I ran home over the lunch hour (this is my longest day, and will be longer for having some 20 presentations to hear for one class). I graded a set of papers for another class (As I told a colleague: "It's like the Pacific Ocean. Lots and lots of "C.")
To keep myself in the chair, I flipped on TCM. (The main reason why I pay the extra $10 a month for "digital" cable. Well, that and the Nickelodeon cartoon channel...)
There was a funny old Ronald Reagan/Virginia Mayo movie on: "The Girl from Jones Beach."
I don't care much for modern "romantic comedies" (what I derisively call "meet cute movies") but I love the older, more "screwball" type of ones, where the situations are just unrealistic enough that you know they're not meant to be realistic. (I find that modern rom-coms seem to act as if "But yes, of course, two totally different people can meet when one knocks the other down on an icy street and then they fall immediately in love. Isn't that how it ALWAYS happens?")
In this one, Reagan played a "commercial artist" (referred to as a "girlie artist" by one of the characters). He falls for Mayo's character, who teaches evening Citizenship classes for Displaced Persons (I think this must have been a just-after-WWII movie). She is, of course, quite beautiful (and apparently, the "ideal woman," according to Reagan's character), but she's an intellectual, and has to be approached on intellectual grounds.
The "commercial artist," as it turns out, is somewhat of a "player," and so to win Mayo's character, he puts on a (bad) accent and pretends to be a Displaced Person taking her class.
I came into the movie part of the way through, in a scene set in the classroom, so I didn't realize that "Robert Benarak" was really "Bob Randolph" (those being the two aliases of Reagan's character). I also found myself going, "Dang. Reagan was REALLY BAD at accents." (not realizing it was SUPPOSED to be bad, a put-on). At times it sounded German, at others, Polish, and and other times kind of Scandinavian. (And Mayo's character comments at one point that the syntax of a particular sentence "sounds Greek.")
I'm sure the movie was no masterpiece but what I saw of it was certainly enjoyable. Reagan was quite good at comedy, he's funny to watch as the pretend-Displaced Person and he has a pretty good sense of timing. And Virginia Mayo was pretty good as the teacher role.
There were several lines and scenes - even in the short bit of the movie I saw - that made me chuckle. Like this: one of the female employees (a secretary, maybe?) at Randolph's firm comments to Eddie Bracken's character, "I'm too intelligent for the men I attract... and not beautiful enough for the men who attract me." Heh. I suspect, though, there are a lot of women who have felt that over the years.
Hopefully the movie will be on another time when I have a chance to watch all of it. I like those silly old comedies, where no one seems to take it too seriously. I think sometimes in this day and age movies (sorry: "films") suffer a bit from a tendency to take themselves too seriously. A lot of the older comedies, it seems like they were more intended as light entertainment than anything, without much of a pretension. (I think I like them for similar reasons I like the Strauss waltzes: the lightness, the fluffiness, the lack-of-anything-too-serious-of-the-outside-world-impinging-upon-them.)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Books currently read
I did a fair amount of reading over break. One of the things I like about train travel is the long uninterrupted periods of time, when you can sit and read. I often complete an entire book on a trip.
The main thing I read this trip was Christine Desdemaines-Hugon's "Stepping-Stones."
This is a description of several of the Paleolithic cave art in several caves in south-central France. Much of the book is description of the art - both "parietal art" (a term I did not previously know - it refers to the wall-paintings and other forms of immovable art) and "portable art" (things like spear-throwers and "batons" and other items that could be picked up and carried).
Desdemaines-Hugon does talk a bit about human evolution (though really, by the time "her" humans - the ones whose art she studies - made the scene, we were pretty much up to Homo sapiens, so the earlier forms were not as relevant to the work.)
Mainly, she is talking about Cro-Magnon man, with some references to the Neanderthals. (At the time the book was written - just earlier this year - it was still believed (and may still largely be believed) that there was no Neanderthal/ modern human crossbreeding. However, there's some recent DNA research that suggests in fact that there was. (The big news-story part of it was "Ozzy Osbourne has Neanderthal DNA!" Uh-huh.)
She points out that rather than being the brutish "cavemen" of legend, early humans were likely thoughtful and playful and they were artistic - they understood perspective and used it in some of their paintings. And they buried their dead rather tenderly, placing the body in a fetal position and often decorating it with beads and even, in some cases, providing food - whether for "the journey" of the deceased person, or as a propitiation to whatever their understanding of the Divine was, we won't ever know. But the fact that they buried their dead in that way suggests to me that they had some concept of the Divine and perhaps of an afterlife.
Desdemaines-Hugon makes a great effort not to ascribe too much motive to anything being described. (I'm not sure the right term for giving inappropriate "overinterpretation" is in anthropology; in ecology, if you attribute human motives to an animal, it's called anthropomorphism). But it's tantalizing to speculate.
A couple of things struck me: she notes that most of the caves do not seem to have been dwelling-places: there is far less "trash" than you would expect (at most, there are the paint-pots left behind, and perhaps a few spear-points, maybe as an offering of sorts). And in the caves that were not disturbed until modern anthropological methods came to the fore, one thing that was noticed was that many of them had relatively few foot-tracks in the sandy or clayey floors. (Yes, some of the caves have thousands-of-years-old foot tracks in them.)
Also, a lot of the paintings and symbols were placed in out-of-the-way areas, places that wouldn't normally be seen by someone just sitting by a fire in the cave. And a lot of the paintings would have taken some effort - lying on a scaffold or squeezed into a tiny area - to do, meaning that they weren't done "just" because they were easy and fun.
(And in some areas, there's evidence of outdoor dwellings - pits with places where stakes may have been placed to make a sort of yurt using animal hides).
Which makes me think that the caves must have had some spiritual significance to the people. That they didn't paint them "just" for art or "just" for fun. I wonder if the caves were seen as some sort of a womb image...there are at least a few "how people got here" stories around the world that involve people coming up from underground through a cave. And maybe the caves were seen as kind of a mother figure or something, and the art was a sign of respect or love or asking or thanking or any of the thousand reasons why people pray today. Maybe the paintings were done and never looked at again, maybe it was even taboo once a cave was "finished" to go back in and examine it again.
The "portable art" is also interesting. It seems to be what the author specialized on for her graduate and current research, and I wish she had spoken more about it. A lot of the objects have symbols on it, or very simplified, codified versions of animals (an eye, an ear, and a mane, to represent a horse, for example). And again, it makes me wonder: could this have been an early stab at some kind of symbolic/written language? I think from what I've read, cuneiform (slightly less than 5000 years ago) is the earliest verified writing, but there's some carving from about 8000 years ago in China that MAY be an earlier form. (Surely written language has multiple origins? It didn't start in one place and then spread?) And I wonder if a symbol-language would even be considered a form of writing.
It's sort of - I think "numinous" is almost but not quite the right word - to contemplate these people, who lived almost unimaginably long ago. 12,000 years ago - actually, towards the end of the time period Desdemaines-Hugon considers - that's even before the end of the last Ice Age. Christ was born some 2000 years ago. Even documents from 500 years ago can be hard to interpret.
Some places in the caves the people who painted them have left "negative handprints" - put their hands up against the side of the wall and blown pigment around them, so the negative space is the shape of their hand. Desdemaines-Hugon notes how tempting it is for a modern explorer to place their hand on the handprint, coming in as close contact as is possible with one of these long-ago people. (You can't, of course: any touching of the walls can lead to oil or perspiration being transferred and that could ultimately damage the paintings. And if one person does it, everyone touring the caves will want to, and the paintings would be worn off). In some places the handprints are of children - apparently in some of the caves, children were brought in to contribute to the paintings. (A community effort?)
It's a fascinating book and made me think about something I hadn't really thought much about before - I had heard of Lascaux and even seen some photographs of the paintings (or of the reconstructed "tourist" cave next door - the "real" Lascaux has been closed to preserve it). But there are lots of caves in France and Spain and even some in Germany and Hungary, where people were, as I said, almost unimaginably long ago (They were there when mammoths were still extant!)
There are a few omissions from the book. There aren't many maps (there's one at the front but it has relatively little detail; I would have liked to have seen something like a topographic section for each cave discussed.) And I would have liked more drawings/photos - there were a lot of things the author referred to but which were not pictured in the book. I don't know if the museum/owner of the object didn't permit it or what, but I would have liked more drawings or photos.
The purpose of the book seems to be, in part, to encourage people to travel to the caves that are still open and tour them, or failing that, go to the museums that have the portable art in them. I doubt that will ever happen for me (The caves especially; as intriguing as seeing the art might be, I'm not sure my claustrophobia would allow me to enter them). She does provide an extensive list (with phone numbers and URLs) of the sites in France that have contact information.
The main thing I read this trip was Christine Desdemaines-Hugon's "Stepping-Stones."
This is a description of several of the Paleolithic cave art in several caves in south-central France. Much of the book is description of the art - both "parietal art" (a term I did not previously know - it refers to the wall-paintings and other forms of immovable art) and "portable art" (things like spear-throwers and "batons" and other items that could be picked up and carried).
Desdemaines-Hugon does talk a bit about human evolution (though really, by the time "her" humans - the ones whose art she studies - made the scene, we were pretty much up to Homo sapiens, so the earlier forms were not as relevant to the work.)
Mainly, she is talking about Cro-Magnon man, with some references to the Neanderthals. (At the time the book was written - just earlier this year - it was still believed (and may still largely be believed) that there was no Neanderthal/ modern human crossbreeding. However, there's some recent DNA research that suggests in fact that there was. (The big news-story part of it was "Ozzy Osbourne has Neanderthal DNA!" Uh-huh.)
She points out that rather than being the brutish "cavemen" of legend, early humans were likely thoughtful and playful and they were artistic - they understood perspective and used it in some of their paintings. And they buried their dead rather tenderly, placing the body in a fetal position and often decorating it with beads and even, in some cases, providing food - whether for "the journey" of the deceased person, or as a propitiation to whatever their understanding of the Divine was, we won't ever know. But the fact that they buried their dead in that way suggests to me that they had some concept of the Divine and perhaps of an afterlife.
Desdemaines-Hugon makes a great effort not to ascribe too much motive to anything being described. (I'm not sure the right term for giving inappropriate "overinterpretation" is in anthropology; in ecology, if you attribute human motives to an animal, it's called anthropomorphism). But it's tantalizing to speculate.
A couple of things struck me: she notes that most of the caves do not seem to have been dwelling-places: there is far less "trash" than you would expect (at most, there are the paint-pots left behind, and perhaps a few spear-points, maybe as an offering of sorts). And in the caves that were not disturbed until modern anthropological methods came to the fore, one thing that was noticed was that many of them had relatively few foot-tracks in the sandy or clayey floors. (Yes, some of the caves have thousands-of-years-old foot tracks in them.)
Also, a lot of the paintings and symbols were placed in out-of-the-way areas, places that wouldn't normally be seen by someone just sitting by a fire in the cave. And a lot of the paintings would have taken some effort - lying on a scaffold or squeezed into a tiny area - to do, meaning that they weren't done "just" because they were easy and fun.
(And in some areas, there's evidence of outdoor dwellings - pits with places where stakes may have been placed to make a sort of yurt using animal hides).
Which makes me think that the caves must have had some spiritual significance to the people. That they didn't paint them "just" for art or "just" for fun. I wonder if the caves were seen as some sort of a womb image...there are at least a few "how people got here" stories around the world that involve people coming up from underground through a cave. And maybe the caves were seen as kind of a mother figure or something, and the art was a sign of respect or love or asking or thanking or any of the thousand reasons why people pray today. Maybe the paintings were done and never looked at again, maybe it was even taboo once a cave was "finished" to go back in and examine it again.
The "portable art" is also interesting. It seems to be what the author specialized on for her graduate and current research, and I wish she had spoken more about it. A lot of the objects have symbols on it, or very simplified, codified versions of animals (an eye, an ear, and a mane, to represent a horse, for example). And again, it makes me wonder: could this have been an early stab at some kind of symbolic/written language? I think from what I've read, cuneiform (slightly less than 5000 years ago) is the earliest verified writing, but there's some carving from about 8000 years ago in China that MAY be an earlier form. (Surely written language has multiple origins? It didn't start in one place and then spread?) And I wonder if a symbol-language would even be considered a form of writing.
It's sort of - I think "numinous" is almost but not quite the right word - to contemplate these people, who lived almost unimaginably long ago. 12,000 years ago - actually, towards the end of the time period Desdemaines-Hugon considers - that's even before the end of the last Ice Age. Christ was born some 2000 years ago. Even documents from 500 years ago can be hard to interpret.
Some places in the caves the people who painted them have left "negative handprints" - put their hands up against the side of the wall and blown pigment around them, so the negative space is the shape of their hand. Desdemaines-Hugon notes how tempting it is for a modern explorer to place their hand on the handprint, coming in as close contact as is possible with one of these long-ago people. (You can't, of course: any touching of the walls can lead to oil or perspiration being transferred and that could ultimately damage the paintings. And if one person does it, everyone touring the caves will want to, and the paintings would be worn off). In some places the handprints are of children - apparently in some of the caves, children were brought in to contribute to the paintings. (A community effort?)
It's a fascinating book and made me think about something I hadn't really thought much about before - I had heard of Lascaux and even seen some photographs of the paintings (or of the reconstructed "tourist" cave next door - the "real" Lascaux has been closed to preserve it). But there are lots of caves in France and Spain and even some in Germany and Hungary, where people were, as I said, almost unimaginably long ago (They were there when mammoths were still extant!)
There are a few omissions from the book. There aren't many maps (there's one at the front but it has relatively little detail; I would have liked to have seen something like a topographic section for each cave discussed.) And I would have liked more drawings/photos - there were a lot of things the author referred to but which were not pictured in the book. I don't know if the museum/owner of the object didn't permit it or what, but I would have liked more drawings or photos.
The purpose of the book seems to be, in part, to encourage people to travel to the caves that are still open and tour them, or failing that, go to the museums that have the portable art in them. I doubt that will ever happen for me (The caves especially; as intriguing as seeing the art might be, I'm not sure my claustrophobia would allow me to enter them). She does provide an extensive list (with phone numbers and URLs) of the sites in France that have contact information.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Preparing a chestnut
Tatyana, this is for you.
To roast chestnuts, you do need to slice into the shell or there is a risk they will burst in the oven and make a mess. Usually what I do is take a sharp knife and cut an "x" in the flattest side of the shell. You have to be a little careful to avoid cutting yourself.
Then, I think it's a 400 degree oven, and you check them after 15 or 20 minutes or so - you can smell when they are done. And the "x" cuts will open up and peel back. You have to let them cool a bit before peeling them because it's easy to burn your fingers. (this site gives more detailed information, and they suggest a higher temperature).
For the stuffing, we just boil them for 20 minutes or so. edited to add: we do not cut into them for boiling. Depending on where you buy the chestnuts, you may need to get extra, typically I find a few "bad" ones in a batch. (It's hard to tell with the closed up nut. If the chestnut is very light in weight or very squishy, don't buy it. If you're roasting them you can often tell when you cut them if they're bad or not. If a lot are bad, take them back to the store - my mom did that one year and they refunded her money and told her they were going to get a new supplier for next year, as a lot of people had complained)
To roast chestnuts, you do need to slice into the shell or there is a risk they will burst in the oven and make a mess. Usually what I do is take a sharp knife and cut an "x" in the flattest side of the shell. You have to be a little careful to avoid cutting yourself.
Then, I think it's a 400 degree oven, and you check them after 15 or 20 minutes or so - you can smell when they are done. And the "x" cuts will open up and peel back. You have to let them cool a bit before peeling them because it's easy to burn your fingers. (this site gives more detailed information, and they suggest a higher temperature).
For the stuffing, we just boil them for 20 minutes or so. edited to add: we do not cut into them for boiling. Depending on where you buy the chestnuts, you may need to get extra, typically I find a few "bad" ones in a batch. (It's hard to tell with the closed up nut. If the chestnut is very light in weight or very squishy, don't buy it. If you're roasting them you can often tell when you cut them if they're bad or not. If a lot are bad, take them back to the store - my mom did that one year and they refunded her money and told her they were going to get a new supplier for next year, as a lot of people had complained)
Penguins in Scotland
One of the Ravelers posted a link to the Edinburgh Zoo's "Penguin Cam."
Penguins!
As of this posting, there are a whole bunch of them out there, some running around, some flapping their wings. I think Edinburgh is 6 hours (or is it 7?) ahead of me, so it would be midafternoon (about teatime, in fact) there right now.
(Note that the camera doesn't do "night vision," so during the afternoon in the US, the penguins would not be visible...)
Penguins!
As of this posting, there are a whole bunch of them out there, some running around, some flapping their wings. I think Edinburgh is 6 hours (or is it 7?) ahead of me, so it would be midafternoon (about teatime, in fact) there right now.
(Note that the camera doesn't do "night vision," so during the afternoon in the US, the penguins would not be visible...)
Christmas music time
KING-fm has re-activated their "Holiday" channel, which plays mostly classical/sacred Christmas music. I have it on right now, it will be a great help to me during this coming crazy week. (I already had one person call in sick - someone who is trustworthy, I think - and I will have to be accepting their big paper late). (At the moment, they are playing a nice, simple string quartet arrangement of "The First Noel.")
Also, Sirius has put on a couple Christmas channels. "40s on 4" (which I actually have in my preset list on my car) plays mostly 30s-40s-50s stuff (though they play the Roy Conniff Singers far more often than I would choose; I don't like that kind of oversweetened, highly-produced, string-section-laden stuff. I prefer the Bing Crosby/Dean Martin type of Christmas pop stuff, where if it's a traditional carol they mostly respect its integrity, and if it's a secular song they have some fun with it. (I love the various version of "Jingle Bells" that Bing did - he did one version with the Mills Brothers, and another one with the Andrews Sisters).
