This has been noted a lot of places, but I hadn't gotten around to reading it: Truckers pick up quilting and knitting on their downtime. It's a fairly nice article and doesn't play into too many of the stereotypes about knitting or quilting. And some of the comments the people make are ones that I think ring true for a lot of people who do some kind of art or craft: Dave White (whose wife got him started) remarked that quilting "gives you a little bit of ownership. You've actually accomplished something with your time off." And Kevin Banks remarks that it's a better way to spend off time than sitting around a truck stop "talking about who has a bigger radio."Some of the people make stuff for themselves or family and some - though the article doesn't come out and say it, but I bet it's true - make stuff for charities.

Some of the truckers commented that the "macho" tone of the trucking world made them feel a little odd, for example, if they were to unpack their hobby while watching a televised football game at one of the stops.

But I like another quote from Kevin Banks: "The fact that you can take strands of thread and basically make something out of it, that's awesome I think," he said. "It's pretty cool stuff, man."

That's part of the attraction for me, I know. Being able to take raw materials and create something. (And someday - if I ever actually do learn to spin - I can go even one step more down the "raw materials" chain - starting with fleece rather than yarn). There is something powerful about being able to create something useful or  beautiful or both with your own hands.

****

Here's a progress shot of the Clapotis. I think maybe I will have just enough yarn - I am winding down on the third-to-last ball but I think I can eke at least one more pattern repeat out of it, and maybe a full repeat out of the second-to-last ball, before I have to start decreasing. The shawl is just about 42" long along the side you measure to get the length...it won't be as long and enveloping as some shawls, but at least it will be long enough (it will probably be close to 50" when I'm ready to start decreasing, and I might be able to block it to be a bit longer, I don't know how readily a tape yarn will block. You can usually stretch wool pretty well but this is, I think, a rayon. Actually, I don't even know for sure if it can get wet...I'll have to look at the ball band again). I have seven of the "drop rows" done on it here.

Wow, it's busy-time on campus. I've been slammed with stuff to do - grading, prep, research, all of that. I also have to find time this week to clean house and also do the last couple bits on the taxes (I forgot to claim the $500 I made reviewing textbooks, so I need to recalculate. And yes, I am worried enough about it being found out not to just go along and leave it off)

I have been doing some knitting - in fact, I knit a bit yesterday while invigilating an exam. This time it's the long-stalled Clapotis that I'm knitting out of Louisa Harding "Impression."

I had put the shawl aside, in part, because as I worked on the mid-section, I began to worry that I'd run out of yarn. That's actually my usual strategy when something starts bothering me about a project...if I'm afraid there's not enough yarn, or if it's a variegated yarn that's pooling funny, or there's possibly evidence of damage (insect or otherwise: I've learned through sad experience that carrying yarn in a zippered bag means that the yarn sometimes gets snagged).

It's not exactly a "I'm waiting to see if I should rip this back" kind of thing - I very rarely rip something back, unless it's a truly tragic problem (like, two skeins in a sweater that claimed to be the same dyelot, weren't). It's actually how I deal with a lot of problems that bug me: I am what they sometimes call "avoidant." I would rather not deal with a problem if I can put it off. (It's the one area of my life where I'm prone to procrastination).

It's not for nothing that I like the comment Linda Ligon made in her book ("This is how I go when I go like this"): How you do anything is how you do everything. I think that's true, of me at least. I can see how I react to certain things in my work-life being similar to how I react to similar instances while knitting or quilting, or where interacting with people outside of work. Or working on the piano.

Yes, I am still taking piano lessons, though I've not talked about it much. I'm getting close to proficient on Clementi's "Sonatina in C" (yes, all four movements. I've just started the fourth - Vivace, which sounds in places like it must have been inspired by some kind of folk-dance. I can't play it as fast as it should be played but I can sort-of play it). I'm still working on "Castle in a Cloud." It strikes me as odd: most of the stuff I play, I have it memorized (to the point where I forgot my exercise book at home last week, but could play the piece from memory without it to prompt me), but I CANNOT get this memorized. I don't know. I think it's because (a) it has a lot of dissonances and I, having pretty much been raised on Baroque and Classical music, don't expect them and (b) it's in an odd minor key (um...D minor I think? Enharmonic with F?). Another part of it may be that the repeated "figures" are similar but not the same...and I tend to expect sameness, or at least what-seem-to-me logical differences in figures in a piece.

I have pretty much run through (this week is the last piece) the exercise book. The teacher started casting about in her files for something else for me. "There's a famous book of pieces by this person...I can't remember his name right now" she said. "Hanon?" I asked. Yes, that was the one. I told her I already had a copy, and so, I'm going to start working out of it next week. Oh, I'll probably come to dislike Hanon in the way I currently dislike "Sportacular Warmups book 4," but right now I'm kind of pleased that I am able to use a book I bought and also that I'm working from a book that many, many people in the past worked from. (I can't remember the original copyright date on the Hanon, but it's pretty early. I have a similar book of Bergmuller pieces that lists 1903 as the first copyright date). Again, it's kind of like the whole thing with knitting and quilting: I like that feeling of connectedness with the past. And while maybe none of my grandparents would recognize Hanon (none of them played the piano, except for maybe my paternal grandfather, a little bit), I still feel that sense of connectedness and groundedness that I like.

The woman I had bought my house from, back in 2001, died about a week and a half ago.

She had been living in an assisted-living home in Denison (I thought she was in Dallas). I had had some contact with her son around the time of the sale (she was starting with Alzheimer's, she needed to move somewhere more structured, and they needed the money from the house sale). But I had lost track of him.

Then the other day, in the mail, I got a fairly official-looking letter from a life insurance company. Addressed to her son. I guess she forgot to change the address. I was concerned, because it looked Important. (I had gotten other mail that was obviously advertising, and so didn't feel too bad about tossing it.

But I figured I HAD to get this to her son somehow...it could have been the information he needed to claim life insurance, or something.

Finally, it occurred to me that I could call the funeral home - they would have his contact information, and even if they didn't want to give it to me, I could give them my contact information and they could pass it on to him. Well, even better: the man I spoke with said he knew the son, knew he was waiting for this piece of mail, and he came out to my office building to pick it up. (This is a long-term business in town, so I trust them to forward it on to him). I'm relieved that I was able to figure out a way to get the information to him, but you know? In the days of the Internet, there should be some way to make a "permanent forwarding address" or something where mail could go....forwarding orders last for a year at most.

One of the books I read over break was Georges, by Alexandre Dumas ("pere," as they say...).

It was an interesting novel. I was mistaken about it in two ways: first, it was NOT set in the Caribbean. Rather, it was set on Mauritius - in some ways, a more exotic and certainly a more distant locale. Mauritius is known in the book (mostly) as Ile de France, the name it bore during French colonial times. (First the Dutch had it. Then the French. Then the British. The Dutch named it Mauritius and the British, when they took over, renamed it that).

Also, Georges, the hero of the piece, is not noticeably of African descent. Oh, when people on the island (which is in many ways like a small town) hear his last name (Munier), they know he is "the son of the mulatto*)

(*I don't even know if it's "OK" to use that word any more, or if it's considered derogatory. The translator of the novel uses it, though).

Georges is able to "pass" as European, though once people know his heritage, they assume things about him. This leads to a certain degree of bitterness on Georges' part. We first see him as a boy - during, in fact, the battle between the French colonial forces (and the "native" troops siding with them) and the English, who wish to (and ultimately do) take over the island. Georges is impressed by his father's bravery, and upset by the way one of the French colonialist planters treats him after the battle.

Georges' father (presumably, their mother is dead) sends him and his older brother Jacques away, to France, to be educated, and for their safety. While there, Georges works at developing a nearly super-human self- control...and has the one goal of returning home and "showing them," whatever form that may take.

Georges is an interesting novel in two senses: first, as a nineteenth-century commentary on race, slavery, and colonialism. And I learned something about Dumas that I did not know before: he had some African heritage. (one of his grandmothers - I believe it was - was Afro-Caribbean). Reading the novel, at one point, I thought, "This author has some rather progressive ideas for a 19th century French novelist." Well, apparently, Dumas' own treatment - or the way he saw others of his heritage being treated - factored in to that.

That's not to say his attitudes are totally "modern." He frequently refers to the slaves (Black Africans and also Muslims from South Asia) as "poor savages" and similar. And he does not seem to see too much wrong with the ownership of slaves (even Pierre Munier owns slaves), provided they are well-taken-care-of. And Jacques Munier has become a slave trader, though he doesn't "hunt" slaves; he rather buys them off of other tribes...reminding us that in some African countries in that day, slavery of captured enemies was a common thing. (And it still exists, though for different reasons, in the Sudan today).

