me.

A List

1.  The Carleton teaching is winding down.  It's been an amazing learning experience, and I'm kinda sad to leave.  I am looking forward to having more time to work on the dissertation though.  And I won't miss that drive.  

2.  The dissertation needs some serious work.  The data collection is ongoing.  I conducted a couple of interviews this week and will do more next week.  But what am I finding?  That I cannot answer.  Trying not to worry yet.

3.  I am on my fourth week of a chest cold.  I think I am less disgusting at this point, but the coughing fits continue.  Had a small one in class yesterday. 

4.  Despite the cold, I have been making it to they gym regularly, and I plan to go back to yoga this weekend.  I've made it there only once in the last four weeks and my ujjayi pranayama was seriously hindered. 

5.  Dave and I went on our 3rd annual North Shore cross-country ski trip last weekend. Best weather we've had.  Simply gorgeous.  Here's some of the sky.  Three days of skiing and 50km total.  The knee is still sore. 

6.  I am counting down the days until my nephew arrives.  We bought him a stuffed moose up north so that he'll have a little Minnesota in his life.  We named him (the moose) Thermoose (inspired by my thermos), and we've been talking to him regularly.  Is there any clearer sign that we must get a dog? 

7.  I can't get enough of the Vancouver Winter Olympics.  Kim Yu-na.  AMAZING.

8.  Planning to read some of Olive Kitteridge this weekend and watch The Proposal.  Right after I finish my part of the NRC and NAME conference proposals -- which I am starting right now.

From My Husband

"I try to be attracted to you, but most of the time you make me want to puke."

Happy Valentine's Day indeed.

Phoenix

I'm sitting in the Phoenix airport right now waiting to board a flight back to a winter world where shoveling awaits.  Dave is attending a conference and I came along to enjoy the weather.  We went on this fantastic hike in the mountains south of the city yesterday and had lunch at this amazing farm.  I kept reminding Dave of what a lovely, peaceful day we had in an attempt to lower his blood pressure during the Vikings game.  We weren't able to get a table in the hotel bar during half time, and that was for the best, because -- I won't lie -- things were thrown during the game.  We've both recovered now.  And I've decided to cheer for the Saints in the big game.  Dave, however, hasn't made that leap.

Intro (On So Many Levels)

We figured out the school thing, but choosing groups was messy.  I guess that's true no matter where you teach, and I think that only one student was upset about a) WHO is in her group and b) WHERE her group decided to go.  I thanked her at the end of class for her flexibility which was a way of saying it would be nice if she COULD BE flexible because she seemed to be on the verge of really NOT being flexible.  This preemptive form of positive reinforcement is one that I've been using in my teaching for years.  Middle school students were usually quite receptive, but I can't say yet how it's going to fly with  your average liberal arts college student.

Can We Visit YOUR School? Really. I'm Asking.

I am happy to report that there were no major blunders the first day.  There may be a blunder in this first week, though, as I am learning that it's not so easy to get students into schools.  Let's just say that this particular small town where I teach is overrun with college students who need to get into the public schools for various projects.  And to their credit, the schools have a decent policy in place to keep from feeling overburdened by the requirements of professors (like me) who count on their open doors.

I can dig the protocol stuff sometimes.  But I'm nice.  And I think my students are too.  So shouldn't we get special treatment just this once?

I think so.

Mostly, I'm Terrified

I start teaching on Tuesday at my alma mater, Carleton College.  When I began there as a student over sixteen years ago (SIXTEEN YEARS AGO?!?), I felt rather certain that I had landed there by some mistake of destiny and that I didn't actually fit amid the crowd of super-achiever and smarty-pants students.  Naturally, I am feeling the same way about teaching there as a visiting instructor in education.

As a student, I got over the feeling of not fitting there and found Carleton to be the most perfect school for my interests and ideas and for shaping who I would become -- and continue to become -- in the world.

I am doing my best to trust that it will once again challenge me in all the right and important ways as I develop who I'll be as a professor too.