I think they also took one of the "modern pop" channels (Maybe the "Love" channel, which I never listen to?) and made it a modern-style Christmas music channel.
I'm not so much in love with a lot of the current pop Christmas stuff; a lot of it seems to be more bent on showing off the vocal acrobatics (or enhanced vocal acrobatics) of the singer, and a lot of it tends to be way "over-sweetened."
I have a few recordings of stuff that's almost entirely acoustic (The Thorns, a band I'm not otherwise familiar with, have a very nice, very simple version of "Silent Night" that is on one of the albums of Christmas music that I have.
It's funny; the music I have is almost evenly divided between the straight-up High Church music ("Music from Tewksbury Abbey") or fairly old stuff (one of my favorite Christmas albums of all time is Gloria Dei Cantores "What Cheer." Though, surprisingly to me, the title track is NOT ancient, but rather, modern (The text is from the 1600s, though). And the other half is 1940s/50s stuff, mostly.
I suspect the more "modern" (though not really contemporaneous with my childhood era) may come from the fact that that was a lot of what my parents had as Christmas records when I was a kid - Gene Autry singing "Here Comes Santa Claus," for example. And from the fact that I just like Bing Crosby and Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald. (I love how Ella Fitzgerald could take a very simple, even childish, song like "Frosty the Snowman" and instead of seeming to act like it was below her, she had fun with it.)
I also have an album called something like "A Sentimental Christmas," which contains a few wartime pieces (WWII, of course), some of which kind of have the theme of "things aren't that great right now (or: someone we love very much is overseas), but they will be better in the future." I kind of like that sentiment; the fact that it is possible to acknowledge that not every Christmas can be - has to be - The Best Christmas EVER! But that it's still possible to be happy, to enjoy.
Also, Sirius has put on a couple Christmas channels. "40s on 4" (which I actually have in my preset list on my car) plays mostly 30s-40s-50s stuff (though they play the Roy Conniff Singers far more often than I would choose; I don't like that kind of oversweetened, highly-produced, string-section-laden stuff. I prefer the Bing Crosby/Dean Martin type of Christmas pop stuff, where if it's a traditional carol they mostly respect its integrity, and if it's a secular song they have some fun with it. (I love the various version of "Jingle Bells" that Bing did - he did one version with the Mills Brothers, and another one with the Andrews Sisters).
I think they also took one of the "modern pop" channels (Maybe the "Love" channel, which I never listen to?) and made it a modern-style Christmas music channel.
I'm not so much in love with a lot of the current pop Christmas stuff; a lot of it seems to be more bent on showing off the vocal acrobatics (or enhanced vocal acrobatics) of the singer, and a lot of it tends to be way "over-sweetened."
I have a few recordings of stuff that's almost entirely acoustic (The Thorns, a band I'm not otherwise familiar with, have a very nice, very simple version of "Silent Night" that is on one of the albums of Christmas music that I have.
It's funny; the music I have is almost evenly divided between the straight-up High Church music ("Music from Tewksbury Abbey") or fairly old stuff (one of my favorite Christmas albums of all time is Gloria Dei Cantores "What Cheer." Though, surprisingly to me, the title track is NOT ancient, but rather, modern (The text is from the 1600s, though). And the other half is 1940s/50s stuff, mostly.
I suspect the more "modern" (though not really contemporaneous with my childhood era) may come from the fact that that was a lot of what my parents had as Christmas records when I was a kid - Gene Autry singing "Here Comes Santa Claus," for example. And from the fact that I just like Bing Crosby and Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald. (I love how Ella Fitzgerald could take a very simple, even childish, song like "Frosty the Snowman" and instead of seeming to act like it was below her, she had fun with it.)
I also have an album called something like "A Sentimental Christmas," which contains a few wartime pieces (WWII, of course), some of which kind of have the theme of "things aren't that great right now (or: someone we love very much is overseas), but they will be better in the future." I kind of like that sentiment; the fact that it is possible to acknowledge that not every Christmas can be - has to be - The Best Christmas EVER! But that it's still possible to be happy, to enjoy.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Back to it
Thanksgiving break was good, but too short. (The one consolation is knowing that in 2 1/2 weeks I get to go again, for a much longer break).
A couple of observations:
1. As much as I love the Macy's Parade giant balloons, I have grown exceptionally tired of the "let's push Broadway shows/NBC network shows." This year, they had one of the guys from one of the many clones of Law and Order shouting over a marching band that was going by in the background, and I realized: Yeah, they've totally re-prioritized what the parade is for.
I'd love to see a network do a "highlights of" parade - just the parade, the balloons and marching bands and groups of people walking and waving, without the silly pun-filled commentary and the break-ins to promote Broadway shows that 95% of Americans will never see, or NBC shows that probably 85% of Americans don't watch...
I will say I flipped to the Chicago version of the parade, which was more enjoyable (there were no interviews or stagey musical numbers) but there was one host whose voice really grated on my ears.
2. For once, not one chestnut in the batch was bad. Yes, we put chestnuts in the stuffing. I'm sure it's a throwback to my mother's ancestors, who lived in Michigan, and before that, upstate New York/western Massachusetts.
We make the "northern style" using dry bread, onions, chestnuts, an egg, and parsley and marjoram. (None of us like sage so we substitute marjoram). And no celery, because three of us have an allergy to it.
The stuffing is one of my favorite things about the meal. I know I could make a small batch of it myself but it would not be the same, somehow.
I did my usual sous-chef type tasks while my mom tackled the heavy lifting part of the cooking. Until my hand slipped while trying to slip open a chestnut and I wound up stabbing the meaty part at the base of my thumb. (It's mostly healed up now).
3. I did do a tiny bit of "black Friday" shopping, but it was in one of the small downtown shops. I bought a couple "fancy" chocolate bars (of a brand more expensive than I know he'd ever buy) to finish off my brother's present. I think my shopping's done now; I do still have to order the gifts for my uncles and their families but as I know exactly what I want to get them that will be easy.
Coming up on the train, I read an editorial in the USA Today, just somewhat tongue in cheek by the author, I guess, suggesting we celebrate Christmas "only once every five years." I don't know. My attitude is, if there's a part of it that bugs you so much, work to eliminate it from your celebrations. If giving gifts is such a pain, see if people would be willing to do something else instead (I know some families that pool the gift money and have a big outing, or something else. Or families where they draw names and each person buys - and receives - only one gift). I admit it, I feel a little sad for the people who say they don't enjoy getting gifts for people. For me, that's one of my favorite parts - going through the catalogs and magazine "gift ideas," scheming and planning, trying to figure out what someone would enjoy or cherish.
Even people who have "everything they need" - some nice tea, or a fancy box of cookies, or some kind of little game if they enjoy games - I think those things tend to be appreciated.
Perhaps I enjoy gift-giving because there's never been money-pressure to impress in my family: the best gifts are still seen as the ones that involve more thought than money.
These days, I give a lot of "practical" gifts, or food-type gifts.
For a person who's busy, even a few books of stamps (if they write a lot of letters or still pay bills by mail) can be an appreciated gift. Because it means they don't have to take the time to go to the post office, or to remember to buy them when they're out at some grocery store that happens to sell stamps at the service counter.
4. One thing that amused me on the train: one of the waiters in the dining room figured out a good compromise between the "miss" vs. "ma'am" way of addressing women (It's hard, for someone of indeterminate age, and some women are taken aback by "ma'am." I know I was the first time students started calling me that. And these days, "Miss" is a little surprising too - mostly some of my foreign students call me that). But this guy had a good solution: He referred to women as "My Lady," which to my ears sounded almost chivalrous, and it made me smile. (I'm sure it doesn't hurt his tips.)
A couple of observations:
1. As much as I love the Macy's Parade giant balloons, I have grown exceptionally tired of the "let's push Broadway shows/NBC network shows." This year, they had one of the guys from one of the many clones of Law and Order shouting over a marching band that was going by in the background, and I realized: Yeah, they've totally re-prioritized what the parade is for.
I'd love to see a network do a "highlights of" parade - just the parade, the balloons and marching bands and groups of people walking and waving, without the silly pun-filled commentary and the break-ins to promote Broadway shows that 95% of Americans will never see, or NBC shows that probably 85% of Americans don't watch...
I will say I flipped to the Chicago version of the parade, which was more enjoyable (there were no interviews or stagey musical numbers) but there was one host whose voice really grated on my ears.
2. For once, not one chestnut in the batch was bad. Yes, we put chestnuts in the stuffing. I'm sure it's a throwback to my mother's ancestors, who lived in Michigan, and before that, upstate New York/western Massachusetts.
We make the "northern style" using dry bread, onions, chestnuts, an egg, and parsley and marjoram. (None of us like sage so we substitute marjoram). And no celery, because three of us have an allergy to it.
The stuffing is one of my favorite things about the meal. I know I could make a small batch of it myself but it would not be the same, somehow.
I did my usual sous-chef type tasks while my mom tackled the heavy lifting part of the cooking. Until my hand slipped while trying to slip open a chestnut and I wound up stabbing the meaty part at the base of my thumb. (It's mostly healed up now).
3. I did do a tiny bit of "black Friday" shopping, but it was in one of the small downtown shops. I bought a couple "fancy" chocolate bars (of a brand more expensive than I know he'd ever buy) to finish off my brother's present. I think my shopping's done now; I do still have to order the gifts for my uncles and their families but as I know exactly what I want to get them that will be easy.
Coming up on the train, I read an editorial in the USA Today, just somewhat tongue in cheek by the author, I guess, suggesting we celebrate Christmas "only once every five years." I don't know. My attitude is, if there's a part of it that bugs you so much, work to eliminate it from your celebrations. If giving gifts is such a pain, see if people would be willing to do something else instead (I know some families that pool the gift money and have a big outing, or something else. Or families where they draw names and each person buys - and receives - only one gift). I admit it, I feel a little sad for the people who say they don't enjoy getting gifts for people. For me, that's one of my favorite parts - going through the catalogs and magazine "gift ideas," scheming and planning, trying to figure out what someone would enjoy or cherish.
Even people who have "everything they need" - some nice tea, or a fancy box of cookies, or some kind of little game if they enjoy games - I think those things tend to be appreciated.
Perhaps I enjoy gift-giving because there's never been money-pressure to impress in my family: the best gifts are still seen as the ones that involve more thought than money.
These days, I give a lot of "practical" gifts, or food-type gifts.
For a person who's busy, even a few books of stamps (if they write a lot of letters or still pay bills by mail) can be an appreciated gift. Because it means they don't have to take the time to go to the post office, or to remember to buy them when they're out at some grocery store that happens to sell stamps at the service counter.
4. One thing that amused me on the train: one of the waiters in the dining room figured out a good compromise between the "miss" vs. "ma'am" way of addressing women (It's hard, for someone of indeterminate age, and some women are taken aback by "ma'am." I know I was the first time students started calling me that. And these days, "Miss" is a little surprising too - mostly some of my foreign students call me that). But this guy had a good solution: He referred to women as "My Lady," which to my ears sounded almost chivalrous, and it made me smile. (I'm sure it doesn't hurt his tips.)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Can't believe it
But yay, I'm done.
I decided not to do the additional grading; it can wait. I'm pretty much all packed, I have to go get an allergy shot and eat some lunch and then I can think about going.
Books for the trip:
"The Worst Hard Time" which is a history of the Dust Bowl
a book about the paleolithic cave-painters in France (they are from the Dordogne River valley - which is, I have learned, whence some of my ancestors came, so perhaps I am a many, many, many generations distant descendant of those who did the caves.)
And a book of Connie Willis' short stories, called "Miracle." I've already read two - they are all about Christmas and are quite wonderful. (The eponymous story of the book, in particular, is sort of about getting what you wanted but didn't really know you wanted at the time).
Knitting for the trip:
Finish the Opal Antonia socks
Work on the Ty-Dy socks
Possibly start some cabled socks out of a lovely pale blue and purple Sweet Georgia sockyarn. And possibly (finally!) start the pair of Overlapping Leaves socks out of the green Opal Handpaint that Diann sent me so long ago.
And I have the sockyarn teddy bear tucked in there to work on.
Yes, that's surely more than I can finish (or even start) over this short break. But I always do that...think in the back of my head, "What if something horrible were to happen and you could not get back right away?" Hence the "excess" of books and yarn.
I never could travel very light.
***
To everyone who celebrates, have a fantastic Thanksgiving. May your gravy not be lumpy and your pies turn out well. May the football games be interesting on television and may the people you spend the day with be enjoyable.
I decided not to do the additional grading; it can wait. I'm pretty much all packed, I have to go get an allergy shot and eat some lunch and then I can think about going.
Books for the trip:
"The Worst Hard Time" which is a history of the Dust Bowl
a book about the paleolithic cave-painters in France (they are from the Dordogne River valley - which is, I have learned, whence some of my ancestors came, so perhaps I am a many, many, many generations distant descendant of those who did the caves.)
And a book of Connie Willis' short stories, called "Miracle." I've already read two - they are all about Christmas and are quite wonderful. (The eponymous story of the book, in particular, is sort of about getting what you wanted but didn't really know you wanted at the time).
Knitting for the trip:
Finish the Opal Antonia socks
Work on the Ty-Dy socks
Possibly start some cabled socks out of a lovely pale blue and purple Sweet Georgia sockyarn. And possibly (finally!) start the pair of Overlapping Leaves socks out of the green Opal Handpaint that Diann sent me so long ago.
And I have the sockyarn teddy bear tucked in there to work on.
Yes, that's surely more than I can finish (or even start) over this short break. But I always do that...think in the back of my head, "What if something horrible were to happen and you could not get back right away?" Hence the "excess" of books and yarn.
I never could travel very light.
***
To everyone who celebrates, have a fantastic Thanksgiving. May your gravy not be lumpy and your pies turn out well. May the football games be interesting on television and may the people you spend the day with be enjoyable.
Through the house
As I said, I got the decorations up on Saturday.
And I probably should get a tripod for my camera if I want to take more "night time exposure" shots.
I put the little tree up on a low table; it is set in the curve of the piano (about the only place now in my small living room where it's fairly visible).
I also decided to put a few things ON the piano. My Nativity set is there, but so are these:
The silly singing snowman, and one of those little plaster lit-up trees. I love those. I got this one at a craft show I was at. My grandmother had one she put up every year but hers was the more traditional green-tree-with-lights (like this one. In fact, very much like that one.)
I have my little tree sitting on a doily so it won't scratch the piano.
A lot of the things I really enjoy about the holidays are not the expensive things. I know people talk about Christmas "costing a lot" and in some cases, questioning how much we should celebrate, given the "new frugality" or the "new austerity" or whatever.
I don't know. For me, the decorations cost little: I use the same little artificial tree I've had for ten years, and the ornaments I've collected over the years.
Some of them are ones I bought, some are ones I was given as gifts, some were ones I made.
I pull the same ones out every year because I like seeing them again - the blown-out egg that someone decoupaged with a picture of the Holy Family and then put clear glitter on top of the decoupaging to finish it, the little homespun angel ornaments I made one year, the silly Hello Kitty tiny ornaments that I bought because they were so cute.
I know people who change the "theme" and buy new ornaments every year, but that's just not for me. I like having the old ones back. It's true in my family-of-origin as well: my parents still put up some wooden ornaments they bought back when I was a tiny child (I was surprised, and delighted, as a teenager when Country Living did a feature on an "Ohio Farmhouse" and the people there had some of the same ornaments! I think my parents bought them at either a church bazaar or a benefit for Blossom or something like that). They have an ornament of a train that was bought when my brother was a baby.
I also put up the mantel garland and filled the mantel with decorations.
I know it's cluttered, but I feel like if there's any time of year you can get away with a Victorian level of clutter, it's Christmas.
Some of these items were gifts over the years (the Santa with the birdhouse, the snowglobe, the Dalarna horse (which was the "bridesmaid's gift" from my then-new sister-in-law, 12 years ago, now). Others are things I've found in shops over the years (the elf that is like one my grandmother had, the old reindeer toy)
And the snowmen. They will probably stay up for January and February once I take the other decorations down around New Year's.
Part of the reason I like these things is that they do hold memories. Perhaps the fact that I have a good memory is what tends to make me more sentimental. For example, I can look at the Dalarna horse and remember the Bridesmaids' Luncheon in my sister-in-law's parents' house, and how she bought that specifically for me (all the bridesmaids got small gifts but they were all different) because she knew I liked Scandinavian things (there was a Scandinavian-import shop next to the dressmakers' where we all went for fittings and I spend a lot of time looking in there). And the snowglobe was a door prize at a party I went to. And I can remember when I bought the Hello Kitty tree ornaments, and how I found the few vintage tiny glass globes I have in an antique shop.
And all of those recall happy times, good times. And in a way it makes me feel sort of rooted, the way having pictures of my relatives up on the wall makes me feel rooted. I think it's sometimes harder for someone who is single and living far from family to feel that rootedness, and it's something I seek out.
Most of my energies in decoration go to the living room, but I did put one thing up in the bedroom.
I had been wanting to get a small table-top tree - I was thinking of a typical green evergreen looking thing, a small artificial tree, perhaps with lights (then again, there is no plug on the wall nearest to where it would be. One of the drawbacks of an older house is that there are far fewer electrical outlets).
I couldn't find one in any of the shops I looked in. The closest thing I saw was almost $40, which seemed like way too much for such a small thing.
Then, when I was getting out the other decorations, I found the goofy white chenille-stem tree I bought a few years back. It was on an after-Christmas closeout and was something like $3, and I thought it was sort of cute (and I have a lot of pink in my house), so I bought it.