Still, it's an interesting viewpoint, and I suppose in its day it was revolutionary that a man of mixed race could be the hero of a novel, and perhaps even more so that a Black African slave (Laiza) could be a man of great honor and courage.

Apparently, Dumas suffered some prejudice and rudeness as a result of his heritage. A quotation from him, in response to someone who insulted him about his background:

"My father was a mulatto, my grandfather was a Negro, and my great-grandfather a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends."

 Heh. I'm assuming he also accepted biological evolution by that statement, though technically "we came from monkeys" is not exactly correct.

But totally beside all of the commentary that one could make, it's a rollicking good story. It's exciting, and moving, and romantic (and not in the icky way). It's set in an exotic place - Dumas talks about some of the plants, and several times he mentions the tenrecs, which are pretty much unique to that area. The culture is somewhat exotic, too - with both Europeans and "Creoles" ("Creoles" here being people of European heritage, but born on the island) as well as the people of mixed race, the Lascars (a Muslim group from India), Chinese traders, and so on. You can imagine the heat and languidness of the summer days as you read the book.

It also has many of the elements of nineteenth-century novels that I love: there is a ball (though it's not as happy an occasion as it could be). There are characters finding their true loves. There are rides through the countryside. There's a dramatic rescue of a damsel in distress.

And then there are other events: there's a hurricane. And a slave uprising. And battles at sea.

The book moves very fast, it's an exciting story (or at least I found it to be so). It has a lot of plot twists, especially as the end of the book approaches. In fact, the book ends not how I expected it would end. (But it ended how I had HOPED it would end).

The version I read was the "new" translation (the Modern Library translation) by Tina Kovers. I am sure that the quality of the translation in part makes the quality of the experience for the reader who cannot (or, in my case, doesn't care to) read the novel in its original language. I do know back in high school I tried to read The Count of Monte Cristo and either I had a poor translation or wasn't mature enough to cope with a denser book, but I remember it as being very slow and very dry and giving up a few chapters in.

I'm thinking, now, though, that I might chase down other of Dumas' work and read it, particularly if I can find translations similar in quality to the translation of Georges.  (Perhaps the Modern Library editions - which I love anyway, because they are nicely made books and appeal to the book-snob side of me - would be a place to start). I think I would like to read The Three Musketeers first, simply because the story is most familiar, and it seems like it would be similar (perhaps) to Georges in degree of "romance" (in the sense of being a good story, with lots of plot twists....I know a "romance novel" means something very different from a "novel written during the Romantic Period" and I have to admit, while I like Romantic Period novels, my few tries at "romances" have left me uninterested).

A synopsis (warning: big big spoiler for the end of the novel) is available here.

And I do highly recommend Georges if you enjoy novels, particularly ones set in exotic locales and with lots of action.

Today, at the Children's Time in the service, the leader said, "We're getting close to the end of Lent. Does anyone know what Lent is?"

One of the little boys piped up, "It's that fuzzy stuff that you get in your pockets!"

It took a little while for things to settle down. I suppose it could have been worse; he could have said "bellybutton."

One thing I finished knitting over break - and it was really a push, as I said, because I arrived on break with the first sock not quite up to the heel flap - were the Kew socks from Knitty. (Umm...fall 2006, I think).

I used Lorna's Laces, in a color called "Huron."



The two socks don't match perfectly in color...this is often an issue with variegated yarns; it seemed one skein had more blue in it, or the blue seemed to stack up more.

It's an interesting pattern to knit. I admit, on the leg, the first half of the pattern, the knit-plain rounds are tiresome because you have to move stitches from one needle to another (for the decreases in the next round to work out right).  The socks do fit a lot better than I thought they would: I thought they would be far too loose but the pattern doesn't have much stretch, so they fit right.

There are a lot of lace patterns that mimic leaves. And there are a lot of socks that use leafy patterns - there's this one, and the Overlapping Leaves socks in the Interweave socks book (and I do want to do another pair of those sometime). And Nancy Bush has a pair of Birch-Leaf socks in Gathering of Lace.

And there are lots more. Ravelry, if you're a member, lists many leaf-themed sock patterns. (I particularly like the free oak-leaf sock pattern from Knotions: you can get it here, even if you're not a Ravelry member)

And, I had almost forgotten it, but the Ravelry search reminded me: long, long time ago, I wrote a sock pattern involving a leaf-like stitch (and again, you can get it from that link, even if you aren't a member of Ravelry). Also from the long-gone Knitlist days, there are the leaves of grass socks

I guess leaves are just an inherently interesting decorative element. Or maybe lots of knitters, traditionally, cared about and were familiar with plants and nature. It does seem that there are a lot of leafy lace knitting patterns out there. I like that, though. I like having socks with leaves on them, feeling like I'm walking around with the thing I study memorialized on my feet.

I feel some better. I got the exam typed, got the grading done, checked on part of the research set-up I need for this weekend, and got the second exam partly written.

In addition to that, I helped a student set up an independent project (thank goodness, she's not too needy; I was able to tell her where stuff was and then go back to my office) and then later, went over to new-freshman enrollment day to spell a colleague who had to come back to set up a lab. (They were SLAMMED over there. I think I enrolled 6 people - not counting the one guy who didn't have any of his paperwork and therefore could not enroll but still had lots of questions) in the two hours I was over there. And it can take a good 20-25 minutes to work with someone, find out what they need, figure out a schedule (keeping in mind stuff like whether they work, whether they commute (and therefore prefer an all Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule if possible), if they have any remediation they need, and and and. I'm kind of tired now because (a) I find dealing with strangers kind of stressful and (b) the palpable fear coming off some of the new freshmen affected me. (It was also warm in the room where I was working).

Lots of new nursing majors; far fewer pre-med majors this year. Interesting.

I still need to go find the little cups for my soil invertebrate stuff, and do a plagiarism check (HEAVY SIGH) in the last batch of papers, and maybe finish and type up the next exam.

Tomorrow is Science Fair day again, so I have to kind of have the decks cleared here before I leave this afternoon.

I did finish two of the in-progress pairs of socks over break (Pictures to come later; I didn't have time to grab any this morning). I finished the Grandiflora socks, which actually came out a little tight (if I make the pattern again, I'm going to do the larger size) and Kew. I really pushed to get Kew done and kind of burned myself out on knitting for a few days.

I had also taken along the purple "simple" socks, but didn't get as much done on them. I seem to be in a situation now where, when I knit, I want something more complex to work on. I don't know why. I tend to bounce back and forth between wanting stuff that's really simple - all stockinette - and wanting stuff I have to pay attention to.

I did start a new pair - I was going to use some Dream in Color I had for the Karatsu (which are named not for dragonflies, as I said, but a pottery style) socks from Judy Sumner's book. But the pattern calls for three skeins of Shibui sock (which is nearly 600 yards) and they are knee-type socks, so I had no idea if the 450 yards or so of the Dream in Color I had would be enough, nor did I feel like trying to rewrite the pattern to be shorter. So instead, I started a pair of "Kimono" socks with the Dream in Color. It's a nice pattern - it's sort of a not-very-lacy lace, and relies mainly on yarn overs and ssks and k2togs for the pattern - none of the unusual fancy Japanese stitches that I have never worked and am maybe a little bit scared of right now. (There's one, on the Haiku socks, where you have to reach down three rows and grab loops, and I'm afraid I'd count wrong* or something)

(*I probably spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about whether I'm doing stuff wrong. I made a rather spectacular mistake yesterday in lab - we were doing tree and shrub ID and I called buckbrush, beautyberry. The only defense I can give is that the leaves are just barely out on things. One of my colleagues was along and she caught it, so the students don't know the wrong thing now, but I feel really bad about it, because this is supposed to be my "thing." I'm not good at allowing myself to make a mistake and move on, all evening long my Inner Critic was berating me for it. Especially with the spectre of Peer Review coming up)

So my compromise with my Inner Critic was to write up a list of what I Very Absolutely and I Am Not Joking Must Get Done! today. (I have no classes; it is Curriculum Contest). So far I've done one thing on the list of 6.

(I really, really don't like the idea of peer review. I understand the "why" and all, but the problem is, we all have such different styles that I worry that we're going to get lists of "strengths" and "weaknesses" where what one person declares a "strength" another will have declared as a "weakness" and then it will be all The Animal School again for me, where I damage my webbed feet trying to learn to climb trees, because one person told me a strength I had was a weakness, and that they recommended I do xyz instead, even though I don't do xy or z well...Also, it just seems to me, we have a department that works pretty well: our students graduate well-prepared, the ones who apply to grad or professional school tend to get accepted, the ones who apply for jobs in the field tend to get them, faculty evaluations (at least those I've seen, from mine and from those I've reviewed for T and P) are at or above the national averages. So why mess with it? Why make people like me - who are very insecure about their abilities - even more insecure? Why give people fodder to talk about "Do you know how Y teaches? I sat in on his class. He doesn't do discussion; it's all lecture!" and stuff like that. I just worry that this will negatively affect the collegiality of my department)

So anyway. I don't know. It doesn't help that I read things about Schools May Be Abolishing Tenure and such and wonder if in the future I'm going to have to interview for my job every year or something. Because really and truly, I never feel like I'm quite good enough. I never feel like I'm doing quite enough, or that I'm working hard enough. I could push myself more. I could be more monomaniacal about teaching and research - drop the piano, drop knitting, and STOP SURFING THE DAMN INTERNET. I don't know.