And I realized that I'd have nowhere else to put it up this Christmas (the mantel already being full), so I put it on top of the bookshelf.
It actually works pretty well there.
It's a bit hard to photograph but it's a white chenille-stem tree, a little bit in the spirit of the old goose-feather trees. The only decoration on it is a pink "garland" (which actually looks like the kind of trim you might put on a little girl's dress.)
I didn't try to put ornaments on it because I think they'd be too much.
Under the tree, from right to left, are a Folkmanis yak finger puppet that I bought as my "conference souvenir" from this year's Prairie Conference (I try, as much as possible, to find a small critter that can serve as a souvenir of every conference I've been to). Then there's Manny from Ice Age that one of my Ravelry friends sent me in a birthday box on my last birthday. And next to him is the Smilodon from the Field Museum gift shop that was my 2007 conference souvenir.
I don't know why the prehistoric animals (the yak is kinda-sorta prehistoric too; at least, they were one of the early domesticated animals), but they seem to work there.
And I probably should get a tripod for my camera if I want to take more "night time exposure" shots.
I put the little tree up on a low table; it is set in the curve of the piano (about the only place now in my small living room where it's fairly visible).
I also decided to put a few things ON the piano. My Nativity set is there, but so are these:
The silly singing snowman, and one of those little plaster lit-up trees. I love those. I got this one at a craft show I was at. My grandmother had one she put up every year but hers was the more traditional green-tree-with-lights (like this one. In fact, very much like that one.)
I have my little tree sitting on a doily so it won't scratch the piano.
A lot of the things I really enjoy about the holidays are not the expensive things. I know people talk about Christmas "costing a lot" and in some cases, questioning how much we should celebrate, given the "new frugality" or the "new austerity" or whatever.
I don't know. For me, the decorations cost little: I use the same little artificial tree I've had for ten years, and the ornaments I've collected over the years.
Some of them are ones I bought, some are ones I was given as gifts, some were ones I made.
I pull the same ones out every year because I like seeing them again - the blown-out egg that someone decoupaged with a picture of the Holy Family and then put clear glitter on top of the decoupaging to finish it, the little homespun angel ornaments I made one year, the silly Hello Kitty tiny ornaments that I bought because they were so cute.
I know people who change the "theme" and buy new ornaments every year, but that's just not for me. I like having the old ones back. It's true in my family-of-origin as well: my parents still put up some wooden ornaments they bought back when I was a tiny child (I was surprised, and delighted, as a teenager when Country Living did a feature on an "Ohio Farmhouse" and the people there had some of the same ornaments! I think my parents bought them at either a church bazaar or a benefit for Blossom or something like that). They have an ornament of a train that was bought when my brother was a baby.
I also put up the mantel garland and filled the mantel with decorations.
I know it's cluttered, but I feel like if there's any time of year you can get away with a Victorian level of clutter, it's Christmas.
Some of these items were gifts over the years (the Santa with the birdhouse, the snowglobe, the Dalarna horse (which was the "bridesmaid's gift" from my then-new sister-in-law, 12 years ago, now). Others are things I've found in shops over the years (the elf that is like one my grandmother had, the old reindeer toy)
And the snowmen. They will probably stay up for January and February once I take the other decorations down around New Year's.
Part of the reason I like these things is that they do hold memories. Perhaps the fact that I have a good memory is what tends to make me more sentimental. For example, I can look at the Dalarna horse and remember the Bridesmaids' Luncheon in my sister-in-law's parents' house, and how she bought that specifically for me (all the bridesmaids got small gifts but they were all different) because she knew I liked Scandinavian things (there was a Scandinavian-import shop next to the dressmakers' where we all went for fittings and I spend a lot of time looking in there). And the snowglobe was a door prize at a party I went to. And I can remember when I bought the Hello Kitty tree ornaments, and how I found the few vintage tiny glass globes I have in an antique shop.
And all of those recall happy times, good times. And in a way it makes me feel sort of rooted, the way having pictures of my relatives up on the wall makes me feel rooted. I think it's sometimes harder for someone who is single and living far from family to feel that rootedness, and it's something I seek out.
Most of my energies in decoration go to the living room, but I did put one thing up in the bedroom.
I had been wanting to get a small table-top tree - I was thinking of a typical green evergreen looking thing, a small artificial tree, perhaps with lights (then again, there is no plug on the wall nearest to where it would be. One of the drawbacks of an older house is that there are far fewer electrical outlets).
I couldn't find one in any of the shops I looked in. The closest thing I saw was almost $40, which seemed like way too much for such a small thing.
Then, when I was getting out the other decorations, I found the goofy white chenille-stem tree I bought a few years back. It was on an after-Christmas closeout and was something like $3, and I thought it was sort of cute (and I have a lot of pink in my house), so I bought it.
And I realized that I'd have nowhere else to put it up this Christmas (the mantel already being full), so I put it on top of the bookshelf.
It actually works pretty well there.
It's a bit hard to photograph but it's a white chenille-stem tree, a little bit in the spirit of the old goose-feather trees. The only decoration on it is a pink "garland" (which actually looks like the kind of trim you might put on a little girl's dress.)
I didn't try to put ornaments on it because I think they'd be too much.
Under the tree, from right to left, are a Folkmanis yak finger puppet that I bought as my "conference souvenir" from this year's Prairie Conference (I try, as much as possible, to find a small critter that can serve as a souvenir of every conference I've been to). Then there's Manny from Ice Age that one of my Ravelry friends sent me in a birthday box on my last birthday. And next to him is the Smilodon from the Field Museum gift shop that was my 2007 conference souvenir.
I don't know why the prehistoric animals (the yak is kinda-sorta prehistoric too; at least, they were one of the early domesticated animals), but they seem to work there.
Monday, November 22, 2010
What's that smell
TMI alert.
Apparently one of the unfortunate neighborhood critters ended its life in an untimely fashion in the crawl space of my house.
I know, I know, I should be calling my local version of Billy the Exterminator (do not ever watch that show if you're at all disease-phobic. He's very, very good at hyperbolizing the disease risk of EVERYTHING). But I'm cheap that way and a few warm days will probably take care of it. And that which doesn't kill me, yada yada.
I'm quite sure that's what it is from the scent, and also from the sudden population explosion of flies. Ugh. (I hope it's one of the hispid cotton rats I've seen and not something larger like an opossum.)
But for now, it kind of smells like when you cook chicken, and you put the raw chicken packaging in the kitchen trash, and then forget to take it out overnight. And you wake up the next morning and are all "oh, ewwww" (or at least I am, but I have a hypersensitive nose). I'm spraying with a product that claims to kill airborne bacteria and eliminate the smell, but it's not permanent.
So I have most of the windows open, allergens be darned. And I'm disappointed to realize that even though this house was built in the era before air conditioning became common, it's very hard to get a cross-breeze through it.
It reminds me of my childhood summers a little bit - for one thing, it's warm here today and humid, and if you ignore the leaves on the ground or the slant of the sunlight, it feels a bit like a northeastern Ohio summer day. And my childhood summers were the main time I experienced open windows: we had no air conditioning and at any rate, it was generally cool enough out for it to be comfortable with just open windows. (And at night. At night it almost always cooled down enough that open windows made sleeping comfortable and cooled the house down for the next day. One of the great disappointments of last summer here was that it didn't cool down at all at night: there were many days when I awoke at 4:30 or 5 am to find it still 80 degrees outside. And I don't care where you live, that is just wrong.)
I'm thinking now of the childhood summers, of lying on the sofa in the living room with my big stack of library books and the windows open, with the street sounds coming in. (Another thing: my street as a kid was a lot quieter than where I live now.)
I got most of the grading done; only a dozen people showed up to take the ecology test. (Ye gads, am I down to a dozen active students now? I know I had 3 drop, and two more who quit coming, and two others whose attendance has been miserably spotty...)
It's strange, this warm weather. I know it won't last and yet every fall when we get this, I feel like somehow I've missed winter and we're going straight back into summer.
I think I need to hit the area next to the most-badly-affected wall with some Oust again...I'll be glad when decomposition has done its job.
(ETA: I decided to go out and replace the air filter/allergen remover I used to have. The one I had used for years gave up the ghost, and I also could no longer get the filters for it. I have a semi-pricey new one, courtesy of the Lowe's, but it has a carbon filter as well as the HEPA filter. So hopefully it will deal with the stink as well as any allergens. And it may help with cooking odors in the future; I know when I fry anything or cook onions I can smell it for hours afterwards)
Apparently one of the unfortunate neighborhood critters ended its life in an untimely fashion in the crawl space of my house.
I know, I know, I should be calling my local version of Billy the Exterminator (do not ever watch that show if you're at all disease-phobic. He's very, very good at hyperbolizing the disease risk of EVERYTHING). But I'm cheap that way and a few warm days will probably take care of it. And that which doesn't kill me, yada yada.
I'm quite sure that's what it is from the scent, and also from the sudden population explosion of flies. Ugh. (I hope it's one of the hispid cotton rats I've seen and not something larger like an opossum.)
But for now, it kind of smells like when you cook chicken, and you put the raw chicken packaging in the kitchen trash, and then forget to take it out overnight. And you wake up the next morning and are all "oh, ewwww" (or at least I am, but I have a hypersensitive nose). I'm spraying with a product that claims to kill airborne bacteria and eliminate the smell, but it's not permanent.
So I have most of the windows open, allergens be darned. And I'm disappointed to realize that even though this house was built in the era before air conditioning became common, it's very hard to get a cross-breeze through it.
It reminds me of my childhood summers a little bit - for one thing, it's warm here today and humid, and if you ignore the leaves on the ground or the slant of the sunlight, it feels a bit like a northeastern Ohio summer day. And my childhood summers were the main time I experienced open windows: we had no air conditioning and at any rate, it was generally cool enough out for it to be comfortable with just open windows. (And at night. At night it almost always cooled down enough that open windows made sleeping comfortable and cooled the house down for the next day. One of the great disappointments of last summer here was that it didn't cool down at all at night: there were many days when I awoke at 4:30 or 5 am to find it still 80 degrees outside. And I don't care where you live, that is just wrong.)
I'm thinking now of the childhood summers, of lying on the sofa in the living room with my big stack of library books and the windows open, with the street sounds coming in. (Another thing: my street as a kid was a lot quieter than where I live now.)
I got most of the grading done; only a dozen people showed up to take the ecology test. (Ye gads, am I down to a dozen active students now? I know I had 3 drop, and two more who quit coming, and two others whose attendance has been miserably spotty...)
It's strange, this warm weather. I know it won't last and yet every fall when we get this, I feel like somehow I've missed winter and we're going straight back into summer.
I think I need to hit the area next to the most-badly-affected wall with some Oust again...I'll be glad when decomposition has done its job.
(ETA: I decided to go out and replace the air filter/allergen remover I used to have. The one I had used for years gave up the ghost, and I also could no longer get the filters for it. I have a semi-pricey new one, courtesy of the Lowe's, but it has a carbon filter as well as the HEPA filter. So hopefully it will deal with the stink as well as any allergens. And it may help with cooking odors in the future; I know when I fry anything or cook onions I can smell it for hours afterwards)
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Final gift finished
Perhaps I need to scale back the expectations of what I will accomplish on the weekend. This weekend I had fewer things on the list and actually got all of them done.
One thing was to finish the Basketry Mitts for the AAUW gift exchange
I used Paton's "FX socks" in a color called Clover Mix. I hope other people like these. I do, but then I'm kind of a sucker for those tweed/ombre yarns - where each ply slowly changes color, so you get a subtle gradation of color combinations.
They're not matchy but this yarn is hard to get to be matchy. (And it would have taken breaking into the second ball and winding off a lot of the yarn). They took somewhere between 160 and 165 yards...the ball claims 166 yards, and I had just a bit left over (But balls can vary; I think they're put up by weight rather than strict yardage, and on a humid day the wool would absorb water and be a bit heavier, and so the ball might run shorter...)
I also finished most of the grading (I have a few grad-student second-article-critiques to do yet). Well, most of the grading until Monday. I collect a take-home exam and give an exam in another class.
I did decorate for Christmas but I'm saving those pictures and description for tomorrow or Tuesday, as I anticipate having a truckload of grading to do Monday afternoon and evening, and perhaps not getting much else done. (I want to have ALL the grading done before I leave for Thanksgiving, so I won't have to feel like I should drag it along with me.)
One thing was to finish the Basketry Mitts for the AAUW gift exchange
I used Paton's "FX socks" in a color called Clover Mix. I hope other people like these. I do, but then I'm kind of a sucker for those tweed/ombre yarns - where each ply slowly changes color, so you get a subtle gradation of color combinations.
They're not matchy but this yarn is hard to get to be matchy. (And it would have taken breaking into the second ball and winding off a lot of the yarn). They took somewhere between 160 and 165 yards...the ball claims 166 yards, and I had just a bit left over (But balls can vary; I think they're put up by weight rather than strict yardage, and on a humid day the wool would absorb water and be a bit heavier, and so the ball might run shorter...)
I also finished most of the grading (I have a few grad-student second-article-critiques to do yet). Well, most of the grading until Monday. I collect a take-home exam and give an exam in another class.
I did decorate for Christmas but I'm saving those pictures and description for tomorrow or Tuesday, as I anticipate having a truckload of grading to do Monday afternoon and evening, and perhaps not getting much else done. (I want to have ALL the grading done before I leave for Thanksgiving, so I won't have to feel like I should drag it along with me.)
Friday, November 19, 2010
Bah ha ha
I said the other day I don't do counted-cross-stitch, because I get off-chart and mess it up, and picking out stitches makes it all messy and ugly (or at least, in my experience it did).
But now, the samplers seen at The Steotch (courtesy the Dustbury twitter stream) almost make me wish I did.
My favorite is The Astley, but I also like the Bless this House one.
(N.B., gentle readers: some have rude words.)
Then again, I can't quite see spending months of time (which is what it would be for me - months or perhaps even years) on an elaborate joke that would probably be seen as passe by the time I had the sampler done. (Then again: I did embroider a pillow with "I Can Has Cheezburger" and a cat head on it...)
But now, the samplers seen at The Steotch (courtesy the Dustbury twitter stream) almost make me wish I did.
My favorite is The Astley, but I also like the Bless this House one.
(N.B., gentle readers: some have rude words.)
Then again, I can't quite see spending months of time (which is what it would be for me - months or perhaps even years) on an elaborate joke that would probably be seen as passe by the time I had the sampler done. (Then again: I did embroider a pillow with "I Can Has Cheezburger" and a cat head on it...)
Weekend nearly here
And none too soon.
I do still have lots of grading to do...graded a gen bio exam last night, plus seven more of the GIS papers (I have six to go, by my count, now.)
I also need to tweak the take-home exam for Biostats and get that ready to go - I need to hand it out Monday after break.
I'm hoping I can get that done today. I don't know that I will, or I don't know whether I'll just go into shut-down mode (it happens with grading - you get to the point where you Just. Can't. Do. Any. More.)
My other plans for the weekend are to spiff the house up a little, and to decorate for Christmas.
I know it's still early by most people's standards. But I'm not going to be here next weekend, and then after that, it's a few days of full-tilt boogie until the end of the semester, and by the time I think I'd have time after that, it would be so late as to seem pointless. I know some people DON'T decorate, especially when they're going to travel to be with family, but I think not decorating would make me sad.
It's funny when you think of it, the difference between Advent and "the Christmas Season." I wonder how people who are more strictly observant than I am do it. I was always taught in church that Advent was a time of contemplation and reflection - one minister referred to it as a "mini-Lent," where you examine your heart and soul and do some spiritual housecleaning, to make things ready for the birth of the Babe. (I wonder now if the tradition - which my father's parents followed - of not putting up the tree until December 24 was partly a holdover of that. Oh, I'm sure there was also partly the practical concern of "real" tree + candles - you want the tree to be as fresh as possible if you're going to use candles. No, his family didn't, but for some years my mother's family did).
I suspect - though I don't know for sure - there were probably fast-days in the past, and other days when you didn't participate in festivities. And I wonder how that would fly in the world of Christmas parties and shopping and all of that.
(I would observe somewhat flippantly that for me, going to the mall on Black Friday would be a major penance. Though it wouldn't be one that would be good for me in any kind of purification sense; it would make me angry and hate people and destroy some of my goodwill. Which is why I tend to avoid the malls this time of year and do my shopping online/from catalogs or through small local businesses: there's not the same level of craziness.
I also stay away from the malls and such because I like to hang on to my belief - which I know, you can probably produce many bits of data to show it is untrue - that people are nicer during this time of year and more generous. In the experience I've seen, if food banks are going to be anywhere near fully stocked, it's more likely this time of year. And lots of people throw money in the Salvation Army kettles. (I do when I see one. Even if I only have a few quarters at the bottom of my purse that I can grab quickly. I do it mainly for myself, actually: partly as a "thank You that I have enough money to spare that I can do this" and also partly to a reminder to myself that (a) however much I may worry about getting the bills paid, I can always get them paid and (b) there are a lot of things I want but don't need, but nothing I need that I don't have.)
At any rate: I really want to shift over to Holiday Mode, at least part time. Getting the house decorated is part of that. (And Sunday after church, we decorate the church). And maybe, if I'm fortunate, I can finish the gift mitts this weekend, which will mean all my Christmas gift-knitting is done and I can think about things like finishing up the socks on the needles, or going back to working on Potter, or maybe starting what I now think of at the Miss Marple Shawl.)
I do still have lots of grading to do...graded a gen bio exam last night, plus seven more of the GIS papers (I have six to go, by my count, now.)
I also need to tweak the take-home exam for Biostats and get that ready to go - I need to hand it out Monday after break.