I suppose I'd find a way to make myself miserable if I didn't have this specific one.

A little recipe for today.

This is something kind of different - and maybe some people might consider it a little outrageous or dated. (It comes from a 50s-60s era cookbook: "Good and Easy." (It's a Betty Crocker book; a small, spiral-bound-with-hard-cover book - apparently they did a line of these, I have a copy of Cooking for Two that is the same format, and there's at least one more, a book on entertaining that has some wonderful luridly decorated cakes in it. Here's a picture of the book in question. It's from 1954).

It's called Baked Curried Fruit. It seems like something that would not be done today (at least, I've never had it) because of the overwhelming idea (at least that I've heard from some people "into" nutrition) that fruit must be eaten fresh and raw. And of course, the recipe has sugar and butter in it.

But it's good, and it's different, and it's interesting, and it would go well with a roast. I made this recipe last night as a trial - we're having a dinner at church on Sunday, ham is being served, and I thought this might be a good potluck dish. (I think it will go very nicely with ham).

I think it would also make an interesting pie filling.

The recipe is pretty simple. Like a lot of older recipes, it called for "Number 1 cans" and "Number 2 cans" (Stop laughing! The numbers correspond to ounce size. I have a conversion table in one of my newer cookbooks - I always have to look them up) . But you could sub any amounts of what you wanted.

The main thing is the sauce. You melt 1/3 cup of butter, stir in 3/4 cup of packed brown sugar and 4 teaspoons of curry powder. (I used a "sweet" curry blend from Penzey's; you could probably use a hotter curry and just use less of it). I found I had to add some water to make the syrup liquid enough. (You could probably cut out some of the butter and use water or the juice from the fruit instead...)

Then, you open your number 1 cans of pears and peaches (or apricots), drain them, arrange them in a 9 by 13 dish. Then you open your number 2 can of pineapple chunks, drain them, and add them. Then you add a few maraschino cherries for color. You pour the sauce over the fruit and pop the whole thing in a preheated 325 degree oven for 15 minutes, then baste, then bake 15 or so minutes more.

It's surprisingly good, for something so simple: it's not as sweet as fruit straight out of the can (despite the brown sugar, and when I make it again I might use less sugar), it has a nice complex flavor. (The spices that make up the sweet curry mix are many of the same ones that go in chai tea - so you could almost call this "Masala fruit" if you wanted to be uppity). The recipe as printed made enough for me to have a big serving of it at dinner (along with a salad, it was dinner), and maybe 2-3 smaller servings leftover. I think you could safely say it would serve 4 to 6, especially as a small serving as a sort of relish with ham or turkey.

Mah new ride...let me show you it.



This is Ladybug. I am - so far (and I realize it's been less than 24 hours, and I've driven maybe 12 miles total) very happy. The car handles well. It has a comfortable ride. And it fits in my garage, though I may find myself resorting to the old trick of hanging a tennis ball from the rafters at the point where I should stop the car (where the ball is touching the windshield) so that I don't risk smacking the back wall of the garage like I did a few times with Eggbert).

And the Sirius radio is most excellent. It occurs to me that I will be a much happier, more relaxed, and more PATIENT driver if I can listen to classical music in my car. (Which tells me that maybe taking out a subscription, when my 6 month trial is up, will be worth it to me).

Driving home after piano lesson, "Morning, Noon, and Night in Vienna" came on. And it just felt right. It made me so happy. (I really, really missed not having a classical station that I can access other than when I'm at the computer...I am coming to realize that now).

Say "hello," Ladybug:



I also feel somehow that Mike Rowe would be proud of me. And that makes me happy, too.

Picture to come later (if I have the energy once I get done with everything else). But:

Car has successfully been obtained. The name I had picked out will fit as it's the color I wanted. (I always expect something to go wrong at the very last minute).

The car is a bright-red (they call it "candy red") Ford Edge.

Her (yes, this car is a 'she') name is "Ladybug."

Yes, it's silly, but if you can't be silly about something like that, what can you be silly about. (I will now pause to ignore the objections from VW drivers claiming that only a VW product can be given a name with "bug" in it.)

I could probably also have decided the car was male, and named it Edward, because it sparkles in the sunlight. But that would have been even sillier.

She is also paid for, thanks to my father. (That's what I meant - I say with a bit of embarrassment* - when I say he "helped" me buy the car. Oh, he went through all the negotiation crap for me as well. He did it kind of without my knowledge - I went out shopping with my mom and when we got back, he was on the phone with the dealer here and had it nearly all worked out.)

(*And yes, it does embarrass me a bit. I feel like, at 41, I should be required to buy my own dang car. And go through the negotiations for same. I had actually been planning on either doing the 0% financing Ford has (and having to make a payment every month) or waiting until next spring, when a bond I am holding matures, and cashing that in.

Then again, if my dad is capable of doing it and it makes him happy to do so...and I think it did make him happy to be able to take care of it for me (he's retired and looks for things to do), then who am I to stand in the way of his happiness?)

Interestingly, I he paid only a few hundred dollars more for THIS car than was paid for Eggbert. (And I know, because I found the old paperwork when I got out the folder with the title for Eggbert in it). So maybe inflation isn't so bad after all. Or, basic-model cars are getting cheaper, despite the additional bells and whistles.

I felt a little sad abandoning Eggbert on the lot. He was a good, good car.

Then again: Ladybug has a free 6-month Sirius subscription. Being able to put the "Symphony" channel on and drive around town to classical music makes me miss Eggbert less. (Yes, I'm fickle that way).

I updated my insurance but they don't have the title totally ready, so I have to wait (ugh) to get the new plates. I really wanted to do so today - just to get it DONE with - but no dice.

(The dealer let me keep the old plate but made me promise I wouldn't just slap it on the new car without paying the excise tax. I told them about my colleague's ordeal and the finance guy said he knew of other people who got messed over that way.)

I had considered the Flex - unlike some people, I think it's cute. (Yes, I know, that's kind of a damning word for a car). It's kind of like the old 50s "Estate Wagons" re-envisioned. Or at least that's how I see it. Or, I think it looks kind of like what the love-child of a Mini and a Suburban would look like.

Two problems with the Flex, though:

1. It would not fit in my garage. It's really long...I'm sure it's bigger than the Windstar, which I can barely garage now. It's really a monster car...I didn't realize how large it was until I looked at it up close at the dealer. Or maybe it's not that large but it just seems very large.

2. Being able to carry 7 people means you will be asked on occasion to carry 7 people, whether you want to or not. (And if you're someone who doesn't drink alcohol....well, you can do the math).

One thing I like about the Edge is that you can fold down the rear passenger seats very easily and have a big cargo bay. Mainly what I need (and want, see number 2 above) is the ability to carry cargo...and carry cargo out of the rain (which is why a small pickup didn't appeal). Also, there's an optional heavy-duty rubber mat (which I am getting) that you can put in the back - so you can stack up your bags of soil or your grubby insect nets or your plant presses and not get dirt all over the carpet. (Yes, the cargo bay is carpeted, and I'm not in love with that, but you take what you can get).

(And of course it means I can also go antiquing and find cute things, even cute things up to 6 feet in length, and carry them back home in my car).

It took me an hour to clear everything out of Eggbert last night. I also found my old pair of field boots that I thought I had disposed of, and a pink cotton cardigan (not one I had knit) that I thought I had lost somewhere.

The new car, I swear I am going to be better about not loading it up with crud. I'm going to buy a plastic crate to keep my plant-identification books in, and maybe a second crate for some of the field gear I like to have close to hand (clippers, loupes, ziplock bags), but I'm going to do my best not to turn the new car into a filing cabinet/garbage can/junk drawer on wheels.

And here's another change, something that happened kind of fast over spring break:

I am almost certainly getting a new car.

My car (Eggbert) is over 10 years old. And while I've been very careful about maintenance, there are a few cosmetic issues. I think what precipitated the decision was my asking my dad if it seemed crazy to pay $600 for a repaint of the hood and the removal of a large dent in the driver-side door (acquired on our ice-day when I was backing out and hit my garbage can. The can is fine, FWIW). So he started talking up my getting a new car, and how he helped my brother and sister-in-law buy their last one, and how he'd help me.