I'm hoping I can get that done today. I don't know that I will, or I don't know whether I'll just go into shut-down mode (it happens with grading - you get to the point where you Just. Can't. Do. Any. More.)
My other plans for the weekend are to spiff the house up a little, and to decorate for Christmas.
I know it's still early by most people's standards. But I'm not going to be here next weekend, and then after that, it's a few days of full-tilt boogie until the end of the semester, and by the time I think I'd have time after that, it would be so late as to seem pointless. I know some people DON'T decorate, especially when they're going to travel to be with family, but I think not decorating would make me sad.
It's funny when you think of it, the difference between Advent and "the Christmas Season." I wonder how people who are more strictly observant than I am do it. I was always taught in church that Advent was a time of contemplation and reflection - one minister referred to it as a "mini-Lent," where you examine your heart and soul and do some spiritual housecleaning, to make things ready for the birth of the Babe. (I wonder now if the tradition - which my father's parents followed - of not putting up the tree until December 24 was partly a holdover of that. Oh, I'm sure there was also partly the practical concern of "real" tree + candles - you want the tree to be as fresh as possible if you're going to use candles. No, his family didn't, but for some years my mother's family did).
I suspect - though I don't know for sure - there were probably fast-days in the past, and other days when you didn't participate in festivities. And I wonder how that would fly in the world of Christmas parties and shopping and all of that.
(I would observe somewhat flippantly that for me, going to the mall on Black Friday would be a major penance. Though it wouldn't be one that would be good for me in any kind of purification sense; it would make me angry and hate people and destroy some of my goodwill. Which is why I tend to avoid the malls this time of year and do my shopping online/from catalogs or through small local businesses: there's not the same level of craziness.
I also stay away from the malls and such because I like to hang on to my belief - which I know, you can probably produce many bits of data to show it is untrue - that people are nicer during this time of year and more generous. In the experience I've seen, if food banks are going to be anywhere near fully stocked, it's more likely this time of year. And lots of people throw money in the Salvation Army kettles. (I do when I see one. Even if I only have a few quarters at the bottom of my purse that I can grab quickly. I do it mainly for myself, actually: partly as a "thank You that I have enough money to spare that I can do this" and also partly to a reminder to myself that (a) however much I may worry about getting the bills paid, I can always get them paid and (b) there are a lot of things I want but don't need, but nothing I need that I don't have.)
At any rate: I really want to shift over to Holiday Mode, at least part time. Getting the house decorated is part of that. (And Sunday after church, we decorate the church). And maybe, if I'm fortunate, I can finish the gift mitts this weekend, which will mean all my Christmas gift-knitting is done and I can think about things like finishing up the socks on the needles, or going back to working on Potter, or maybe starting what I now think of at the Miss Marple Shawl.)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Much better mood
I'm giggling over my SO SRS picture of me (that really is my SO SRS expression) with a pancake on my head being deemed "adorable" by a member of the opposite sex.
I guess I'm in a better mood now than I've been in a while. It's hard to know why - as I said, I often feel as much an observer as a participant in my moods, and it often baffles me a bit how they change. There are any number of things that could have kicked me back into "normal gear." It could have been the couple of freezes finally killing out the ragweed and removing its pollen from the air. Or it could be deciding that in the absence of news, I can put the thing I was worrying about back to the back of my mind. Or it could be the pending holiday and the realization that this time next week, I will be seeing many of the people I love best in the world. Or it could be that I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel of this semester, and have decided that it's not actually an oncoming train. Or it could be a purely, um, cyclic thing.
It could also be that it FINALLY feels like the seasons have changed. It gets cold at night (And also: I'm sleeping more soundly again, as I always do when I can let it get actually cold in my house), it's chilly enough that wearing wooly clothes is a possibility, I can finally put away the little cotton summer dresses that I have become so tired of.
Or it could be that the holiday ads have started up. Not the icky, skeevy ones that seem to imply if you don't buy your wife/girlfriend/female partner jewelry for the holiday, you are a loser who doesn't deserve her. Or the car ads. But there have been a few local-business ads on that are more in the vein of "We wish you and yours a lovely holiday season, and may 2011 be the best year ever."
I like the businesses that do that.
And I also admit: I like the horrible, tacky-cheap gift ads. The Chia Pet and the Clapper being two of the perennials, and now the Snuggie seems to have joined them. (Though I think the Snuggie has realized the only way it can do ads on itself is to slip into self-parody).
That said? I would be more amused than offended if someone gave me a chia pet for Christmas. Sometimes my dad has done stuff like that - gotten a nice gift and then some kind of joke gift, and either wrapped the joke gift more nicely (so it gets grabbed first) or pushes the person to open the joke gift first. We all know what the eventual outcome will be (that there will be a nicer gift), so no one's hurt by the joke gifts.
(I think part of the reason I like the ads is that they're a childhood memory of the season, just as much as A Charlie Brown Christmas or the "Santa Tracker" that some of the weather-radar guys do on Christmas Eve)
I wonder if the SpongeBob SquarePants Snuggie I saw in the drugstore comes in adult sizes. If it does, I would not be at all surprised if someone bought me one.
I guess I'm in a better mood now than I've been in a while. It's hard to know why - as I said, I often feel as much an observer as a participant in my moods, and it often baffles me a bit how they change. There are any number of things that could have kicked me back into "normal gear." It could have been the couple of freezes finally killing out the ragweed and removing its pollen from the air. Or it could be deciding that in the absence of news, I can put the thing I was worrying about back to the back of my mind. Or it could be the pending holiday and the realization that this time next week, I will be seeing many of the people I love best in the world. Or it could be that I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel of this semester, and have decided that it's not actually an oncoming train. Or it could be a purely, um, cyclic thing.
It could also be that it FINALLY feels like the seasons have changed. It gets cold at night (And also: I'm sleeping more soundly again, as I always do when I can let it get actually cold in my house), it's chilly enough that wearing wooly clothes is a possibility, I can finally put away the little cotton summer dresses that I have become so tired of.
Or it could be that the holiday ads have started up. Not the icky, skeevy ones that seem to imply if you don't buy your wife/girlfriend/female partner jewelry for the holiday, you are a loser who doesn't deserve her. Or the car ads. But there have been a few local-business ads on that are more in the vein of "We wish you and yours a lovely holiday season, and may 2011 be the best year ever."
I like the businesses that do that.
And I also admit: I like the horrible, tacky-cheap gift ads. The Chia Pet and the Clapper being two of the perennials, and now the Snuggie seems to have joined them. (Though I think the Snuggie has realized the only way it can do ads on itself is to slip into self-parody).
That said? I would be more amused than offended if someone gave me a chia pet for Christmas. Sometimes my dad has done stuff like that - gotten a nice gift and then some kind of joke gift, and either wrapped the joke gift more nicely (so it gets grabbed first) or pushes the person to open the joke gift first. We all know what the eventual outcome will be (that there will be a nicer gift), so no one's hurt by the joke gifts.
(I think part of the reason I like the ads is that they're a childhood memory of the season, just as much as A Charlie Brown Christmas or the "Santa Tracker" that some of the weather-radar guys do on Christmas Eve)
I wonder if the SpongeBob SquarePants Snuggie I saw in the drugstore comes in adult sizes. If it does, I would not be at all surprised if someone bought me one.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Changed my mind
So I went home. And I graded papers for a while. (Papers, they never end this time of year. These are the GIS project papers. At least with these, they are the "final" paper and the next time the class meets is the 30th, so I feel like I can do a few each day - which is good, as they're long papers and I have to go through them fairly carefully).
After grading papers for a couple hours, I made the pancakes. And that's when I changed my mind. Probably it was the result of having spent a fair amount of time grading, but the idea of recreating the "bunny shot" was too irresistible.
YOUR ARGUMENT IS IRRELEVANT; I HAVE A PANCAKE ON MY HEAD.
Or, in French: DESOLÉE MAIS JE NE PEUT PAS VOUS AIDER. DONC JE SUIS ICI AVEC UN PANCAKE SUR MA TÊTE.
(PANCAKE is French? That's what the bunny had. I think I would have been more likely to say "crêpe," but the pumpkin pancakes are far too thick and have too much floury to be true crêpes.)
I tried to capture a similar expression to what the bunny in the famous photo had, but it's hard when you have your eyes in the typical "predator position" (front of the head, for binocular vision) rather than the typical "prey position" (sides of the head, for 180 degree vision).
And yeah, I know: it may be inadvisable for someone up for promotion to post a photograph of herself with a pancake on her head online. But, I have none of the vices people typically get busted for posting pictures of themselves indulging in.
(Isn't there the saying, "Beware the man with no vices"? While I don't claim to have no vices, mine are fairly innocuous. Or so I think)
And at any rate: "A little nonsense, now and then, is relished by the wisest men."
(Oh, I wonder if with the holidays rolling around they'll start showing that movie more regularly again. While it's not in my top-ten favorites EVER, I certainly enjoy it and look forward to watching it.)
After grading papers for a couple hours, I made the pancakes. And that's when I changed my mind. Probably it was the result of having spent a fair amount of time grading, but the idea of recreating the "bunny shot" was too irresistible.
YOUR ARGUMENT IS IRRELEVANT; I HAVE A PANCAKE ON MY HEAD.
Or, in French: DESOLÉE MAIS JE NE PEUT PAS VOUS AIDER. DONC JE SUIS ICI AVEC UN PANCAKE SUR MA TÊTE.
(PANCAKE is French? That's what the bunny had. I think I would have been more likely to say "crêpe," but the pumpkin pancakes are far too thick and have too much floury to be true crêpes.)
I tried to capture a similar expression to what the bunny in the famous photo had, but it's hard when you have your eyes in the typical "predator position" (front of the head, for binocular vision) rather than the typical "prey position" (sides of the head, for 180 degree vision).
And yeah, I know: it may be inadvisable for someone up for promotion to post a photograph of herself with a pancake on her head online. But, I have none of the vices people typically get busted for posting pictures of themselves indulging in.
(Isn't there the saying, "Beware the man with no vices"? While I don't claim to have no vices, mine are fairly innocuous. Or so I think)
And at any rate: "A little nonsense, now and then, is relished by the wisest men."
(Oh, I wonder if with the holidays rolling around they'll start showing that movie more regularly again. While it's not in my top-ten favorites EVER, I certainly enjoy it and look forward to watching it.)
Speaking of pancakes
I think tonight is going to be a Pancake Night.
This is an increasingly rare occurrence in my life, because of the combination of Must Eat More Vegetables and Oh Noes, My Metabolism Has Slowed Even Further usually suggests a salad or somesuch is a "better" dinner.
But I think I just want pancakes tonight. And I have a pumpkin pancake mix, that has actual pumpkin in it, and that's a vegetable, no?
(Yes, yes: botanically, it's a fruit. But it contains Vitamin A and stuff and I tend to treat "regular" pumpkin as a vegetable, putting it in soup and things.)
However, I will not be putting up photographs of myself with a pancake on my head.
This is an increasingly rare occurrence in my life, because of the combination of Must Eat More Vegetables and Oh Noes, My Metabolism Has Slowed Even Further usually suggests a salad or somesuch is a "better" dinner.
But I think I just want pancakes tonight. And I have a pumpkin pancake mix, that has actual pumpkin in it, and that's a vegetable, no?
(Yes, yes: botanically, it's a fruit. But it contains Vitamin A and stuff and I tend to treat "regular" pumpkin as a vegetable, putting it in soup and things.)
However, I will not be putting up photographs of myself with a pancake on my head.
Found something out
I'm not terribly happy about it, but there's nothing I can do.
It turns out the policy on tenure and promotion has changed. Back in '03/'04, when I was going through tenuring and the first promotion, I received a letter every step of the way: a "congratulations" letter from the committee. Then from the dean. Then from the president.
Now, apparently, you don't hear anything until the final approval. Which is, like, in next May.
There was a rationale given for this. I don't agree with it and I think it's kind of unfair to the applicant to keep them hanging for eight months, but whatever. I have no control over it.
The other thing is, if you're turned down, you don't know who did it. That's part of the rationale for only hearing at the end, I guess: to prevent reprisals against the person who said "no." But for me, a "no" from my committee would me something very different from a "no" from an administrator who maybe was told to watch the purse strings.
A committee "no" would mean "you're work's not up to par, you need to change things." An administrative "no" might mean "We're trying to economize, so sorry you got hit." The first one, I would feel very bad about. The second one, while I'd feel bead, it would be fore a different reason and I would not feel that it was my "fault" I got turned down.
(ETA: Now that I think about it, I'm wondering if in the past couple days I heard a couple somewhat cryptic hints from two different committee members that would point to a "I'm trying to tell you we said yes, but I'm not allowed to tell you outright." But I'm not confident enough to accept them as actual hints but am thinking of them as "something I might be reading too much into." Sigh. I hate my brain sometimes. It's good being analytical; it's not good overanalyzing everything to the nth degree...)
But whatever. I'm going to just go back into denial about the process and pretend it's not happening, in order to save my sanity. There may also be a few situations of excrement coming into contact with a spinning object this spring, so I just need to kind of pull in and preserve my sense of who I am and what I stand for.
So anyway. Here's a bunny with a pancake on his head.
Also, he comes in French.
And with French T.P. which is called P.Q. (for Papier Cul. ("Cul" is like "bottom" in French, but ruder). I learned something today. (about the PQ.)
More on pécu (which is a term I think I do remember reading, now) can be seen here
Never having been to France, I had no idea that pink was its predominant color over there. (Personally, I prefer white, like most Americans seem to...)
It turns out the policy on tenure and promotion has changed. Back in '03/'04, when I was going through tenuring and the first promotion, I received a letter every step of the way: a "congratulations" letter from the committee. Then from the dean. Then from the president.
Now, apparently, you don't hear anything until the final approval. Which is, like, in next May.
There was a rationale given for this. I don't agree with it and I think it's kind of unfair to the applicant to keep them hanging for eight months, but whatever. I have no control over it.
The other thing is, if you're turned down, you don't know who did it. That's part of the rationale for only hearing at the end, I guess: to prevent reprisals against the person who said "no." But for me, a "no" from my committee would me something very different from a "no" from an administrator who maybe was told to watch the purse strings.
A committee "no" would mean "you're work's not up to par, you need to change things." An administrative "no" might mean "We're trying to economize, so sorry you got hit." The first one, I would feel very bad about. The second one, while I'd feel bead, it would be fore a different reason and I would not feel that it was my "fault" I got turned down.
(ETA: Now that I think about it, I'm wondering if in the past couple days I heard a couple somewhat cryptic hints from two different committee members that would point to a "I'm trying to tell you we said yes, but I'm not allowed to tell you outright." But I'm not confident enough to accept them as actual hints but am thinking of them as "something I might be reading too much into." Sigh. I hate my brain sometimes. It's good being analytical; it's not good overanalyzing everything to the nth degree...)
But whatever. I'm going to just go back into denial about the process and pretend it's not happening, in order to save my sanity. There may also be a few situations of excrement coming into contact with a spinning object this spring, so I just need to kind of pull in and preserve my sense of who I am and what I stand for.
So anyway. Here's a bunny with a pancake on his head.
Also, he comes in French.
More on pécu (which is a term I think I do remember reading, now) can be seen here
Never having been to France, I had no idea that pink was its predominant color over there. (Personally, I prefer white, like most Americans seem to...)
Odd little memory
It's really strange how some things stick in your memory, and get called up at odd times.
This morning, I'm prepping linear regression for my class, and I ran across the terms "ordinate" and "abscissa" in the textbook. (Are those terms even used much any more? With some of the students I have a hard enough time helping them remember "independent variable" and "dependent variable.")
But anyway. It brought back a vivid memory from fourth grade - math class, I think. My family was preparing to go to my paternal grandmother's for Thanksgiving (the next to last Thanksgiving we were to have with her, but we did not know that at the time).
I think I had to leave early and got an excused absence from school. The teacher said, as I was leaving, "Let me give you what we were going to do in math class tomorrow; it's really just a fun thing but you might like to do it."
It was a sheet of graph paper and a page of coordinates, with a color next to each group of coordinates.
I tended to like that kind of thing - it was math, it was sort of meditative once you figured out how to do it, and it involved art supplies.
At the end, if you did it right (and actually, I think there was a typo in the instructions), you got a picture of a turkey. Well, a rasterized picture anyway, kind of like the old 8-bit video game graphics. (Which were still in the future in 1978 or so, when I did this).
It's funny, though, how I can remember the old classroom, and the teacher stopping me as I headed out the door, and sitting at my parents' kitchen table the night before we left trying to figure the turkey picture out. (I think we also did more of those later on. I suppose it was a way to teach Cartesian coordinates to children or something).
Funny, I never wound up doing counted-cross-stitch (which has a similar way of doing things, except it's charted out rather than a list of coordinates). My few attempts involved me getting off-chart, and having to rip back work, and getting frustrated...
But I'm fairly sure we learned the terms "ordinate" and "abscissa" for the x and the y. I wonder if they're still used much, or if kids still make those kinds of pictures in school math classes.
This morning, I'm prepping linear regression for my class, and I ran across the terms "ordinate" and "abscissa" in the textbook. (Are those terms even used much any more? With some of the students I have a hard enough time helping them remember "independent variable" and "dependent variable.")
But anyway. It brought back a vivid memory from fourth grade - math class, I think. My family was preparing to go to my paternal grandmother's for Thanksgiving (the next to last Thanksgiving we were to have with her, but we did not know that at the time).
I think I had to leave early and got an excused absence from school. The teacher said, as I was leaving, "Let me give you what we were going to do in math class tomorrow; it's really just a fun thing but you might like to do it."
It was a sheet of graph paper and a page of coordinates, with a color next to each group of coordinates.