And next thing I knew, we were up at a dealership test-driving cars and looking them over and all that. And then he called the dealer down here after getting a sample price, and finding that not only is it logistically easier, but it's not really any more expensive (especially factoring transport) to buy it here.

On the one hand, I'm kind of sad to get rid of Eggbert - he will be traded in* at the dealer (provided the price is OK). On the other hand, starting fresh with a new car, where it's still under warranty if anything goes kaflooey (that was my big concern: I'd happily keep Eggbert several more years but if something big failed, like, worth-more-than-the-car-is-now big, then I'd be stuck).

Eggbert was a good car. I guess trading him in while there's still some life in him means that maybe someone else, someone who can't afford a new car or even a very recent used car, will be able to have a reliable car that's had its guts well taken care of (I kept up with all the oil and filter changes, had the brakes rebuilt when it was time, the car has new-ish tires and a new-as-of-last-fall battery).

Still, I feel a little sad. Eggbert was the first car I owned and all, and there's a lot of history there. 

(*One oddity of Oklahoma car law: you leave your old plates/tags on the car when you give it up. I am not comfortable with that and am going to ask the dealer if I can keep the plate. I don't like the thought of my name still possibly being linked to that tag number in some infrequently-updated database. And I'm not just being paranoid: a colleague reports he got bills from those electronic toll roads (where they photograph your license plate and send a bill) for a number of months after selling his car.)

So I'm going to have to clear all the crap out of Eggbert (my rolling file cabinet) tonight, and then arrange to get the insurance changed, and get a new parking decal (and scrape the old one off before surrendering Eggbert lest someone try parking at the university without paying) and go to the tag office and all that.

And I'm going to have to learn to navigate with a new car. The good news is my choice (the Edge, and yeah, I know, it's not the most fuel-efficient car, but the way my time goes, many weeks I don't drive even 30 miles) drives a lot like my old car. I will have to relearn where to reach when I shift (to park, reverse, or shift to drive: this IS an automatic) because the gearshift is in the "wrong" place relative to where it is on Eggbert.

I have even tentatively named the car I want, provided they can swap out for the color I want. It's kind of a dumb name, so I will only share it if I actually wind up with the color it pertains to. (In the model I am getting, there are two colors I deemed acceptable, one being preferable to the other).

Woo. Spring cleaning around here.

I decided it was time to "upgrade" to the new way of laying things out. I was getting irritated with the early posts for a given month dropping off the page and not being "findable," and this was the easiest way I could figure out to get an "older posts" link on the bottom of the page.

But because Fillyjonks Don't Like Changes, you can see I tried to keep the color scheme (at least) familiar. The links are on the "wrong" side for now; if they bug me too much I'll move them or maybe just leave them be.

I did edit out blogs I either no longer read, or who have stopped updating. I may add more in coming days. (And if someone I happened to cut out is really unhappy - or has started updating again - e-mail me and I can reinstate you.)

I didn't get as much knitting/crochet as planned done over break, but here is one little thing:



This is Pebble. Pebble is crocheted from the Gumball the Kitten pattern. I named mine Pebble as the various body parts made me think of pebbles because of their shape. I also added whiskers because he looked funny without them.

As I was working on the kitten, it made me think of something:



"It's dangerous to go alone! Take this."

Which comes from this:


You can see from that second photo just how small Pebble is (everyone tells me I have small hands). I was surprised at how small the pattern turned out. (Also, the assembly instructions are, to put it politely, "pithy" in the extreme (in the Elizabeth Zimmerman sense). I'm not sure I got the various parts together as intended, but they work well enough.)

Well, I was driving back yesterday. And around noon, I flipped on one of the Dallas news channels (not that they ever run much news on the weekend; it's all investment programs or home-upkeep programs or stuff like that). And the weatherman said, "Be prepared for a couple inches of snow."

And I was all, "Wait, what?"

And I listened again later. And I checked the Weather Channel when I got home.

But no, it wasn't a mistake. This is your "wait, what?" picture for March 21. Remember I live in Southern Oklahoma, like 20 miles from the Texas border, and we usually don't see this much snow during the height of our "winter" (January.)



There were not more than 20 people in church (well, not counting the choir) this morning.

I'm back.

Break was good, but the main thing I have to say now is: what happened to spring? This was not predicted, was it? (I kind of watch the weather for my home area even when I'm out of town.)

The woman who sat across from me at dinner last night on the train remarked, "My brother says they're supposed to get 4" of snow in Oklahoma City" (I guess it's more than that, now?)

I drove back through cold rain. Not heavy enough to be dangerous and I am glad to say it mostly cleared before I pulled into the Kroger parking lot to get groceries. But it's cold here!

****

I had remembered Saturday last was my father's birthday, but had forgotten until shortly before leaving that it was his **75th** birthday, which is a fairly big deal (At this point, I think he has lived longer than either of his parents did. But then again, medical science, especially in terms of early diagnosis of stuff, has gotten that much better in the past 30 or so years. And unlike both of his parents, my father never smoked.) My brother and sister-in-law also came down for the day so I got to see them as well. (And got my birthday present from them, just a little late).

****

I also got my taxes done. And that was a big job, because on the advice of my financial planner (i.e., my uncle the stockbroker), I had invested in a resource company that involved having to calculate depletion for the past couple years of doing taxes and fill out a Schedule E. Never again. Even if it looks like a good investment (This one turned out not to be; but then again, the capital loss from it helps net me a decent refund).

And yeah, I am getting a decent refund. (I have my withholding set a little high, just in case of a capital gain; I'd rather do it that way then get stuck having to pay the quarterly estimated payments - as happened to my dad one year). I'm thinking this year, instead of putting all of it in my "OH NOES WHAT IF SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENS" fund and never touching it unless something terrible DOES happen, I'm going to spend some of it.

I saw a very sweet, very cute set of mini-cocottes by Le Creuset - tiny, single-serving Le Creuset ovenware, like you could use for heating up French Onion Soup with the toasted bread and cheese on it. (I tend to feel that onion soup without bread and cheese just isn't worth my bothering with). There's also a nifty cookbook for them that features what looks like a baked chocolate pudding on the cover...and I can think of other things the cocottes would be useful for, even making shirred eggs. (Yes, yes, I have ramekins. But these things are just so cute.) This was at the gourmet shop in my parents' town. (I have nothing like that ANYWHERE near me - the closest thing being the Brown Bag in Ardmore, and they don't have as extensive a selection of those kinds of things, being mainly a "bridal registry" type of store).

I've also been contemplating buying a "real" cast iron skillet - the kind you have to season, and then be very careful about the cleaning of - because there are some things that are just better made in case iron than in other types of skillet.

*****

I mentioned my mother's friend Faith, who passed away this last fall. One of her daughters, working to clear out the house, brought a couple boxes of supplies and one of those PVC ("Q-Snap") quilting frames. My mom already had one, and asked me if I wanted it...I decided to take it, thinking, maybe if I put two quilts in two frames and swap out working on them, I will be less likely to get bored and will get more quilting done. (I do have to wait on her figuring out a way to send the thing to me; the longest pieces are about 3' long and we didn't think there was a way to bundle it up so I could take it back on the train without losing bits). I also wound up with a few pieces of fabric, some old buttons (some of them look quite old -figurals of scottie dogs, which were at peak popularity in the 1930s. Faith was not quite 90, so I'm guessing the scottie dogs were either from her mother or her grandmother). I also took some stencils for hand-quilting. I admit I felt a bit bad pawing through all the accumulated stuff, but my mother remarked, "I know Faith would rather you took and used some of these things than that they sat around or wound up in a thrift shop." Still, it will be odd to use the stencils that she had written her name and address on (so they would come back to her when she loaned them out).

OH! And one other good thing:

You might remember a man named Brian that I commented about some months back (in November) - that he was part of the driving force behind an enormously important (and quite successful, in terms of the number of people helped) soup kitchen here? And how he had developed cancer?

I heard Monday that the doctors are concluding that his cancer has gone into remission. Granted, that's not as great as a cure - but apparently given the type of cancer, it's a very good outcome. He has one more round of chemo but then will probably be OK.

Like one of the women down at church said: oh, the prayers that went up for him and his family from this county! So it's really good to see that he's doing better.

There is a line in one of the lesser-known songs from "Mary Poppins":

"Every good thing you do, comes back to you."

And despite my constant nattering about people not saying thank you for stuff, or about how a person only gets trouble as thanks for trying to make things right, I really do believe that, on some level, that's the case.

Now, maybe it doesn't happen (as I have had it happen sometimes) where you figuratively dig in your pocket to give to some cause, and then a few days later, something happens so that you make back the money you gave away. Maybe it's just that you're more positive and grateful in general, and you see stuff that's good happening.

Today, two little things I had done: first, donated some money towards buying baby stuff for a couple expecting a child, where the husband's out of work, and they need stuff. And second, I had run home to grab some yeast - one of the lab classes needed it on short notice, the prof for the class was nowhere to be found, and the TA was afraid she'd have to dismiss the lab with no lab to do.

And while I was home, I grabbed my mail.

And there was a package from Amazon. Addressed to "fillyjonk" in addition to my real name, so I knew it had to be from a blogreader.

Upon opening it, I found it was a copy of "Women's Work: the first 20000 years," which is about the fiber arts.

And an extremely nice and touching note, which I cut out and stuck inside the cover of the book so I could keep it.

I'm taking the book with me to read on over break.

Thank you so much. (My policy is not to name donors unless they want to...I know some folks prefer to stay anonymous).

****

I decided not to take Thermal with me to work on. Two reasons: first, no room. Second: I don't feel like winding off more balls of wool (I have the one I'm working from wound off, and one more - true, that's probably all I'd need as it moves so slowly). But I am taking the Honeycomb vest - which reminds me, I need to dig out the pad of post-it notes where I was keeping track of the increases and tuck it in too.

And I'm taking the Kew socks, and the nearly-done Grandiflora socks. And I've wound off a skein of pretty, variegated-pink "Heritage" sockyarn, and my "Lunar Zazzle" (sort of a very pale turquoise with pink overtones - it's a Dream in Color) sockyarn. And I've got the "Knitting Socks East and West" (Judy Sumner's book) packed - the pink is going to become the Haiku socks, and the turquoise is going to be the dragonfly ones (Karatsu? I think that's it).

(I really like that book. It has a lot of fascinating and different patterns in it. I also want to make Ninja and Karate and Tsunami and several others out of there)

I really, really am looking forward to having a break. It kind of sneaked up on me (just like Thanksgiving does in the fall) but I am really ready for it. And I've got my book on Sparta, and the new book I received today, and a copy of a new-ish translation of Alexandre Dumas' "Georges" (a novel set in the Caribbean - apparently the hero is a Caribbean man of African descent).

And, bleah, all my tax paperwork.

I also finished reading "Henry V" last night. (My original geeky thought would be to finish it on St. David's Day - March 1 - seeing as I started it on St. Crispan/Crispian's day...both those figures are mentioned in the play. But I got distracted by other things).

I enjoyed it. Not my favorite ever (that still belongs to Twelfth Night), but very interesting all the same.

One thing that strikes me about the play is that even in the middle of very serious action (the fact that people are going to be killed, it is warfare), there are some extremely comic moments (with Nym and Pistol and Bardolph...two of whom are no longer alive at the end of the play).

The portrayals of the representatives of the different countries (Wales, Scotland, Ireland) are interesting if a bit uncomfortable. (That said, I still like Fluellen a lot; he is what C.S. Lewis would probably refer to as a "brick.") I'm sure those characters were a bit of English jingoism inserted for the audience's benefit. (Makes you wonder about the portrayals of people from other countries in movies and such today).

I also was struck by the fact that the speech to the delegation from France (at the very end) starts out with this extremely formal language filled with honorifics and such, and then, after the French king and queen have left, and Henry is 'wooing' Katherine, the speech between him and his nobles devolves very quickly into double entendres.

I also found the Chorus an interesting feature, always going on about "We know we can't adequately capture the scope of what really happens on the battlefield on stage; please forgive us and use your imaginations." Makes me wonder who was the first playwright to break the fourth wall; surely Shakespeare was not the first? Maybe some of the Greek dramatists did so as well? (Would Shakespeare have known anything of the Greek dramatists?)

I don't feel quite knowledgeable enough to comment on either the whole issue of history and how it is used (essentially the topic of the "modern" essay at the back of the edition I had) or to determine if the play is a celebration or a condemnation of war. (I think in some respects, it is both...)

Probably Henry V is one of the top five or top ten plays in terms of being quoted regularly. There are others that are less commonly quoted. (I was not even aware, until reading the final essay in my little Folger edition of this play, that there was a Henry VI. I knew of Henry IV...in fact, a copy is on my bookshelf...but not Henry VI.)

I still think I like the idea of making it a life plan to read all of Shakespeare. ALL. Not just the plays I previously knew the existence of.

But, I think the next one is going to be Merchant of Venice, because that's on the top of the stack. And it's supposed to be more of a comedy, even though I've been roundly warned by various commentators that the treatment of Shylock in the play (who is Jewish) is not at all nice, especially by modern standards.

Another thought... "Once in a Lifetime" - having listened to it again, and really listened, not half-listened while doing something else.

It's a song I find strangely comforting. I don't think it's just the "someone else has felt this way, where they sometimes feel like screaming 'What have I DONE?!?!'" but there's also something more to it. Something very accepting of the fact that life is maybe not what we expect it to be...but despite all the changes that distress us, on some level, things are "same as it ever was." And there's the whole passages about the water...and I don't think those are random; I think Eno and Byrne were very conscious of all the healing metaphors and images related to water. And very possibly all the rebirth imagery, which is most explicit in Christian baptism.

***

I gathered up allllll my tax stuff. Plus the copies I made of the filled-out forms from last year, because I have one complicated tricky thing I have to do on the taxes and seeing how I did it last year will help.

I'm also contemplating projects. I think I'm going to take both Honeycomb and the Thermal sweater (I have to wind off the rest of the wool for Thermal). And probably the socks-in-progress in hopes of getting somewhere on them.

I also think I want to take a just-brand-new, never-before-started project, to have something new and different and fun.

I think this has just been a challenging semester and I've not taken as much time for myself as would ideally be good for me.

****

The image came up the other day - in a discussion - about the idea of the oxygen masks on the airplane, and how when they give the instructions on how to use them, they tell parents or people who are otherwise traveling with people who can't quite fend for themselves that they need to put their own oxygen mask on first, before they try to help their child (or the other person). In other words: if you're not getting enough oxygen, you're not going to be able to help other people, no matter how much you might want to.

And that's not really the same thing as the cynical quotation from Frank Cross (played by Bill Murray) of "Scrape 'em off, Claire: if you want to save someone, save yourself."

I think it's hard in our society to find the right balance. Too many people are too interested in figuratively 'scraping 'em off,' but the opposite of that is not winding up gasping for oxygen while you are checking to be sure everyone else has their masks on.

I tend to try to want to make sure that everyone's got their oxygen masks on, figuring I can hold my breath for long enough while I do that. And then I get frustrated when people seem to keep demanding stuff of me, and I begin muttering "Scrape 'em off, Claire." And then I get sadder because I know that's not the way to be.

And I find that increasingly, I can't always handle all the stuff I used to be able to handle; I don't know if it's just a feature of getting older or if I have some of the idealism I once had burned away, or what, but there really are times I want to look at people and go, "oh, can't you solve your own problems?"

SRS SOX strikes again!

Doubtless, you've seen this meme all over the place:



(And yes, there is something a bit creepy about that cat's face)

Well, the SRS SOX can go that one better:

It's funny how some songs from the 1980s look increasingly idiotic as time passes, but some still hold up well - and maybe even seem to mean more, as we gain maturity.



I think this Talking Heads song is one of the best ways of capturing the puzzlement that someone in midlife feels. (Or at least, in the cases where someone=me). Where you walk around asking yourself, "How do I work this?" and "Well, how did I get here?" when you should really probably be looking at the flowing water instead.

The song makes more sense to me now than it did when I was in high school.

Finally.

Yesterday afternoon was the first time since I came down with this stupid virus that I started to feel kind of OK again. I hadn't realized how tired, and easily-overwhelmed, and moody it had made me until I stopped feeling that way. I think my energy level is finally getting back to where I expect it to be.

I managed to do about half of the normal work-out this morning. I could have done more, but in the past, when I've worked out too hard right after being sick, I've wound up giving myself an ocular migraine, which I really don't want to have to deal with during teaching today. Especially not since lab this afternoon is going to be the soil "critters" lab, and I usually wind up having to look through the microscope to help students identify things.

I also finally got the balance ball filled up with air to the right point - yesterday afternoon I took it back out to my car (that's where I keep the air compressor; it's one that plugs into the car's cigarette lighter) and blew it up until I could just barely dent it with my thumb. So now it's tall enough and it's not too squishy.

(The little air-compressor set up has been very useful: on the set of tires I had before this set, there was one that had kind of a slow leak and I managed to limp along for a while by just periodically reinflating the tire. And I've used it at Youth Group when the basketball got deflated. You're really a hero to teenage boys if you can fix a basketball that has gone flat. I actually have quite a tool box in the back of my car now: the air compressor, a toolkit of stuff including wrenches, bottles of water, lots of maps...)