I tended to like that kind of thing - it was math, it was sort of meditative once you figured out how to do it, and it involved art supplies.
At the end, if you did it right (and actually, I think there was a typo in the instructions), you got a picture of a turkey. Well, a rasterized picture anyway, kind of like the old 8-bit video game graphics. (Which were still in the future in 1978 or so, when I did this).
It's funny, though, how I can remember the old classroom, and the teacher stopping me as I headed out the door, and sitting at my parents' kitchen table the night before we left trying to figure the turkey picture out. (I think we also did more of those later on. I suppose it was a way to teach Cartesian coordinates to children or something).
Funny, I never wound up doing counted-cross-stitch (which has a similar way of doing things, except it's charted out rather than a list of coordinates). My few attempts involved me getting off-chart, and having to rip back work, and getting frustrated...
But I'm fairly sure we learned the terms "ordinate" and "abscissa" for the x and the y. I wonder if they're still used much, or if kids still make those kinds of pictures in school math classes.
Busy is good
(First off: the record on the wall is a reprint of a poster from the early days of Pathé records in France. I bought it because (a) it's a really cool graphic and (b) Pathé recorded many of the chanson artists I enjoy. There is a small slogan on the side of the record that says L'enregistrement electrique le plus perfectionne, essentially boasting that they were the best of their day. (A copy of the advertisement can be seen here)
I think keeping busy keeps the things that frustrate me at bay.
Yesterday, I had 20 student papers to grade. (Well, I had already read 2/3 of them on Monday, and put comments on, and graded them "in my mind," so to speak - so for most of them, I just had to fill out the rubric I use). I did those over my lunch hour, then came back to campus and wrote an exam for next week.
And I didn't obsess about the thing I've been obsessing about.
Actually, I find getting things done is a good cure for anything that bothers me. Even something like cleaning house. I think part of it - only part - is the distraction. The other part is that by getting things done that are hanging over my head, I feel happier, because, well, those things aren't hanging over my head any more.
(I think my sense of responsibility has over-developed. I don't quite know how to scale back on it and even if it would be good to, but I think it's not healthy when you're waking up at 2 am and going "I have to write a position-paper assignment for tomorrow!")
Unfortunately, I think these days, crafts allow my brain to work too much - allow me to ruminate on things.
However, also, my mood changed yesterday. I don't know why. (Sometimes I feel like I am as much an observer to, as a participant in, my moods). I also realized that (a) I could accept whatever decision came but (b) conversely, I don't think it will be a negative decision.
I don't know how I came to this realization. Sometimes I "decide" things without reasoning them out too much, it's like the feeling suddenly hits me. (An example: some years back, when my dad was going through all sorts of medical testing, and we didn't know what the problem was (at one point they thought the bloodwork might suggest early stage ALS, even though he had no symptoms). I had worried about it a lot, and finally decided the only way to get through was to tell myself during the day, "You cannot worry about this now. You can pray about it tonight." One night, as I was sitting knitting on what became the prayer afghan I made for my dad, I got this overwhelming sense of peace: that it would be OK. I was better able to cope after that.
Some weeks later, we found out that it was none of the really bad scary untreatable things, and while it was something potentially scary and potentially fatal if untreated, it was also VERY early in the problem's development, to the point where they were talking about "cure" rather than "remission." And he's been fine since getting treatment.)
So I hope that my "sense of peace" about this is similar.
I'm working away on the last (yay) pair of gift-mitts for this year. I'm using a pattern called "Basketry Mitts," which is very nice. (I chose it because these are a "blind" gift for a gift exchange, I don't know who will get them, and it says that these mitts fit a wide range of hands because the pattern is stretchy). I'm using one of the Paton's tweedy color-changing yarns (Clover Mix, I think the colorway is called). I'm very pleased with it - for a fairly inexpensive and widely-available yarn it's very pretty, and it does the same kind of ombre-color thing that yarns like Mini Mochi and Poems Sock do, while being FAR less splitty. The Paton's yarn is a tweedy plied yarn (either 3 or four plies, I forget which and I don't have it in front of me) and it's the plies that gradually change color, to give the ombre effect, instead of having a Kureyon-like singles-that-changes-color.
I've decided I'm just not a fan of singles sock yarn, no matter how pretty it may be.
I think keeping busy keeps the things that frustrate me at bay.
Yesterday, I had 20 student papers to grade. (Well, I had already read 2/3 of them on Monday, and put comments on, and graded them "in my mind," so to speak - so for most of them, I just had to fill out the rubric I use). I did those over my lunch hour, then came back to campus and wrote an exam for next week.
And I didn't obsess about the thing I've been obsessing about.
Actually, I find getting things done is a good cure for anything that bothers me. Even something like cleaning house. I think part of it - only part - is the distraction. The other part is that by getting things done that are hanging over my head, I feel happier, because, well, those things aren't hanging over my head any more.
(I think my sense of responsibility has over-developed. I don't quite know how to scale back on it and even if it would be good to, but I think it's not healthy when you're waking up at 2 am and going "I have to write a position-paper assignment for tomorrow!")
Unfortunately, I think these days, crafts allow my brain to work too much - allow me to ruminate on things.
However, also, my mood changed yesterday. I don't know why. (Sometimes I feel like I am as much an observer to, as a participant in, my moods). I also realized that (a) I could accept whatever decision came but (b) conversely, I don't think it will be a negative decision.
I don't know how I came to this realization. Sometimes I "decide" things without reasoning them out too much, it's like the feeling suddenly hits me. (An example: some years back, when my dad was going through all sorts of medical testing, and we didn't know what the problem was (at one point they thought the bloodwork might suggest early stage ALS, even though he had no symptoms). I had worried about it a lot, and finally decided the only way to get through was to tell myself during the day, "You cannot worry about this now. You can pray about it tonight." One night, as I was sitting knitting on what became the prayer afghan I made for my dad, I got this overwhelming sense of peace: that it would be OK. I was better able to cope after that.
Some weeks later, we found out that it was none of the really bad scary untreatable things, and while it was something potentially scary and potentially fatal if untreated, it was also VERY early in the problem's development, to the point where they were talking about "cure" rather than "remission." And he's been fine since getting treatment.)
So I hope that my "sense of peace" about this is similar.
I'm working away on the last (yay) pair of gift-mitts for this year. I'm using a pattern called "Basketry Mitts," which is very nice. (I chose it because these are a "blind" gift for a gift exchange, I don't know who will get them, and it says that these mitts fit a wide range of hands because the pattern is stretchy). I'm using one of the Paton's tweedy color-changing yarns (Clover Mix, I think the colorway is called). I'm very pleased with it - for a fairly inexpensive and widely-available yarn it's very pretty, and it does the same kind of ombre-color thing that yarns like Mini Mochi and Poems Sock do, while being FAR less splitty. The Paton's yarn is a tweedy plied yarn (either 3 or four plies, I forget which and I don't have it in front of me) and it's the plies that gradually change color, to give the ombre effect, instead of having a Kureyon-like singles-that-changes-color.
I've decided I'm just not a fan of singles sock yarn, no matter how pretty it may be.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
You know what?
Even with all the frustrations, even with the people who sit in the back and try to stealth-text, even with the people who don't seem engaged, I still enjoy teaching.
I have at least a core of people in each class who care, who take notes, who ask questions, who are concerned about learning the material.
And that should be enough. I'll probably never "convert" the people acting bored into caring - maybe no one could. But I should continue to prepare hard and walk into class ready and be cheerful for the people who do care.
I have at least a core of people in each class who care, who take notes, who ask questions, who are concerned about learning the material.
And that should be enough. I'll probably never "convert" the people acting bored into caring - maybe no one could. But I should continue to prepare hard and walk into class ready and be cheerful for the people who do care.
One more week.
That's what I'm telling myself right now.
(The snowflakes have become a right blizzard. I know to expect that the approaching end of a semester will bring panic to the unprepared, but this year it seems worse - or I am less tolerant of it - than in the past).
I think part of the problem is I need to get out of my "headspace," so to speak - right now everything is so wrapped up with work that I can't quite see anything else.
It will be so good to get home to see my family. So good to "run away" for a few days. So good to have some time to knit and some time to read. (I've already started going through books for train-reading. I ordered one - I hope it comes in time - on the Dust Bowl (it's by Timothy Egan). I realized, watching a documentary on the Dust Bowl this weekend, that there's a lot I don't know about it. And while I refer to it in Soils, I feel like I should probably teach more on it, seeing as we live in one of the states affected by the Dust Bowl. And also, and this is related to my discussion of Veteran's Day, I think a lot of people in my generation and in the younger generations aren't as aware of some of the not-all-that-distant history of our country.
And besides, having experienced a time (several years ago) when there was a lot of wind erosion (from West Texas - I was driving back from McKinney and saw all the fine-textured soil being blown through the air), I realize that people need to know about the risks of wind erosion, and maybe people who wind up being land managers or ranchers or something (or even who just own land) will try to do things to prevent it, if they know what it's like.
I do have a link to some old footage of one of the dust storms - it's kind of grainy and hard to see what's in it, but maybe it and some of the photos will bring home some of the magnitude of how bad it was.
And I think reading the book will help me consider how to frame the discussion, and what to include.)
(The snowflakes have become a right blizzard. I know to expect that the approaching end of a semester will bring panic to the unprepared, but this year it seems worse - or I am less tolerant of it - than in the past).
I think part of the problem is I need to get out of my "headspace," so to speak - right now everything is so wrapped up with work that I can't quite see anything else.
It will be so good to get home to see my family. So good to "run away" for a few days. So good to have some time to knit and some time to read. (I've already started going through books for train-reading. I ordered one - I hope it comes in time - on the Dust Bowl (it's by Timothy Egan). I realized, watching a documentary on the Dust Bowl this weekend, that there's a lot I don't know about it. And while I refer to it in Soils, I feel like I should probably teach more on it, seeing as we live in one of the states affected by the Dust Bowl. And also, and this is related to my discussion of Veteran's Day, I think a lot of people in my generation and in the younger generations aren't as aware of some of the not-all-that-distant history of our country.
And besides, having experienced a time (several years ago) when there was a lot of wind erosion (from West Texas - I was driving back from McKinney and saw all the fine-textured soil being blown through the air), I realize that people need to know about the risks of wind erosion, and maybe people who wind up being land managers or ranchers or something (or even who just own land) will try to do things to prevent it, if they know what it's like.
I do have a link to some old footage of one of the dust storms - it's kind of grainy and hard to see what's in it, but maybe it and some of the photos will bring home some of the magnitude of how bad it was.
And I think reading the book will help me consider how to frame the discussion, and what to include.)
Monday, November 15, 2010
The small comforts
Sometimes you take them where you can get them.
(I had 1/3 of a class fail to hand in a paper due today. And then I walked into the office and saw one of my committee members looking at the packet of one of the other people up for promotion this fall and it made me all twitchy again. I really hope that means I'll be getting a good-news letter in the next few days. Or actually, an any-kind-of-news letter. Like sitting in the dentist's chair or being faced with an unexplained travel delay on the train, it's the anticipation that's really more painful for me than any actual reality).
Anyway. The small comforts. For one thing, I'm choosing my clothes this week to be things that I think of as "emotional armor." I think I've mentioned this before: certain outfits that either feel protective in some way, or that I wore before at a time that had good memories attached to it.
Today, I wore a purple jacket that I made...well, back when I had time to sew some of my own clothes (sigh). It was a Palmer/Pletsch design, which may mean something to the people who sew.
(My face in that picture makes me cringe. I decided not to slap a smiley-face sticker over it on the photo, though, but that's the for-real end-of-the-day look, crazy hair and all.)
I think tomorrow I'm going to wear something that I can wear my Bird's Nest Shawl (the one designed to look like Tibetan prayer flags in the lace pattern - or at least I think it does).
Because I feel like I need emotional armor right now. Even with it, I'm still pretty drained at the end of the day.
Another small comfort - I found my sheepy hot water bottle.
I bought this some years back - I think it was from one of the gifty-type shops in Sherman that, in retrospect, may have been close to going out of business (but it wasn't a going-out-of-business sale). It was a "here's a bunch of crazy stuff that we only have one or two left of, anything you can fit in a paper bag you'll get 40% off on." That's how I got my vintage-style printed tabby cat doorstop, and also a bunch of other items, some of which became gifts. I think I originally intended the sheep as a gift, too, but then one day I pulled a muscle and couldn't find my rice bag, and I used it instead. And then it got tucked away and I only found it again this weekend.
And this is one of those cases where a low-tech thing actually is better (IMHO) than a high-tech version. I never quite trusted heating pads - for one thing, the whole electricity thing (I'd be afraid of going to sleep with one on). And there's the electromagnetic radiation heebie jeebies thing (weren't there a spate of scare-stories, a few years ago, about how you'd get cancer from sleeping under electric blankets? Or they rendered people sterile, or something (not that that last would be such a huge concern of mine; I think the biological-baby ship sailed at least five years ago here))
And rice bags, as nice as they can be - they require heating in a microwave. And they're often too hot when they first come out. And they cool down faster than a covered hot water bottle does. (I've used this one twice now this weekend, and it stays warm much longer than a rice bag does).
And yes, I know: hot water bottles can burst or leak. But this one seems to be extremely sturdy, and the plug on it is good and tight.
And there's just something nice about it. Lying there on the sofa with a sheep hot water bottle on your chest or your stomach when you're cold or achy. It almost works as a pet-substitute.
(I keep thinking: it may be time to cat-proof my house and think about getting a cat. Because I really, really need something else alive (other than the plants), something with a life separate from mine, and something that (hopefully) will at least feign happiness when I come home at the end of the day. I'll have to wait until after Christmas if I do do that though, and think on it more, because being gone for 20 days or so at Christmas would not be good shortly after obtaining a cat, and my plans for travel are already made.)
(I had 1/3 of a class fail to hand in a paper due today. And then I walked into the office and saw one of my committee members looking at the packet of one of the other people up for promotion this fall and it made me all twitchy again. I really hope that means I'll be getting a good-news letter in the next few days. Or actually, an any-kind-of-news letter. Like sitting in the dentist's chair or being faced with an unexplained travel delay on the train, it's the anticipation that's really more painful for me than any actual reality).
Anyway. The small comforts. For one thing, I'm choosing my clothes this week to be things that I think of as "emotional armor." I think I've mentioned this before: certain outfits that either feel protective in some way, or that I wore before at a time that had good memories attached to it.
Today, I wore a purple jacket that I made...well, back when I had time to sew some of my own clothes (sigh). It was a Palmer/Pletsch design, which may mean something to the people who sew.
(My face in that picture makes me cringe. I decided not to slap a smiley-face sticker over it on the photo, though, but that's the for-real end-of-the-day look, crazy hair and all.)
I think tomorrow I'm going to wear something that I can wear my Bird's Nest Shawl (the one designed to look like Tibetan prayer flags in the lace pattern - or at least I think it does).
Because I feel like I need emotional armor right now. Even with it, I'm still pretty drained at the end of the day.
Another small comfort - I found my sheepy hot water bottle.
I bought this some years back - I think it was from one of the gifty-type shops in Sherman that, in retrospect, may have been close to going out of business (but it wasn't a going-out-of-business sale). It was a "here's a bunch of crazy stuff that we only have one or two left of, anything you can fit in a paper bag you'll get 40% off on." That's how I got my vintage-style printed tabby cat doorstop, and also a bunch of other items, some of which became gifts. I think I originally intended the sheep as a gift, too, but then one day I pulled a muscle and couldn't find my rice bag, and I used it instead. And then it got tucked away and I only found it again this weekend.
And this is one of those cases where a low-tech thing actually is better (IMHO) than a high-tech version. I never quite trusted heating pads - for one thing, the whole electricity thing (I'd be afraid of going to sleep with one on). And there's the electromagnetic radiation heebie jeebies thing (weren't there a spate of scare-stories, a few years ago, about how you'd get cancer from sleeping under electric blankets? Or they rendered people sterile, or something (not that that last would be such a huge concern of mine; I think the biological-baby ship sailed at least five years ago here))
And rice bags, as nice as they can be - they require heating in a microwave. And they're often too hot when they first come out. And they cool down faster than a covered hot water bottle does. (I've used this one twice now this weekend, and it stays warm much longer than a rice bag does).
And yes, I know: hot water bottles can burst or leak. But this one seems to be extremely sturdy, and the plug on it is good and tight.
And there's just something nice about it. Lying there on the sofa with a sheep hot water bottle on your chest or your stomach when you're cold or achy. It almost works as a pet-substitute.
(I keep thinking: it may be time to cat-proof my house and think about getting a cat. Because I really, really need something else alive (other than the plants), something with a life separate from mine, and something that (hopefully) will at least feign happiness when I come home at the end of the day. I'll have to wait until after Christmas if I do do that though, and think on it more, because being gone for 20 days or so at Christmas would not be good shortly after obtaining a cat, and my plans for travel are already made.)
Get up eight...
There's an old Japanese (or so I was told) saying that goes something like, "Fall down seven times; get up eight."
Back in the days when we had .sig lines on our e-mails, I had that as mine for a while. It seemed to confuse people but I always took it to mean that you need to get back up (or whatever that represents: persisting, trying again, girding your loins for yet another week) at least one more time than life manages to knock you down.
I'm feeling some better this morning. (TChem, your comment in particular helped. You are probably right. It's just it's harder for me to believe it when I say it to myself).
I also think that it's just THAT time of the semester. I have had several e-mails from students apologizing for being absent or whatever, and then saying, "Passing this class is very important to me."
And on the one hand, that just makes me sad. Yes, I know, they're trying to make me feel guilty or compassionate or some such thing. But the cynical side of me wants to go, "O RLY? And you handed in only half the assignments because it's so important?"
Yes, I'd like to see everyone pass. But I refuse to lower my standards to make that happen.
I'm also dealing with a Snowflake who is being, well a Snowflake.
Nine days. Nine days and I get a break.
****
Charlotte, the Aysen has 191 yards a skein and the mitts took maybe 2/3 of the skein, if that helps. They don't take much yardage at all. (Fingerless mitts seem not to. For the sockweight ones, I can easily get a pair out of one fifty-gram skein of sockyarn. Even the Snow on Cedars mitts, which are longer than most - I still had a good 10 or 15 yards left from a 215-yard skein of Wildfoote.)
I'm on the last pair of gift-mitts right now - the ones for the AAUW gift exchange. I brought them as I invigilate a test this morning. Unless I feel all guilt-ridden and like I have to start reading the student papers that are due in that class this morning while they take the test. (It is an open-notes test so I don't have to check quite so closely for cheating).
Back in the days when we had .sig lines on our e-mails, I had that as mine for a while. It seemed to confuse people but I always took it to mean that you need to get back up (or whatever that represents: persisting, trying again, girding your loins for yet another week) at least one more time than life manages to knock you down.
I'm feeling some better this morning. (TChem, your comment in particular helped. You are probably right. It's just it's harder for me to believe it when I say it to myself).
I also think that it's just THAT time of the semester. I have had several e-mails from students apologizing for being absent or whatever, and then saying, "Passing this class is very important to me."
And on the one hand, that just makes me sad. Yes, I know, they're trying to make me feel guilty or compassionate or some such thing. But the cynical side of me wants to go, "O RLY? And you handed in only half the assignments because it's so important?"
Yes, I'd like to see everyone pass. But I refuse to lower my standards to make that happen.
I'm also dealing with a Snowflake who is being, well a Snowflake.
Nine days. Nine days and I get a break.
****
Charlotte, the Aysen has 191 yards a skein and the mitts took maybe 2/3 of the skein, if that helps. They don't take much yardage at all. (Fingerless mitts seem not to. For the sockweight ones, I can easily get a pair out of one fifty-gram skein of sockyarn. Even the Snow on Cedars mitts, which are longer than most - I still had a good 10 or 15 yards left from a 215-yard skein of Wildfoote.)
I'm on the last pair of gift-mitts right now - the ones for the AAUW gift exchange. I brought them as I invigilate a test this morning. Unless I feel all guilt-ridden and like I have to start reading the student papers that are due in that class this morning while they take the test. (It is an open-notes test so I don't have to check quite so closely for cheating).
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Remind me again
I spend a lot of time giving reassurance to people, and sometimes I don't feel comfortable asking for it when I need it. But I need it now.
Back in September, I said:
I need reminding of that now.
(No, I haven't heard anything yet. I think the meeting is supposed to happen in the coming week. But I've been terribly stressed about it this weekend, in part because I had a very vivid "rejection" dream (where I was rejected by someone I cared about) and I also saw one of my committee members at church and he didn't seem all that cheerful or anything. (However, his wife is not well, and I am sure that was what was on his mind). But I keep envisioning in my mind walking in Monday morning and finding a letter in my mailbox, and having it say, "Sorry, no."
And I know that's rather illogical. For one thing, my committee chair asked me last week how the letter-of-approval needed to be addressed. And for another thing, I tell myself that my committee members would NOT have agreed to be my committee members if they didn't have a reasonable expectation of being able to say "yes," because no one here likes to waste time on saying "no" to these kinds of applications, and people are much more prone to gently say, "Maybe you should try again in a few years" when someone asks them to be on a promotions committee if they did not have confidence in that person.)
It's what Anne Lamott referred to as "Radio KFKD," that weird bicameral thing that some of us do in our brains, where in one ear there's an ongoing strain of self-aggrandizement (though I seem to be partially deaf in that ear) and in the other, a strain of the worst Inner Critic-speak you can imagine.
I probably should not have been by myself as much as I was this weekend. It's a two-edged sword: I really need to be alone and quiet to recharge (I think some of the stressed-out-ness of last week was that I didn't really get much "alone time" all weekend long). But on the other hand, if something's weighing on my mind, it's like a hamster in a wheel, I can't stop thinking about it.
And there are no good cartoons on right now. I find that cartoons are the best thing at distracting me from the hamster-wheel-inner-critic.
I think also it's that it's just been such a long hard slog this semester, I'm really tired and worn out and I don't bounce back from stuff as fast when I'm tired. And it's been too long since I spent time with family. As much as I love my colleagues (well, most of 'em) and the people I go to church with, they don't understand me the way my relatives do.
I know, I know: just over a week until I'm off for Thanksgiving. But that feels kind of like forever right now.
***
In happier news, I did finish one thing this weekend, the Maine Morning Mitts for the family friend.
This means all the mitt-gifts that I need to carry up to my parents' house are safely done. (The friend lives in Ohio, but this means I can wrap my gift and pop it in the box with my mom's gift. They're light enough that I doubt they would cost very much more in postage...)
This is a super-fast gift; I think you could probably knit a pair in a day if you had nothing else you had to be doing.
Back in September, I said:
Even if I do not make Full Professor, that will not make me any less compassionate. It will not make me any less able to help my graduate student finish her degree. It will not make me any less good of a teacher (however good I may be). It will not make me less loyal or less responsible or less able to do stuff well on short notice when asked. It doesn't make me any less important to those people who love me, it doesn't make me love the people I love any less..
I need reminding of that now.
(No, I haven't heard anything yet. I think the meeting is supposed to happen in the coming week. But I've been terribly stressed about it this weekend, in part because I had a very vivid "rejection" dream (where I was rejected by someone I cared about) and I also saw one of my committee members at church and he didn't seem all that cheerful or anything. (However, his wife is not well, and I am sure that was what was on his mind). But I keep envisioning in my mind walking in Monday morning and finding a letter in my mailbox, and having it say, "Sorry, no."
And I know that's rather illogical. For one thing, my committee chair asked me last week how the letter-of-approval needed to be addressed. And for another thing, I tell myself that my committee members would NOT have agreed to be my committee members if they didn't have a reasonable expectation of being able to say "yes," because no one here likes to waste time on saying "no" to these kinds of applications, and people are much more prone to gently say, "Maybe you should try again in a few years" when someone asks them to be on a promotions committee if they did not have confidence in that person.)
It's what Anne Lamott referred to as "Radio KFKD," that weird bicameral thing that some of us do in our brains, where in one ear there's an ongoing strain of self-aggrandizement (though I seem to be partially deaf in that ear) and in the other, a strain of the worst Inner Critic-speak you can imagine.
I probably should not have been by myself as much as I was this weekend. It's a two-edged sword: I really need to be alone and quiet to recharge (I think some of the stressed-out-ness of last week was that I didn't really get much "alone time" all weekend long). But on the other hand, if something's weighing on my mind, it's like a hamster in a wheel, I can't stop thinking about it.
And there are no good cartoons on right now. I find that cartoons are the best thing at distracting me from the hamster-wheel-inner-critic.
I think also it's that it's just been such a long hard slog this semester, I'm really tired and worn out and I don't bounce back from stuff as fast when I'm tired. And it's been too long since I spent time with family. As much as I love my colleagues (well, most of 'em) and the people I go to church with, they don't understand me the way my relatives do.
I know, I know: just over a week until I'm off for Thanksgiving. But that feels kind of like forever right now.
***
In happier news, I did finish one thing this weekend, the Maine Morning Mitts for the family friend.
This means all the mitt-gifts that I need to carry up to my parents' house are safely done. (The friend lives in Ohio, but this means I can wrap my gift and pop it in the box with my mom's gift. They're light enough that I doubt they would cost very much more in postage...)
This is a super-fast gift; I think you could probably knit a pair in a day if you had nothing else you had to be doing.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Some pretty things
So, I finished up the Snow on Cedars mitts. The yarn is maybe a bit darker than is ideal, but I think the lace pattern will show up all right when the mitts are being worn.
I will eventually make a pair for myself, I think. I have some lighter green Auraucania sockweight that should work nicely.
I also started the Maine Morning Mitts, to be a gift for a friend of the family:
The yarn looks more greenish in that photo than it actually is. This is one of the Auraucania yarns, a worsted-weight singles yarn (Aysen, maybe?). It is very soft so it should make nice mitts. (It's also nice to be making this pair of worsted-weight; they will go faster.
I plan to work on these this weekend; I AM taking Saturday off from work and such. Because darn it, I'm tired.
I also bought myself a small treat.
This is from See Jayne Knits on Etsy. She does hand-dyed yarn and also stitch markers. One of the lines of yarn she makes is colorways inspired by characters on NCIS.
The "Ducky" yarn was very attractive. And also, "Ducky" is my favorite character on the show (Abby is a close second, and she has an "Abby" yarn - hot pink and black, naturally - but I already have a sockyarn with hot pink and black (and also acid green) in it, and it's a stripey yarn, which seems like it would give an even more Abbyized sort of sock). But anyway. I bought the yarn inspired by "Ducky."
Very pretty, no? She says the teal reflects the color of the scrubs; the chestnut brown is from the suits he often wears, and the red is from the bright spot of color of his bowties.
I'm going to have to think of a good pattern to use it with. I think it will be one of the ones made specially for hand-painted yarn so the colors don't pool or muddy too much. Maybe a slipped-stitch pattern.
I will eventually make a pair for myself, I think. I have some lighter green Auraucania sockweight that should work nicely.
I also started the Maine Morning Mitts, to be a gift for a friend of the family:
The yarn looks more greenish in that photo than it actually is. This is one of the Auraucania yarns, a worsted-weight singles yarn (Aysen, maybe?). It is very soft so it should make nice mitts. (It's also nice to be making this pair of worsted-weight; they will go faster.
I plan to work on these this weekend; I AM taking Saturday off from work and such. Because darn it, I'm tired.
I also bought myself a small treat.
This is from See Jayne Knits on Etsy. She does hand-dyed yarn and also stitch markers. One of the lines of yarn she makes is colorways inspired by characters on NCIS.
The "Ducky" yarn was very attractive. And also, "Ducky" is my favorite character on the show (Abby is a close second, and she has an "Abby" yarn - hot pink and black, naturally - but I already have a sockyarn with hot pink and black (and also acid green) in it, and it's a stripey yarn, which seems like it would give an even more Abbyized sort of sock). But anyway. I bought the yarn inspired by "Ducky."
Very pretty, no? She says the teal reflects the color of the scrubs; the chestnut brown is from the suits he often wears, and the red is from the bright spot of color of his bowties.
I'm going to have to think of a good pattern to use it with. I think it will be one of the ones made specially for hand-painted yarn so the colors don't pool or muddy too much. Maybe a slipped-stitch pattern.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Christmas is coming!
And here is a helpful video on How To Wrap A Cat.
Alas, my family has no cats any longer, but old Cleo, in her prime, might just have put up with that. (Patty never would have; she would have totally shredded the paper.)
Alas, my family has no cats any longer, but old Cleo, in her prime, might just have put up with that. (Patty never would have; she would have totally shredded the paper.)
Remembering the 11th
Today is Veteran's Day.
I'm grateful to those who served. To those who were willing to (and in some cases, did) die in the defense of the U.S. or of her allies.
Today is also known - and I knew it better as a kid as - Armistice Day (and Memorial Day was known as Decoration Day). The eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month - we were taught that in school and it's always stuck with me. This is the memorial of the end of Western Front hostilities in World War I.
I guess we haven't any WWI veterans left. When I was a kid, they were still around - mostly people's grandfathers and older uncles, old men already at that time. (One of my grandfathers served - he never saw actual action; he was an experimental pilot in the early version of the Army Air Corps and I guess he was mainly involved with testing planes in Texas. One of my great-uncles also served, but I never met him - he died before I was born. My mother says his lungs were always weak after the war (he was gassed) and I guess pneumonia carried him off one winter.)
I remember as a child, going to the grocery store with my mom on this day (I think school was out), and her dropping some money in the VFW member's can and getting the little paper poppies to pin to our coats. I remember my grandmother had a number of paper poppies from past years pinned on one of those old calendars printed on a linen towel. (I suspect it would have been even more meaningful to her, having had a brother who fought, and probably having known many of the young men from her town who went to fight). I don't know if the poppies are still around or not, if that sort of thing is still done here.
(A rather nice exploration of the symbolism of the poppies, and their history, with photos, is at this Vivaboo site)
I'm always a bit taken aback how few of the current crop of college students (at least, the "traditional" ones) know the origin of this day. I've even adjudicated arguments over whether this was Memorial Day or Veteran's Day.
(And I find myself, at least in my mind, sadly repeating old Professor Kirke's line from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: "What DO they teach them in these schools, these days?")
I don't know. I guess as somewhat of a traditionalist, I think remembering days like this - the why, the how, the history - is important. Even if the people for whom it was originally established are all gone. (And the WWII veterans are fast leaving us.)
(It would have been nicely symbolic if I could have finished "The Guns of August" last night, but that didn't happen. I will say I have to read it in small doses; it seems World War I was a particularly brutal war (well, all wars are brutal) for the fighting men. It seems - I may have said this before - that it was a war fought using 20th century technology but a 19th century mindset, and I think that's probably the source of a lot of the slaughter of the ordinary fighting men. The aristocrats who led the armies were interested in dashing around on their horses and cutting a good figure, and seemed not as mindful of the men being mowed down by the then-new 75 mm guns or other new artillery...)
At any rate: I could probably not have served in the military myself (several of the health issues I've had over the years - and had, even at 18 - would have kept me out. And even as recently as the 80s, I don't think the military was seen as much as a career for women as it was for men). But I'm certainly grateful to those who did serve.
I'm grateful to those who served. To those who were willing to (and in some cases, did) die in the defense of the U.S. or of her allies.
Today is also known - and I knew it better as a kid as - Armistice Day (and Memorial Day was known as Decoration Day). The eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month - we were taught that in school and it's always stuck with me. This is the memorial of the end of Western Front hostilities in World War I.
I guess we haven't any WWI veterans left. When I was a kid, they were still around - mostly people's grandfathers and older uncles, old men already at that time. (One of my grandfathers served - he never saw actual action; he was an experimental pilot in the early version of the Army Air Corps and I guess he was mainly involved with testing planes in Texas. One of my great-uncles also served, but I never met him - he died before I was born. My mother says his lungs were always weak after the war (he was gassed) and I guess pneumonia carried him off one winter.)
I remember as a child, going to the grocery store with my mom on this day (I think school was out), and her dropping some money in the VFW member's can and getting the little paper poppies to pin to our coats. I remember my grandmother had a number of paper poppies from past years pinned on one of those old calendars printed on a linen towel. (I suspect it would have been even more meaningful to her, having had a brother who fought, and probably having known many of the young men from her town who went to fight). I don't know if the poppies are still around or not, if that sort of thing is still done here.
(A rather nice exploration of the symbolism of the poppies, and their history, with photos, is at this Vivaboo site)
I'm always a bit taken aback how few of the current crop of college students (at least, the "traditional" ones) know the origin of this day. I've even adjudicated arguments over whether this was Memorial Day or Veteran's Day.
(And I find myself, at least in my mind, sadly repeating old Professor Kirke's line from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: "What DO they teach them in these schools, these days?")
I don't know. I guess as somewhat of a traditionalist, I think remembering days like this - the why, the how, the history - is important. Even if the people for whom it was originally established are all gone. (And the WWII veterans are fast leaving us.)
(It would have been nicely symbolic if I could have finished "The Guns of August" last night, but that didn't happen. I will say I have to read it in small doses; it seems World War I was a particularly brutal war (well, all wars are brutal) for the fighting men. It seems - I may have said this before - that it was a war fought using 20th century technology but a 19th century mindset, and I think that's probably the source of a lot of the slaughter of the ordinary fighting men. The aristocrats who led the armies were interested in dashing around on their horses and cutting a good figure, and seemed not as mindful of the men being mowed down by the then-new 75 mm guns or other new artillery...)
At any rate: I could probably not have served in the military myself (several of the health issues I've had over the years - and had, even at 18 - would have kept me out. And even as recently as the 80s, I don't think the military was seen as much as a career for women as it was for men). But I'm certainly grateful to those who did serve.
Evning at home
I got finished up with class a little early yesterday (they were setting up an experiment which will have its data collected on Friday). Ran out to the wal-mart (there are sadly, still a few things I need that Green Spray does not carry, so I occasionally have to make trips there).
By the time I got home, I was starting with a slight headache. But the back of my neck and one sinus was involved, so that seemed like an oncoming migraine. I took something for it but decided to beg off the evening meeting I was supposed to go to. The headache never fully went away. If I had had to have been at the meeting, I probably could have gone, but I didn't absolutely have to be there.(Board meeting, it's not that essential I be there, as I'm not an "official" voting member of the board any longer; I'm what's called a "serving elder" meaning I do the Sunday-morning type stuff but don't have an official vote-as-an-elder on the board.
(And yes, it still seems strange to me that I would be an elder in my church. But I assume that people must see something in me I don't always see.)
So I stayed home. I think the headache may have been my body's way of telling me I needed to slow down a bit and stop pushing so hard.
I did manage to finish the second pair (the Snow on Cedars pattern) mitts. These took a lot longer than the average mitt but they're longer and more complex and prettier. (A better picture than what I could take is here, and there's also a link to the pattern shop where you can order the pattern)
***
In two weeks it will be Thanksgiving. There's a lot for me to get done between now and then, work-wise, but wow, am I looking forward to the evening of the 23rd, when I get on a train and don't have to think about work-related stuff for a couple of days.