I will say it's mildly amusing to me that I finally got feeling better almost in time for Spring Break. (At least I won't have to travel while sick, which is a good thing).

SPAM: You are doing it wrong.

I received a spam (well, really a SCAM spam) message today. The text of the message was in the subject line, which makes me think the person sending it out was a rank amateur.

Text of the message/subject line:

"YOUR OUTSTANDING PAYMENT This Is To Notify You That After Our Meeting Today With The President, Accountant General Of The Federation, Office Of The Senate House, And House Of Representatives We Came To A Conclusion That We Have To Pay You The Sum Of Us$10.7 Million As Your Contract Entitlement. The Payment Will Come To You Via Cash Delivery; Therefore You Are To Re-Confirm The Following 1.Your full name 2. Full address 3. Direct Phone 4. Occupation,5.age Yours Sincerely,LT JAMES MORGAN"

As my grandmother used to say: Go on, pull the other one.

Okay, so in a question about the definition of Darcy's Law (which governs water movement in saturated systems) on an exam, I had as one of the false choices, "In situations where there is both pride and prejudice."

Someone actually chose that as their choice. I do not know whether to laugh or to cry.

Y SO SRS?

Apparently there is an attempt in the fashion-world to revive the trend of socks-with stilettos.

IMHO (and in other people's opinions) it doesn't really work. As Charles said: wispy shoes require wispy socks; serious socks demand substantial shoes.

Which is why, more often than not these days, I'm wearing my handknit socks with some chunky clogs (which I will need to replace soon, I see...)



(Actually, going through my flickr stream, I'm struck by how many of my socks are lace, or odd bright colors...and therefore, probably not describable as serious. But still not something I'd wear with stilettos. If I wore stilettos, that is.)

I GUESS it looks like it's getting bigger.



This is Thermal as of last night. It still lacks 2" before I divide for the placket.

Two things:

1. My next sweater project is going to be worsted weight.

2. Once this is finished, by golly am I locking it up in some kind of a bugproof container. I don't want to pull it out this coming December and find a gnaw-hole in a cuff or something.

***

I've been warned by several people (including one medical-type person) to count on the after effects of the virus lasting for maybe three weeks.

Crud.

At least next week is spring break, so maybe by relaxing (and getting some better meals; I really have been doing the grab-and-run thing this week, eating lots of cereal, eating lots of just-fruit for a meal...I could possibly be anaemic now that I think of it) I can finally kick the rest of this thing.

I really do think whoever makes the academic calendar is fairly wise here; just at the point in the spring when we have almost given up hope and are having to bite our tongues to keep from yelling at students, then comes spring break. (In fall, we get Fall Break, which is a lot shorter, but it is enough to make a difference).

Of course, that means I have a hundred little errands to run this week PLUS find time to pack (gotta remember all my tax paperwork - I plan to do my taxes while on break).

And I do want to look up some of the "classic" papers on population biology, as my grad student is needing to do a summer "special studies" on that topic, but that won't be a big hassle to do.

But at least Friday night, God willing, I will be sitting in a compartment on a northbound train with the book I started reading this weekend on the Spartans, and a few days of not doing anything other than what I want to do. (Well, and my taxes).

I also will note I've doubled my calcium/vitamin D intake in the somewhat desperate (and perhaps misguided) hope that part of the crud I'm feeling is a lack of vitamin D. And I started taking flaxseed oil again, though I'm not sure I've ever seen any effect from it.

What knitting I did over the weekend was to work on Thermal. I was greatly hopeful that I would get up to the point where I divided for the placket. But this sweater seems to have been designed by Penelope: no matter how long you work on it, it seems not to grow any longer. And it makes me sad. I hate the "Groundhog Day" feeling where every day seems the same and no progress gets made.

(I don't aspire to greatness. I just aspire to being satisfied with what I can do. But then again, for me, that may be as unattainable as true greatness.)

I also came in this morning to a very demanding e-mail from a student who (a) interpreted my "you must notify me in advance if you are missing an exam, unless it is a documented medical emergency" to mean that being sick with the flu for over a week is a medical emergency. (I guess I have to reword for next semester to say, "UNLESS YOU ARE IN A COMA"). And who interpreted my "you have to make up the exam - after I OK it - before the next exam" to mean "As long as you ask for a make up any time before the next exam, you're golden." And who finally, he as much as told me, "You will be giving me the make up exam after class Tuesday."

Seriously? I want to weep. Or throw up. Or something. I let the guy live because I'm not prepared to deal with the butthurt that telling him that he has violated no fewer than three of my syllabus policies would cause. And because I already had an essay form of the make up written from a prior semester. So I told him: Okay, but you will be taking an essay test. Just not after class Tuesday because I have things I have to do.

I don't know. I became a professor, in part, in the hopes of being treated with a little respect. Apparently I was lied to when people told me being a college professor was a respected career. I feel like a servant a lot of the time, and not in the good "Faith based" way, like when you serve food at a soup kitchen or something - where you are genuinely helping out and making a difference. A lot of times I feel like my "service" is just letting already entitled people feel more entitled. I know, I have to get tougher, but like I said: I just don't have the energy to deal with the whining, the complaining, and the "I'll take it to the DEAN! I'll have your job for this!" that sometimes calling someone on their behavior causes.

I think part of the problem is I'm still borderline sick, but feel the need to push myself. And it seems to me, whenever I get a respiratory virus, one of the after effects is that I feel kind of "down" for several days to a week as I'm getting over it. I suppose it's that so much of my energy is devoted to my immune system - and I am not exercising for fear of DRIVING THE VIRUS INTO MY HEART!!!11!!! and getting myocarditis (as I was once warned, maybe inaccurately).

I will never ever discount the possible antidepressant effects of exercise because I see it in myself. Okay, maybe I'm not clinically depressed or anything, but I know I feel much better - not just physically better - when I can exercise. So I could see how maybe someone could use it as part of a treatment plan to help them get better.

But yeah, the Star Teacher story line makes me twitch. It's unrealistic. Well, maybe there are a few Jaime Escalantes out there - but most of us are no more star teachers than every guy in the NBA is a Michael Jordan. And I think what it does is it discounts the efforts of the people who are good and solid, if not "stars."

I think maybe there's some tie-in with the whole World Of Self-Esteem thing there, but I'm too tired right now to hash out the connection. But there's something...something about people expecting themselves to be Great, maybe even without effort, and the idea being that, if you're not absolutely Great, there's something very wrong with you, that you're not caring enough or trying hard enough or whatever. And I have terrible issues with feeling like I'm not good enough no matter what I do. (As I said on ITFF, concerning faculty evaluations and the expectations thereof: "It's as if universities are Lake Woebegone: All professors are supposed to be above average.")

I don't know.

The stores are a small locally run grocery (Green Spray) and the local Wal-Mart. So it's not the same chain. I don't know. I mean, I do use some of the generic products and in my experience, house brands are as good as (and in a few cases, better than) the national brands, but I do like having a choice. (And the wal-mart house brand used to be "Sam's Choice," now it's "Great Value." "Sam's Choice" LOOKED more upscaley and yes, I'm spoiled, but that does kind of matter to me.)

I'm wondering if my having gotten sick is partly a result of some of these worries building up. It does seem that when I'm stressed out, that's when I get sick - that usually I can fight stuff off.

This is not the usual sunny cheerful post. Go ahead and skip it, I will not be offended.

Some years back, there was a show on MTV. I have no idea if it still is or not. It was called "The Real World." It was one of the early "reality" shows (Scare quotes because even when I was watching it as a callow 20-something, I realized there had to be come creative editing going on). The tagline of the show always bothered me: "What happens when people stop being polite and start being 'real'."

It sounded to me like they were saying impoliteness was something to strive for. That to be in a place where you considered the feelings of others was somehow unreal.

And that went against everything I had been taught.

And yet, still I watched it. It was somewhat of a train wreck, it was hard to look away from. I remember one character who apparently made it his goal to offend as many people as possible - until he was kicked off the show.

I do not understand that. I totally do not understand someone being as offensive as possible, then blaming everyone who gets upset with him or her, and saying "That's just how I AM, man, just how I am." And then being upset when people don't want to associate with him or her.

Actions carry consequences.

I have, several times in my life, either been called upon, or taken upon myself, the role of peacemaker. It has never gone well. Usually the two aggrieved parties have wound up turning on me instead. Or I've been "blindsided" by a "surprise" meeting to criticize everything I had done. Or when I and others did what we believed was the best possible thing, one upset person went over our heads and overturned our decision

And yet, somehow, I forget those things, and I keep trying to make the peace between groups of people.