I love Thanksgiving. I think it's a great holiday. (Granted, I've never had to do 100% of the hosting and cooking, and I get along with all the family that's likely to be around the table). I like it because there's relatively little to be concerned about: you don't have to plan for gifts (as much as I like giving gifts, sometimes it's worrisome if you're mailing them: will they get there on time?), you don't have the whole round of parties and socials and stuff like that leading up to the day. And the main focus of the day is a meal.
And I admit it: I like the traditional Thanksgiving meal. I like roast turkey and the New Englandy chestnut stuffing my mom makes. And the cranberries and potatoes and all those things. They're all foods I get maybe twice a year, at the most, so they don't seem stale to me.
I'm always a little taken aback by the articles and discussions I see about "pepping up" the traditional meal, or changing things, or any of that.
I can see, if you have a vegetarian member of your family - or someone on a very restricted diet - you would need to alter things to make sure there was enough the person could eat (and depending on the vegetarian's beliefs and their, ahem, "importance" in the family, maybe doing away with the turkey altogether.) But otherwise, I'm not big on the idea of eliminating tradition solely in the service of doing something "new."
I realize that's a philosophical difference I have with some folks. I tend to come down on the side of keeping tradition, unless there is something clearly wrong with it, but I know other people who want something new every year. I don't know. I suppose it's a personality thing - I know that I crave the familiar and that having Thanksgiving roll around again with the turkey and the green-tomato-mincemeat pie and the same kind of stuffing my family has always had is important to me. I think the familiar traditions (be they ones I do with my family, or things like my October trips to Longview that I've developed as my own traditions) remind me of what's good in life for me. And they remind me of who I am.
I think that's actually been a problem this fall: some days I think I started to lose who I was, fundamentally. I got so "covered up in alligators" and forgot to breathe and convinced myself that I couldn't take time for myself, that I kind of lost sight of things, and I know there were times when I was crabby when I normally wouldn't be, or despairing when I normally wouldn't be - crabby and despairing are not things that I am.
And it's weird - you do kind of see that you're losing track of yourself, but when you are, you either don't know how to stop it, or - it's not exactly that you don't CARE, but it's that you're too miserable at that point to see how to stop it.
But hopefully, maybe, after this week I can take a little bit of a breath and stop feeling like I have to run constantly to stay in the same place.
A funny thing: I was at the wal-mart yesterday, and while standing in the checkout line, I saw a guy in the next line over who looked kind of like my brother. I mean, he didn't look EXACTLY like him - but he was tall, and had long hair the same color as Jon's and the same receding hairline, and the hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the little oval glasses that my brother sometimes wears. And his expression and posture and general mannerism was very like my brother. And it was really strange, the intellectual part of my brain was going "that sure looks like Jon, but it's not him" while the emotional part of my brain was continuing to go "That's Jon! That's my BROTHER! I haven't seen him in so long!" Of course the intellectual part overrode the emotional part, but it was a strange sensation to see someone who reminded me so much of him, and yet know it wasn't him.
I guess it's been too long since I saw my family.
By the time I got home, I was starting with a slight headache. But the back of my neck and one sinus was involved, so that seemed like an oncoming migraine. I took something for it but decided to beg off the evening meeting I was supposed to go to. The headache never fully went away. If I had had to have been at the meeting, I probably could have gone, but I didn't absolutely have to be there.(Board meeting, it's not that essential I be there, as I'm not an "official" voting member of the board any longer; I'm what's called a "serving elder" meaning I do the Sunday-morning type stuff but don't have an official vote-as-an-elder on the board.
(And yes, it still seems strange to me that I would be an elder in my church. But I assume that people must see something in me I don't always see.)
So I stayed home. I think the headache may have been my body's way of telling me I needed to slow down a bit and stop pushing so hard.
I did manage to finish the second pair (the Snow on Cedars pattern) mitts. These took a lot longer than the average mitt but they're longer and more complex and prettier. (A better picture than what I could take is here, and there's also a link to the pattern shop where you can order the pattern)
***
In two weeks it will be Thanksgiving. There's a lot for me to get done between now and then, work-wise, but wow, am I looking forward to the evening of the 23rd, when I get on a train and don't have to think about work-related stuff for a couple of days.
I love Thanksgiving. I think it's a great holiday. (Granted, I've never had to do 100% of the hosting and cooking, and I get along with all the family that's likely to be around the table). I like it because there's relatively little to be concerned about: you don't have to plan for gifts (as much as I like giving gifts, sometimes it's worrisome if you're mailing them: will they get there on time?), you don't have the whole round of parties and socials and stuff like that leading up to the day. And the main focus of the day is a meal.
And I admit it: I like the traditional Thanksgiving meal. I like roast turkey and the New Englandy chestnut stuffing my mom makes. And the cranberries and potatoes and all those things. They're all foods I get maybe twice a year, at the most, so they don't seem stale to me.
I'm always a little taken aback by the articles and discussions I see about "pepping up" the traditional meal, or changing things, or any of that.
I can see, if you have a vegetarian member of your family - or someone on a very restricted diet - you would need to alter things to make sure there was enough the person could eat (and depending on the vegetarian's beliefs and their, ahem, "importance" in the family, maybe doing away with the turkey altogether.) But otherwise, I'm not big on the idea of eliminating tradition solely in the service of doing something "new."
I realize that's a philosophical difference I have with some folks. I tend to come down on the side of keeping tradition, unless there is something clearly wrong with it, but I know other people who want something new every year. I don't know. I suppose it's a personality thing - I know that I crave the familiar and that having Thanksgiving roll around again with the turkey and the green-tomato-mincemeat pie and the same kind of stuffing my family has always had is important to me. I think the familiar traditions (be they ones I do with my family, or things like my October trips to Longview that I've developed as my own traditions) remind me of what's good in life for me. And they remind me of who I am.
I think that's actually been a problem this fall: some days I think I started to lose who I was, fundamentally. I got so "covered up in alligators" and forgot to breathe and convinced myself that I couldn't take time for myself, that I kind of lost sight of things, and I know there were times when I was crabby when I normally wouldn't be, or despairing when I normally wouldn't be - crabby and despairing are not things that I am.
And it's weird - you do kind of see that you're losing track of yourself, but when you are, you either don't know how to stop it, or - it's not exactly that you don't CARE, but it's that you're too miserable at that point to see how to stop it.
But hopefully, maybe, after this week I can take a little bit of a breath and stop feeling like I have to run constantly to stay in the same place.
A funny thing: I was at the wal-mart yesterday, and while standing in the checkout line, I saw a guy in the next line over who looked kind of like my brother. I mean, he didn't look EXACTLY like him - but he was tall, and had long hair the same color as Jon's and the same receding hairline, and the hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the little oval glasses that my brother sometimes wears. And his expression and posture and general mannerism was very like my brother. And it was really strange, the intellectual part of my brain was going "that sure looks like Jon, but it's not him" while the emotional part of my brain was continuing to go "That's Jon! That's my BROTHER! I haven't seen him in so long!" Of course the intellectual part overrode the emotional part, but it was a strange sensation to see someone who reminded me so much of him, and yet know it wasn't him.
I guess it's been too long since I saw my family.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Day ended OK.
Yesterday ended better than it started. I think a big part of it was that I had all these odd-sized chunks of things I had to do - kind of like those stupid s or z shaped blocks in Tetris - and it was hard to see how I could fit everything in.
However, just for the record, here's what I did yesterday:
Wrote (and tested the problems for) three separate biostats take-home tests. (Three different forms to reduce the risk of collaboration. And yes, there are a couple people in that class that I am very careful to see that they get DIFFERENT forms).
Wrote the in-class portion of the test.
Prepped for, and taught my non-majors class. (Prep was minimal as the topic was Biomes, which I could probably teach in my sleep. And very possibly have, at some point in my life.)
Tried to help someone having a Computer Meltdown but didn't get very much done to help them.
Went and served lunch to students at the Wesley Center on campus.
Went and got the crickets for today's lab from the local pet shop. Went to the Wal-Mart and got the lettuce, plastic cups, and rubberbands needed for same. Managed to remember to tell both cashiers that I was using the departmental credit card and so it needed to be sales-tax exempt.
Gave a prospective student a tour of the building and talked about the department.
Went back and helped a second time with the Computer Meltdown, solved it this time.
Got my weekly allergy shots
Taught my evening class.
I even found time to wash my hair and do 30 minutes of piano practice in all that.
I will say that serving at the Wesley Center was shorter than anticipated: we didn't have very many students come in, there were four of it (it was my church's turn to serve; as there are really only three on-campus religious centers we, along with the other "mainline Protestant" churches (and I think the Catholics, too, in the absence of a Newman Center), join up with the Wesley Center. We serve lunch once a semester (they have weekly lunches). I usually volunteer to serve if I'm not in class, because I'm right on campus and can just walk over there. Anyway, the other ladies told me to go ahead and leave at 12:30 because there just were very few people coming in. (The lunch runs from 11 to about 1).
It took some time, yes, but it was kind of nice to do it. For one thing, it's nice to do something where people are actually grateful for what you do. One guy - it made me smile - one of the ladies asked him how he was doing, and he looked down at the plate she had just filled for him, grinned, and said, "I'm doing good, NOW." So I guess that improved his day a little bit. (We served lasagna, which seems to be a really popular choice: lasagna, garlic bread, salad, and cookies.)
We also stay and serve. I guess not all groups that serve do that - some drop off the food and have the students serve themselves. But I think it's nice to serve the students, for a couple of reasons: first, I often see people I have or have had in my classes, and it's sort of nice to be able to say "hi" outside of the classroom context. But more importantly, I think that in this largely self-serve culture we live in now, it's just good and pleasant sometimes to have someone do things for you - to do that little bit of help. True, it's not necessary, it's not essential, but it's nice. I think it would be nicer to come rushing in after class to get lunch and have a person fix a plate for you with what you want and hand it to you, rather than have a sign up saying, "Food is in the oven. Help yourself."
I admit it: sometimes when I go out to eat for lunch, it is not because it's faster or necessarily because the food is better than what I'd get at home. It's because it's nice, once in a while, to be able to sit down, look at a list of possibilities, have someone come and ask you what you want, have them bring it to you and then take the plates away for someone else to wash when the meal is done. Sure, eating out is expensive. Sure, not eating out is a way to economize. But sometimes it's nice to be served, rather than always serving yourself.
***
I decided I'm going to pretend I didn't get that announcement about the volunteer thing. For one thing, it's very likely to be raining on Saturday. And for another, I did an awful lot of "volunteering" last week in the service of the profession when I went up to Broken Arrow for those meetings. And I volunteered some yesterday, though I'm not sure how much a faith-based-group volunteer job would count at a public university.
Actually, I thought more about the academic culture (particularly in the sciences) and how it's a little odd, and how maybe it plays badly with some parts of my personality.
There are two things about it in particular that I think influence my periodic frustrations with the job.
First of all, there's very little encouragement given. You're kind of expected to assume that if someone's not beating you over the head and telling you you're an idiot, that means you're doing OK. I think this is actually part of the idea behind why praising your kids much is a bad idea: they come to expect it. All going up through school I heard how good my work was, how clever I was, so on and so forth. And then in the working world, you're kind of expected to continue to believe that your work is good and you are clever without any real outside verification of such.
And for people like me, that's just hard. I have a very hard time looking at anything I've done and declaring it 'good.' I'm a lot better at seeing the flaws than I am at seeing the positive parts of it.
And second, although a lot of lip-service in many areas of the working world (not just academia) is given to Taking Care of Ourselves and Wellness and all that rot, really, deep down, the expectation is that Taking Care of Ourselves is for those times when we're not actively working - vacations, maybe. Also, in academia, there is an odd little culture of martyrdom going on: it starts in grad school, where someone will say, "Oh, man. I was in the lab 30 hours this weekend!" and someone else will counter with "I worked 85 hours last week!" And while a lot of that is pretty heavily exaggerated (and the person MAY have been in lab 65 or 70 hours, but a big chunk of that was spent dinking around waiting for analyses to run or something), there's this general attitude that you are Sacrificing Your Life For Something Bigger, Namely Science.
And that does, to a certain extent, carry over into the professional world. At least in the sciences. (I don't know about other disciplines but I do know when trying to organize a committee meeting once, and I tried to get a Friday meeting time, one of the people in another department remarked, "I don't come in to campus at all on Fridays, ever, not for anything." My response was "Must be nice" and I hung up to call EVERYONE else back to try to find a new time...) There's also sort of an unwritten expectation that for uncoupled or coupled-but-childless people, they're going to be in a lot more hours than the people with kids. That they took the "more research" end of the tradeoff.
I also think because the expectations of Getting Stuff Done are so high, that I don't often step back and realize that I do get a lot done in a day; when I mention what I work on in a given day to friends outside academia, some of them are kind of amazed.
And so it all feeds on itself. And it feeds on the bad parts of my personality: the perfectionistic part, the part that's racked with guilt when she's not working, the part that says You Didn't Have Children So You Have To Make Your Life Contribution In Some Other Way, And Darnit, People Aren't Reading What Papers You've Written.
I think there's also the added stress that I know in the back of my head that my committee is going to be meeting some time in the next month to decide on Full Professor for me, and while this should be the "easy" committee (the one of my peers), I still can't help but feel that there's So Much Else I Could Have and Probably Should Have Done, and that maybe the decision won't be favorable because of that.
And now, I really must go and grade some homeworks...
However, just for the record, here's what I did yesterday:
Wrote (and tested the problems for) three separate biostats take-home tests. (Three different forms to reduce the risk of collaboration. And yes, there are a couple people in that class that I am very careful to see that they get DIFFERENT forms).
Wrote the in-class portion of the test.
Prepped for, and taught my non-majors class. (Prep was minimal as the topic was Biomes, which I could probably teach in my sleep. And very possibly have, at some point in my life.)
Tried to help someone having a Computer Meltdown but didn't get very much done to help them.
Went and served lunch to students at the Wesley Center on campus.
Went and got the crickets for today's lab from the local pet shop. Went to the Wal-Mart and got the lettuce, plastic cups, and rubberbands needed for same. Managed to remember to tell both cashiers that I was using the departmental credit card and so it needed to be sales-tax exempt.
Gave a prospective student a tour of the building and talked about the department.
Went back and helped a second time with the Computer Meltdown, solved it this time.
Got my weekly allergy shots
Taught my evening class.
I even found time to wash my hair and do 30 minutes of piano practice in all that.
I will say that serving at the Wesley Center was shorter than anticipated: we didn't have very many students come in, there were four of it (it was my church's turn to serve; as there are really only three on-campus religious centers we, along with the other "mainline Protestant" churches (and I think the Catholics, too, in the absence of a Newman Center), join up with the Wesley Center. We serve lunch once a semester (they have weekly lunches). I usually volunteer to serve if I'm not in class, because I'm right on campus and can just walk over there. Anyway, the other ladies told me to go ahead and leave at 12:30 because there just were very few people coming in. (The lunch runs from 11 to about 1).
It took some time, yes, but it was kind of nice to do it. For one thing, it's nice to do something where people are actually grateful for what you do. One guy - it made me smile - one of the ladies asked him how he was doing, and he looked down at the plate she had just filled for him, grinned, and said, "I'm doing good, NOW." So I guess that improved his day a little bit. (We served lasagna, which seems to be a really popular choice: lasagna, garlic bread, salad, and cookies.)
We also stay and serve. I guess not all groups that serve do that - some drop off the food and have the students serve themselves. But I think it's nice to serve the students, for a couple of reasons: first, I often see people I have or have had in my classes, and it's sort of nice to be able to say "hi" outside of the classroom context. But more importantly, I think that in this largely self-serve culture we live in now, it's just good and pleasant sometimes to have someone do things for you - to do that little bit of help. True, it's not necessary, it's not essential, but it's nice. I think it would be nicer to come rushing in after class to get lunch and have a person fix a plate for you with what you want and hand it to you, rather than have a sign up saying, "Food is in the oven. Help yourself."
I admit it: sometimes when I go out to eat for lunch, it is not because it's faster or necessarily because the food is better than what I'd get at home. It's because it's nice, once in a while, to be able to sit down, look at a list of possibilities, have someone come and ask you what you want, have them bring it to you and then take the plates away for someone else to wash when the meal is done. Sure, eating out is expensive. Sure, not eating out is a way to economize. But sometimes it's nice to be served, rather than always serving yourself.
***
I decided I'm going to pretend I didn't get that announcement about the volunteer thing. For one thing, it's very likely to be raining on Saturday. And for another, I did an awful lot of "volunteering" last week in the service of the profession when I went up to Broken Arrow for those meetings. And I volunteered some yesterday, though I'm not sure how much a faith-based-group volunteer job would count at a public university.
Actually, I thought more about the academic culture (particularly in the sciences) and how it's a little odd, and how maybe it plays badly with some parts of my personality.
There are two things about it in particular that I think influence my periodic frustrations with the job.
First of all, there's very little encouragement given. You're kind of expected to assume that if someone's not beating you over the head and telling you you're an idiot, that means you're doing OK. I think this is actually part of the idea behind why praising your kids much is a bad idea: they come to expect it. All going up through school I heard how good my work was, how clever I was, so on and so forth. And then in the working world, you're kind of expected to continue to believe that your work is good and you are clever without any real outside verification of such.
And for people like me, that's just hard. I have a very hard time looking at anything I've done and declaring it 'good.' I'm a lot better at seeing the flaws than I am at seeing the positive parts of it.
And second, although a lot of lip-service in many areas of the working world (not just academia) is given to Taking Care of Ourselves and Wellness and all that rot, really, deep down, the expectation is that Taking Care of Ourselves is for those times when we're not actively working - vacations, maybe. Also, in academia, there is an odd little culture of martyrdom going on: it starts in grad school, where someone will say, "Oh, man. I was in the lab 30 hours this weekend!" and someone else will counter with "I worked 85 hours last week!" And while a lot of that is pretty heavily exaggerated (and the person MAY have been in lab 65 or 70 hours, but a big chunk of that was spent dinking around waiting for analyses to run or something), there's this general attitude that you are Sacrificing Your Life For Something Bigger, Namely Science.