I'm almost to the point now of saying NO MORE. NEVER AGAIN. Where, if I see a problem a-brewing, I will just look at it, shrug, and walk away. No one likes a busybody, even if they are just trying to help. I will just let personal conflicts blow up in the future. If people come to me looking for adjudication, I will shrug and say I am too busy, or that I did that a few times and wound up paying for it, or that they are older than I am (true in some of the cases I've been involved with) and they should know how to fix their own problems.

If I can overcome my own personality to do this. I WANT harmony, darn it. What I want even more though is for people to like me.

I also have a couple of students - well, I have a couple of students who are pretty wonderful and should balance these guys out, but still - I have a couple of students that, every day they are in class (they don't even bother to show up every day), they carry a constant, ongoing, conversation in the back row. I've stopped and stared at them until they shut up. I've spoken to them. I've done everything short of ridiculing them in front of the class (which I cannot bring myself to do) to try to let them know that what they are doing is NOT. COOL.

I realize it's a big world and it takes all kinds to make it, but to me, it feels like it's not too much for me to ask for people to shut up and listen, you know, especially, maybe, when I'm giving instructions of how to do stuff in lab?

I also have the Laptop Brigade now in another class. And the room is configured in such a way that I can't easily walk behind them to see what's on the screens - so I don't know if they're legitimately taking notes, or if they're updating their facebook pages. I admit I'm reaching the point of not caring: if students don't want to pay attention, fine, they can take the D they earn. But on the other hand: when I go to trouble to look stuff up, when I try to find the most up-to-date information on, I don't know, stem cells or something, and a critical mass of the class is "checked out," it just is very discouraging. And when I try to start discussion, I get met with blank looks and silence.

And I tell myself: if you were a better teacher. If you were more interesting, more inspiring. You could get these folks to pay attention. Because that's the storyline we have now: Star Teacher encourages even bored pupils! And by extension: if you can't get everyone in your class interacting and into it, you're not a Star Teacher (and you'd be better off digging coal or something else). And of course, that doesn't help my fears about upcoming peer evaluations, or about the fact that I've really put off applying for Full Professor for too long and I need to do it this fall. (I honestly don't think I deserve it...which is why I keep putting it off).

There's also the issue of the economy. Of my perception (despite what any in the news are saying) is that it's getting worse, and it's going to get much worse before it gets any better. I realize I'm triangulating from only a few small points: one individual giving up a retail business, lots of empty storefronts when I was in McKinney last, rumblings about state economies being a lot worse than they are, more generic products showing up at the grocery, some of the more expensive brands being dropped by the local grocery...and it makes me worry. The big worry is that things will get really scary-bad, that they will wind up having to RIF people at my university, and (as my department is one where people tend to stick around for a long time), as I am actually one of the junior members, I will be one of the ones let go. And literally, if I were to lose my teaching job, I don't know what I would do. I mean, I probably COULD limp along (seeing as the house is paid off and I could drop having cable and cut back in other places) doing something like waiting tables, but I think I lack the temperament for doing so. And if the university cuts back, that means that there will be fewer people eating out...so fewer jobs of that nature.

And yeah, I have the "six months to a year" saved up, but it would scare the daylights out of me to spend money out of my savings with no money coming in.

So there's that worry over my head. That feel, when I'm at work, of the "need to make myself seem indispensible" which has not been going so well this week because I am still kind of sick and worn out. And of course, having people "checked out" in my classes doesn't help that worry.

And then there's the, for lack of a better term, "first world problem" of my fear that all the fun stuff - all the nice and pleasant stuff - all the stuff that makes the daily slog worthwhile - is going to go away, snowed under by the fact that no one feels able to spend the money on it. Seriously? Every e-mail I receive from the local quilt shop, before I open it, I fear it will be a "so long and thanks for all the fish, but we can't turn a profit" e-mail. Or that my favorite magazines will go away (one of them already has...) And while I know a lot of stuff survived the Great Depression, and a lot of stuff became available after it ended...still.

And another issue I am dealing with: at what point does someone's asking for mercy and accommodation because they have various problems become an exploitation of the person they are asking? I have someone I am working with right now who seems to have multiple issues (or at least they've confessed to me). But they've also flaked on a couple things they were supposed to do, to the point where it became difficult for me. I like being nice to people, but there is a point at which I feel I should be permitted to get my own work done in a timely fashion rather than having to mop up repeatedly after someone who doesn't have their stuff together yet.

So, I don't know. Once again I'm treated to watching a few things fall apart around me (and in one case - the person referenced above - it's directly affecting me). My shoulder pain has come back and I find myself wanting to hide in my room and read books about ancient Greece or Rome (when I have to read non-fiction, and can't read fiction, that's a sure sign I'm distressed at the world).

You never know when or how something you say may affect someone.

I make an effort to be kind - in fact, in some instances, I may be too mild and too calm in front of classes, for example, when they do poorly on a test. But I tend to figure it is best to err on the side of not giving offense. Not so much to protect MYSELF from someone coming and yelling at me, but because, in the old saying attributed to Plato, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."

But once in a while, you say something that was unintentionally helpful.

I have one student in my ecology class. She is a very interesting person and strikes me as someone who cares a lot about learning and is very committed to her education. A week or two ago, she stopped me in the hall and quietly let me know she would not be in lecture the next day, as her grandfather had died and the funeral was during class time. I told her I was sorry to hear that, and that I understood her need to be absent that day.

Well, yesterday, she came into my office as I was working, and she said, "You know how you were talking about soils on Monday, and you were talking about how they form from rock?" And I said yes. She said that her grandfather had been a gardener and that he had had her help him work the soil, and he had talked about the soil and the rocks. And she said: "Thank you. That made me think about my grandfather and I smiled for the rest of the day."

I'm glad I was able to bring up a happy memory for her, especially that close to his passing. I mean, it was totally inadvertent and unknown on my part, but it still makes me happy that she felt that way.

I've been watching the birds. Particularly the past couple days when I was home sick and therefore was around more during the day.

I have a little tube-shaped feeder right outside my living room window, hanging up in a large privet that I decided to let live (because of the shade it provides). Because the new windows have fairly dense screens, the birds cannot see me, and I can get good close-up views of them.

I've been using a sunflower mix, though most recently I bought a spendy "colorful birds mix" that has sunflower, plus some of the "little" seeds (that I thought birds always rejected), plus nyjer thistle, plus some dried fruit.

I've gotten titmice and chickadees, though most recently mainly house finches (or are they purple finches? I have a hard time telling the two apart) and goldfinches have been visiting the feeder these past couple days.

The goldfinches are interesting. At first, several weeks ago, they were totally in winter plumage and I was wondering (at first) what they were (then I remembered what goldfinch winter plumage looked like). Now, the males are starting to "yellow up" a little around their heads so it's very clear what they are. (I wonder how long they will stick around in the spring...IIRC, they are a species that breeds later because of their use of thistledown in nests).

One male goldfinch, yesterday, in particular, was amusing to watch. The tube feeder has four perches with ports: two midway down the tube, two at the bottom. But the attachment point for the hanger up at the top also looks kind of like a perch. So this bird was hanging upside down from that top bit - and he kept pecking at the tube. I guess he could SEE the seed inside it, and having no experience with clear plastic, he assumed that the seed should be accessible, since he could see it. But he kept pecking...even after several minutes' worth of lack-of-success.

I actually felt kind of bad for him, but at one point said aloud, "Bless your heart, you're just not very BRIGHT, are you?" (I think he eventually figured it out and went down to the usual seed port).

I've also seen a couple migratory species: there were a couple of cedar waxwings (the might have been Bohemian waxwings, I didn't get that good a look at them, but cedar waxwings are a lot more likely here) eating the berries off my yaupon holly. And I've been seeing yellow-rumped warblers - what I originally learned as the (I think) more-poetically named Myrtle warbler (until they were rolled into one species with the similar western species Audubon's warbler).

My yard is not manicured - in fact, I have a big ugly brush pile in the back yard - and I think that's partly what brings the birds. (I get brown thrashers every year; they like hunting around the brush pile).

The seed is a little expensive - but then again, a $15 bag of it will last for several weeks. And the birds provide a lot of entertainment.

"Hinky" is a funny word. I think of it as a "Chicago" word, because I first heard it from people from the Chicago area, when I was going to grad school in Illinois. It seems odd to me, then, that Abby Sciuto would use it; isn't she supposed to be from New Orleans or somewhere like that?

I like "hinky" and I use it a lot - generally to describe something that's not quite right. (I've also seen it used to describe a suspicious action). I also like "wonky," though not in the political-wonk sense; I tend to think of "wonky" in terms of a table with one short leg that wobbles.

Sadly, lots of things in life are either hinky or wonky.