And that does, to a certain extent, carry over into the professional world. At least in the sciences. (I don't know about other disciplines but I do know when trying to organize a committee meeting once, and I tried to get a Friday meeting time, one of the people in another department remarked, "I don't come in to campus at all on Fridays, ever, not for anything." My response was "Must be nice" and I hung up to call EVERYONE else back to try to find a new time...) There's also sort of an unwritten expectation that for uncoupled or coupled-but-childless people, they're going to be in a lot more hours than the people with kids. That they took the "more research" end of the tradeoff.
I also think because the expectations of Getting Stuff Done are so high, that I don't often step back and realize that I do get a lot done in a day; when I mention what I work on in a given day to friends outside academia, some of them are kind of amazed.
And so it all feeds on itself. And it feeds on the bad parts of my personality: the perfectionistic part, the part that's racked with guilt when she's not working, the part that says You Didn't Have Children So You Have To Make Your Life Contribution In Some Other Way, And Darnit, People Aren't Reading What Papers You've Written.
I think there's also the added stress that I know in the back of my head that my committee is going to be meeting some time in the next month to decide on Full Professor for me, and while this should be the "easy" committee (the one of my peers), I still can't help but feel that there's So Much Else I Could Have and Probably Should Have Done, and that maybe the decision won't be favorable because of that.
And now, I really must go and grade some homeworks...
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Grass is greener
I'm going through one of those periodic times when I contemplate the other careers I might have contemplated, and because things are "challenging" (to put it politely) at work right now, they all look more appealing than what I'm doing now.
Part of it was, yesterday, at 8 am I had a student come in asking about the exams given Friday in my absence. Did I have them graded yet?
Now, granted, he had no way of knowing I was busy all day Saturday. But what I "heard" at that moment was "WHY don't you have our exams graded yet?"
I admit I was less than cordial about it. I try very hard to have stuff graded and returned on the next class day, but I'd hope this would be seen as a special case where I needed extra time. (Also, I had just realized that I have to write a Biostats exam this week, which takes an enormous amount of time).
And then I had a student stop me in one of my classes of the day, and ask me the definition of something I had just spent 20 minutes going over in detail. The other students looked puzzled - like "why is he asking that now?" - so I don't think it was that I was unclear; this is also someone whose attention seems rarely to be on class material.
And then I got fifteen (or so it seemed) e-mails asking or telling me to do certain things - reports that "need" writing, a volunteer "opportunity" this Saturday (and I was going to take Saturday off to recuperate!) and on, and on.
And I also am dealing with someone who is, to use the politer form of the phrase, an attention hound. Someone who likes to stir the pot because "trouble is a form of attention." And of course, this person gets loads of attention, gets people jumping to his defense when someone "calls" him on his bad behavior.
And it just makes me tired and sad. Because it's the troublemakers who get attention. The nice little cogs who work in the machine, who keep things going, no one ever notices them. (Yes, I admit it: I envy it when people get attention sometimes. Because there are times I could use some attention, or some help, or at least an 'attagirl,' and it's hard - no, impossible - for me to ask for it. I don't know how to ask for it without looking whiny and needy.).
Yesterday I got up at 4:30. I finally got home for the night at 9 pm. Dinner was the few leaves of salad I could rescue from the bottom of the bag. (I had been thinking of running through the Taco Mayo drive-through when I ran an errand late in the day, but when I went by there, there were 12 cars in the drive through and I decided it was so not worth waiting.)
I'm in "survival mode," where what gets done is what HAS to get done, and there's really no time for fun or relaxation. This may keep up (unless I INSIST on taking Saturday and Sunday afternoon off this week) until Thanksgiving.
Part of it was, yesterday, at 8 am I had a student come in asking about the exams given Friday in my absence. Did I have them graded yet?
Now, granted, he had no way of knowing I was busy all day Saturday. But what I "heard" at that moment was "WHY don't you have our exams graded yet?"
I admit I was less than cordial about it. I try very hard to have stuff graded and returned on the next class day, but I'd hope this would be seen as a special case where I needed extra time. (Also, I had just realized that I have to write a Biostats exam this week, which takes an enormous amount of time).
And then I had a student stop me in one of my classes of the day, and ask me the definition of something I had just spent 20 minutes going over in detail. The other students looked puzzled - like "why is he asking that now?" - so I don't think it was that I was unclear; this is also someone whose attention seems rarely to be on class material.
And then I got fifteen (or so it seemed) e-mails asking or telling me to do certain things - reports that "need" writing, a volunteer "opportunity" this Saturday (and I was going to take Saturday off to recuperate!) and on, and on.
And I also am dealing with someone who is, to use the politer form of the phrase, an attention hound. Someone who likes to stir the pot because "trouble is a form of attention." And of course, this person gets loads of attention, gets people jumping to his defense when someone "calls" him on his bad behavior.
And it just makes me tired and sad. Because it's the troublemakers who get attention. The nice little cogs who work in the machine, who keep things going, no one ever notices them. (Yes, I admit it: I envy it when people get attention sometimes. Because there are times I could use some attention, or some help, or at least an 'attagirl,' and it's hard - no, impossible - for me to ask for it. I don't know how to ask for it without looking whiny and needy.).
Yesterday I got up at 4:30. I finally got home for the night at 9 pm. Dinner was the few leaves of salad I could rescue from the bottom of the bag. (I had been thinking of running through the Taco Mayo drive-through when I ran an errand late in the day, but when I went by there, there were 12 cars in the drive through and I decided it was so not worth waiting.)
I'm in "survival mode," where what gets done is what HAS to get done, and there's really no time for fun or relaxation. This may keep up (unless I INSIST on taking Saturday and Sunday afternoon off this week) until Thanksgiving.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Learning from mysteries
It's interesting how trains of thought proceed. I often get pushed to look something up, or read something, based on something else I've seen.
Last night, I was flipping through a back issue (Sept./Oct. 2010) of Piecework. This is one of those magazines that varies for me in interest from issue to issue; it seems just as I've decided after a run of one or two where the main focus is on (say) bridalwear through the ages that I'm going to drop it, then an issue comes that has an article on one of my personal areas of interest. (The most recent issue has an article on Herdwick sheep and the Beatrix Potter connection).
This issue (you can see the cover and contents here) had some interesting things - a pair of Irish-style gloves, the pattern for which could be adapted so that an actor could knit on them on stage (the gloves in question being originally developed for a production of "Dancing at Lughnasa").
(Actually, I should sit down and re-read the whole issue; I think it came at a time when I was busy and didn't really give it much attention. There's also an article on needlework in Jane Austen's time)
But what attracted my attention this time was something I had flipped past previously: the question of "What would Miss Marple knit?"
And it included a shawl pattern - actually, a reprint from Weldon's.
I had kind of bypassed it before - I bought a couple of the old Weldon's Magazine reprints when Interweave had them on a very good closeout, but never made anything from them, in fact, mainly intended to keep them just to look at. They don't work that well as pattern books for modern knitters for several reasons: first and foremost, many of the garments are styles we would not wear now, unless as part of a play or re-enactment. And second, there is no gauge specified, the needle sizes are the "old British" sizing, which is both different from modern US and metric sizing (though there are conversion charts somewhere), and there are usually only weights, and not yardages, of yarn specified. (And I think much better in terms of yardage than in weight). And of course, the yarns are all ones that haven't been made for 70-100 years, so you have to try to suss out equivalents. (Again, there are places online that can help). Finally, the terminology used in the patterns is often different than modern terminology.
I think the first time I saw the pattern I just bypassed it as "another somewhat incomprehensible old Weldon's pattern." But when I looked at the article again last night, I realized: hey, this pattern DOES make sense to me. I see how it works. It would be fun to knit.
I love "historic" patterns. One of my favorite knitting books is Nancy Bush's "Knitting Vintage Socks," because of the tie-in with Weldon. I love the feeling of reaching back over the years, and as I've said before, sort of "shaking hands" with some (usually unknown) knitter from the past who either developed the pattern, or at least wrote it down.
And then I realized: wait, that Noro Silk Garden sock yarn you have? That you don't have a pattern in mind for? It would work here. Even better, because it's a fairly simple shawl pattern (it's knit corner-to-corner, and is mainly stockinette with regularly spaced eyelet bands). And I'm guessing the original pattern was written for a sportweight, but it doesn't matter as much with a shawl, it's just a bit bigger or smaller or you block it up to the size you want.
And I liked the idea. The Weldon's pattern is ca. 1930, which would mean Miss Marple COULD have knit it (if she were, you know, a real person). I don't know that Miss Marple would have used a stripey variegated yarn (all I seem to remember reading of her knitting was that it was either "soft, cream-coloured wool" or "pale blue wool").
I also realized that most of what I knew of Miss Marple was from seeing the (admittedly excellent) PBS adaptations of the stories. And so this is where the trail begins.
I pulled my copy of "Miss Marple Stories" (I think it was free from Folio when I bought something else - maybe the Poirot short stories three-book set). And I started reading. And it started with some of the earliest appearances of Miss Marple; the "Tuesday Night Club" stories, where a group of people gather and share "unsolved" crimes (and, of course, Miss Marple figures them out).
There was one that contained two new concepts to me. One of the women in the story was described as "stout" and it was said she was "banting" to try to reduce. Well, from context, I assumed "banting" was some form of diet.
And here's where my mind went: I knew that Frederick Banting (along with Charles Best) was the discoverer of insulin, so maybe there was a diet named after him, and maybe it was a special diet for diabetics but that made other people lose weight. (My great-grandfather - my dad's mom's father - had been a diabetic late in his life and people tell me he had to eat a very restricted diet, this being the years before medications were available).
But no - it's still a very low-carbohydrate diet, sort of a Ur-Atkins plan, but it's named for a different Banting. William Banting (who actually was related to Frederick), was a formerly-fat man who lost a great deal of weight on a low carbohydrate diet, and apparently wrote a Letter to the public promoting it.
(I will observe, that the woman who was ultimately the victim in the case told her friend: "If the good Lord meant you to be stout, you should not worry about it" and proposed that banting would ruin her friend's health. I guess that's kind of how I feel: I mean, there are steps you can take to safeguard your health. But if being "slim" according to current fashion means eating egg-white omelettes and never getting to taste bread, I think I'll opt for being stout. Which is actually a more comforting descriptive term to me than "fat" is; "stout" seems to carry with it - to me at least - the connotation of robust good health, which I do, in fact, enjoy. Beatrix Potter was also described as "stout" later on in her life)
The other thing I was unfamiliar with was the concept of drinking "A bowl of corn-flour" before bed. I assume corn flour is what we in the U.S. call cornstarch - I've seen some British cookbooks note that similarity. I am guessing "a bowl of corn-flour" is kind of akin to what's called "atole" or "maizena" in Mexico: a beverage made from corn. (I've never had it so I don't know what it's like). It seems a strange thing to drink to settle an upset stomach (that was the context given), but who knows.
It surprises me how much you can learn from even a 'simple' detective story. I'm sure Christie, when she was writing it, had no intention of capturing all these small odd bits of Life Between the Wars in Britain...I suppose a lot of writers like that, especially those who wrote for the magazines (I assume that's how Christie's stories were originally published) intended for them to be largely ephemeral, a source of income for the writer and entertainment for the readers and little more. But I do find those old stories fascinating for the "background" or the settings as much as for the stories,just as I look hard at the dresses and interiors in old movies that were made during (and set in what was then "contemporary" times) the 1930s and 1940s.
So, anyway, at some point I want to knit the Weldon's shawl. I have too many other projects going to think of it now, but perhaps that will be my take-along-over-Thanksgiving-break project, as it would be fairly portable and fairly simple.
Last night, I was flipping through a back issue (Sept./Oct. 2010) of Piecework. This is one of those magazines that varies for me in interest from issue to issue; it seems just as I've decided after a run of one or two where the main focus is on (say) bridalwear through the ages that I'm going to drop it, then an issue comes that has an article on one of my personal areas of interest. (The most recent issue has an article on Herdwick sheep and the Beatrix Potter connection).
This issue (you can see the cover and contents here) had some interesting things - a pair of Irish-style gloves, the pattern for which could be adapted so that an actor could knit on them on stage (the gloves in question being originally developed for a production of "Dancing at Lughnasa").
(Actually, I should sit down and re-read the whole issue; I think it came at a time when I was busy and didn't really give it much attention. There's also an article on needlework in Jane Austen's time)
But what attracted my attention this time was something I had flipped past previously: the question of "What would Miss Marple knit?"
And it included a shawl pattern - actually, a reprint from Weldon's.
I had kind of bypassed it before - I bought a couple of the old Weldon's Magazine reprints when Interweave had them on a very good closeout, but never made anything from them, in fact, mainly intended to keep them just to look at. They don't work that well as pattern books for modern knitters for several reasons: first and foremost, many of the garments are styles we would not wear now, unless as part of a play or re-enactment. And second, there is no gauge specified, the needle sizes are the "old British" sizing, which is both different from modern US and metric sizing (though there are conversion charts somewhere), and there are usually only weights, and not yardages, of yarn specified. (And I think much better in terms of yardage than in weight). And of course, the yarns are all ones that haven't been made for 70-100 years, so you have to try to suss out equivalents. (Again, there are places online that can help). Finally, the terminology used in the patterns is often different than modern terminology.
I think the first time I saw the pattern I just bypassed it as "another somewhat incomprehensible old Weldon's pattern." But when I looked at the article again last night, I realized: hey, this pattern DOES make sense to me. I see how it works. It would be fun to knit.
I love "historic" patterns. One of my favorite knitting books is Nancy Bush's "Knitting Vintage Socks," because of the tie-in with Weldon. I love the feeling of reaching back over the years, and as I've said before, sort of "shaking hands" with some (usually unknown) knitter from the past who either developed the pattern, or at least wrote it down.
And then I realized: wait, that Noro Silk Garden sock yarn you have? That you don't have a pattern in mind for? It would work here. Even better, because it's a fairly simple shawl pattern (it's knit corner-to-corner, and is mainly stockinette with regularly spaced eyelet bands). And I'm guessing the original pattern was written for a sportweight, but it doesn't matter as much with a shawl, it's just a bit bigger or smaller or you block it up to the size you want.
And I liked the idea. The Weldon's pattern is ca. 1930, which would mean Miss Marple COULD have knit it (if she were, you know, a real person). I don't know that Miss Marple would have used a stripey variegated yarn (all I seem to remember reading of her knitting was that it was either "soft, cream-coloured wool" or "pale blue wool").
I also realized that most of what I knew of Miss Marple was from seeing the (admittedly excellent) PBS adaptations of the stories. And so this is where the trail begins.
I pulled my copy of "Miss Marple Stories" (I think it was free from Folio when I bought something else - maybe the Poirot short stories three-book set). And I started reading. And it started with some of the earliest appearances of Miss Marple; the "Tuesday Night Club" stories, where a group of people gather and share "unsolved" crimes (and, of course, Miss Marple figures them out).
There was one that contained two new concepts to me. One of the women in the story was described as "stout" and it was said she was "banting" to try to reduce. Well, from context, I assumed "banting" was some form of diet.
And here's where my mind went: I knew that Frederick Banting (along with Charles Best) was the discoverer of insulin, so maybe there was a diet named after him, and maybe it was a special diet for diabetics but that made other people lose weight. (My great-grandfather - my dad's mom's father - had been a diabetic late in his life and people tell me he had to eat a very restricted diet, this being the years before medications were available).
But no - it's still a very low-carbohydrate diet, sort of a Ur-Atkins plan, but it's named for a different Banting. William Banting (who actually was related to Frederick), was a formerly-fat man who lost a great deal of weight on a low carbohydrate diet, and apparently wrote a Letter to the public promoting it.
(I will observe, that the woman who was ultimately the victim in the case told her friend: "If the good Lord meant you to be stout, you should not worry about it" and proposed that banting would ruin her friend's health. I guess that's kind of how I feel: I mean, there are steps you can take to safeguard your health. But if being "slim" according to current fashion means eating egg-white omelettes and never getting to taste bread, I think I'll opt for being stout. Which is actually a more comforting descriptive term to me than "fat" is; "stout" seems to carry with it - to me at least - the connotation of robust good health, which I do, in fact, enjoy. Beatrix Potter was also described as "stout" later on in her life)
The other thing I was unfamiliar with was the concept of drinking "A bowl of corn-flour" before bed. I assume corn flour is what we in the U.S. call cornstarch - I've seen some British cookbooks note that similarity. I am guessing "a bowl of corn-flour" is kind of akin to what's called "atole" or "maizena" in Mexico: a beverage made from corn. (I've never had it so I don't know what it's like). It seems a strange thing to drink to settle an upset stomach (that was the context given), but who knows.
It surprises me how much you can learn from even a 'simple' detective story. I'm sure Christie, when she was writing it, had no intention of capturing all these small odd bits of Life Between the Wars in Britain...I suppose a lot of writers like that, especially those who wrote for the magazines (I assume that's how Christie's stories were originally published) intended for them to be largely ephemeral, a source of income for the writer and entertainment for the readers and little more. But I do find those old stories fascinating for the "background" or the settings as much as for the stories,just as I look hard at the dresses and interiors in old movies that were made during (and set in what was then "contemporary" times) the 1930s and 1940s.
So, anyway, at some point I want to knit the Weldon's shawl. I have too many other projects going to think of it now, but perhaps that will be my take-along-over-Thanksgiving-break project, as it would be fairly portable and fairly simple.
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