****

An e-mail this morning: they are going to begin doing background checks on new hires here. We (long-time faculty and staff) are all exempt. (I guess being employed >18 months is sufficient to prove you're not a criminal?). It's going to include sex-offender checks. Which I guess is a good thing, but I do hope they differentiate between the person charged with 'statutory rape' because they were 18 and had consensual sex with a 17 year old, and someone who actually, you know, forcibly raped someone. Or worse.

Undergraduate TAs are exempt. Which is interesting, because the one or two problems we've had have been with UTAs.

I suspect this is a result of the case in Alabama, though based on what I've read, I'm not at all sure a background check would have weeded Amy Bishop Anderson out.

I guess I'm glad they're doing this and not subjecting all faculty and staff to psychological evaluations or credit-score reviews or something. (Though that could still be coming, I suppose).

(I still think it's strange and not-quite-right that an employer could require a credit check for a job applicant and reject someone who wasn't an ideal credit risk. I suppose they have their reasons but it seems vaguely unfair to me.)

***

I got an e-mail advertising a new edition of a textbook I have considered in the past. I won't be considering this one, though: the author of the e-mail saw fit to use LOTS OF CAPITAL LETTERS FOR EMPHASIS and TONS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!!!!!! to talk up how GREAT!!!11!! the new book is.

Um, I was talking about "hinky" earlier? I immediately get a hinky feel off of any e-mail aimed at a professor that promotes a textbook in that way. You don't have to shout at me, and that's what ALL CAPS and LOTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! comes off as.

***

Yeah, I like avoiding lots of driving when I can. I think it's because in my adult life, prior to living here, I lived in Ann Arbor (didn't even have a car and most things were within easy walking distance - true, both of the groceries I had access to were small, expensive, and offered little choice) or in Normal, where just about anything you could want was within a 10 minute or so drive (well, maybe more than that if State Farm was changing shifts and you had to go on Veteran's Parkway). So yeah, I guess I am spoiled...and that 30 minutes is not door-to-door time; it's time-on-the-interstate. It's another 10-15 minutes negotiating my way into Sherman (and especially getting downtown to where the quilt place is).

I notice that the local quilt shop, in its yellow pages ad, says, "On site longarm services." I don't know if that means you can rent time on a machine (impractical for me; I'd have to try to complete quilting a quilt in a day) or if they have someone on-site who does the quilting. I do know they have a machine back in the back that usually has a quilt on it.

I have said - and now, watch, in a couple years I may actually be doing this - that if I had the room and the money, I'd buy myself a machine and do my own machine quilting myself. (Though, then again, a top-of-the-line longarm machine with all the outfittings is like half the cost of a modest new car).

And if I did that, I'd feel like I had to do quilting for other people to pay off the machine...and I'd be back to the same old issue of valuing other people's deadlines more than my own.

(The ideal situation? Have a couple of quilting friends and we all go in on a machine together...and keep it somewhere where we all had access, like we rent a studio together and do time-sharing on the machine. But I don't have a couple of quilting friends to do that with.)

So maybe I just need to push myself to hand quilt more...I worked some on the quilt in the frame last night, and in the course of my picking-up my sewing room and pressing fabric, I pulled out and pressed off the "sea glass" colored Yellow Brick Road quilt and the backing fabric: I want it to be my next handquilting project. I put it out in a prominent place so maybe seeing it will spur me on to finishing the quilt in the frame (which really, it's two fullsized blocks and maybe four half-blocks, plus the border, away from being done).

I think I'm mostly over the cold/virus thing. I still cough (wrapping my arms around my chest as tightly as I can to avoid stressing the muscles I've already pulled) and my voice is still croaky, but at least it doesn't hurt to talk any more and I don't have to keep a box of tissues within five feet of me.

Today was mostly a life-maintenance-stuff day. It was mid-semester assessment testing (no classes), so I didn't even go in.

Yesterday, while I was home on my SICK DAY, I did all the accumulated laundry (including all the fabric I had bought both over the weekend and back over the time when my drain was out of commission). I also got caught up on grading and wrote the next soils exam.

Today, "Mr. Electric" (Heh. Makes me think of "Mr. Plow") came out and fixed the light switch with far fewer problems than I anticipated. (How good it is to have a functioning overhead light again. And the fan! When it gets hot out again I will have no problems running the fan). It was a $70 service call but well worth it. (The switch actually had been hinky for a while...once or twice it turned itself off before I got it fixed. And sometimes it wouldn't "catch" and turn the light on. And once there was a wee little spark which, in retrospect, probably should have been when I called the electrician but as I said, I tend to be avoidant about such things).

I also took my car out for an oil and filter change, and wrote most of my ecology exam for next week while I was waiting on that.

After all that, I pressed off the fabric I had washed (which is a big job), sewed a few blocks on the latest quilt, and then put together the backs for the four tops I want to take in to be quilted. And I called the quilter. And she no longer does retail hours, which is a frustration, because it will be harder to get stuff to her and pick it up when it's done. (I should ask around and see if there's anyone here in town who does decent longarm work. As much as I have liked this person's work in the past, it's becoming increasingly complicated to get stuff to and from her. It would be nice not to have to drive 1/2 hour each way to drop off and pick up tops).

I had to aggressively piece the backs for the two Linus quilts; I misjudged how much fabric I would need. (Now, hopefully, the quilter will call back tomorrow and I could take them all down Friday...)

That's IT. I am taking the rest of the day as a SICK DAY.

I walked into my 9:30 class - for which I really didn't feel revved up, as it hurts a lot to talk - and found that the computer fix-it guys had removed the ceiling projector. And not replaced it. And not thought to warn ANYONE in the department - not even the secretary, who, had she known, would have let all of us know.

I could not face 75 minutes of trying to conjure up images of Galapagos tortoises and the route that the HMS "Beagle" took with my poor croaky voice and the chalk and chalkboard. So though I feel very guilty about doing it, I handed back the exams and released the class. At least they heard me speak and realized it would be a hardship.

I would have done it IF the projector had been there. But it just overwhelmed me to think of teaching with NO pictures and NO maps and NO graphs. (We don't have document cameras or anything else snazzy - just the lone computer, hooked up to a ceiling mounted projector).

Tomorrow morning at 8:30 is when the light switch should get fixed. It's nice for once to have an appointment, rather than a "we'll call when we can come out."

(There are no classes tomorrow. It is an assessment testing day. I was originally going to do fieldwork but (a) I am still really too sick (I probably should have taken a sick day today but I have just one class to teach) and (b) the ground is way too wet. So I'm going to leave after my morning class today and take all of tomorrow off in hopes of finally recovering from this thing. It's at the unproductive-cough stage, which is bad.)

Okay. This was weird.

Yesterday afternoon, I tried to pick up my big box of fabric that had come and was being held at the post office. But it was raining, it was crappy, it's hard to get into the post office lot (it's on the corner of two very busy streets). I drove down there just to find someone PARKED in the entrance - so I could not safely get in.

So I went home. I garaged my car, figuring I would not feel like going out again. But then the rain let up, I had finished my piano practicing for the day, and so I decided to try again.

And I could not get the garage door to open.

(Yeah, everything seems to break at once, doesn't it?)

By good fortune, I had found the existence of a button to open it - my garage is weird; it used to be (I guess) much longer than it is; one of the people who owned the place before I did had part of the garage walled off and turned into a sort of potting shed. The button was in there - so at least I was able to open my garage and get the car back out.

I tried changing the battery on the remote - that was my first thought, "Oh, the battery's dead." No go. I even climbed up (not a good thing when your ears are plugged from having a cold and screwing up your already-bad balance) and looked at the unit to see if the numeric code on the remote could have got shifted somehow. No.
And no, the power wasn't out.

So, I called the garage door place. It was nearly five so the receptionist said she'd have the guy call me tomorrow (today).

This morning, driving out, by force of habit, I hit the button on the remote.

The door closed. I sat there for a moment, gobsmacked, and hit the button again. The door opened. And again. It closed again.

Somehow, it apparently fixed itself. I don't know how but I do have to call the door place and tell them to cancel the call. So at least that's $100 or so I saved myself.

(I suppose it could have been "rebooted" in a very primitive sort of way: I unplugged the unit when I went to look at its code, and plugged it back in but didn't try the opener again after I had done that.)

I do still need to call the electrician though and see if he can come out and fix the switch to the bedroom light....

Oh, gah.

I forget how much I HATE having a cold. I'm not even all that sick anymore (the fever broke sometime late last night; I went from being chilled and having to wear my warmest pajamas to being way too warm and having to get up and change into something lighter weight).

The upside is that I got a couple inches knit on the front of Honeycomb when I didn't feel like doing anything but sitting yesterday.

And it's raining again today. It will almost certainly be too wet to do the fieldwork I planned for Wednesday. Which is probably all right, seeing as I probably won't be 100% by Wednesday and it's probably better for me not to push myself too much when I'm getting over being (even slightly) sick.