A few more random observations

  • I’m reading two sets of archives at the same time (Dr Medusa’s and KulturFluff, and how I regret Frenchie Foo having disappeared her whole blog). I should sync them up, because one is starting the summer and the other is writing about Thanksgiving, and it’s making my head spin.
  • That’s okay because it makes me go back to work.
  • Students. Oy. I was assigned a class at the eleventh hour, so made sure that for the first few weeks, all readings were available online, since there was no way the bookstore would get books in for the first week. But this week we’re starting to read Actual Real Books. I showed everyone the books in the first week of classes, reminded them periodically about buying books, have posted announcements on the electronic course thingy, etc. And now students are “confused” and don’t know what they’re supposed to read.
  • Like heu mihi, I’m reading Malory. In this case, re-reading. There is some serious timeline-slippage in the Book of Tristram, which I’m only now picking up on. Hmmmmm.
  • Is February over yet? I’m not sure I can take another week of this weather. I appreciate the lengthening days; they’re great. But I have actually started wishing for snow (yes, I, the desert creature who spends the winter imagining she’s an iguana) in preference to any more freezing rain. I hate freezing rain. (I do love the meteorologists’ abbreviation fzdz for freezing drizzle, however.)
  • Maybe I should have done these bullets as a Fortunately/Unfortunately series, but I’m too lazy and the items are too random.

RBO February

  • Dr Medusa’s archives are still available. Yum, more back-in-the-day procrastinatory/reward reading. http://professionalmirror.blogspot.com/
  • I seem to have some very-low-grade sinus something going on. Ugh. I don’t feel awful, but I don’t feel particularly well, either. This along with an uptick in insomnia and low-grade gut stuff > not getting much done > feeling guilty and anxious > more insomnia. Rinse and repeat.
  • I’ve been putting off responding to one of those university program requests for info about how a particular student is doing until a paper was due in that class, last night. Looked at the online course thingamajig this morning: particular student didn’t turn in the paper. Okay, sorry but you are not going to get a good report, dude/tte! But maybe your program will make you shape up.
  • My friend Lady Maud wrote a really good poem. It’s usually hard, as a professor of literature, to have friends show you creative writing they’ve done. The supportive friend cannot easily turn off the training in lit crit. But it is an absolute joy to be able to tell a friend, truly, that she has created something remarkable.
  • The Overwhelm Monster and House Maintenance Monster are ganging up on me, with assistance from Wintry Sinus Whininess and a lot of gloomy grey days. I don’t so much mind grey with rain (as a west coast native, I think “proper winter weather!”) but sub-freezing grey does me in.
  • But really, I have nothing much to complain of. My health problems are just the usual low-grade crud, Sir John is back to normal after a couple of changes of antibiotics, the cats are fine, my students are nice, it’s a wonderful life. I think I just want it to be not-February. Two more weeks, and we’ll be there.

Ups and downs

This morning’s forecast is cheerful with intermittent grumpy.

Looking up: it’s the weekend, so no driving, or at least no farther than the gym. I found my missing stripy scarf, buried in the guest bed. I think I must have napped there, unwound it when I got hot, and forgot to look for it when I awakened. (How I would love to think of this as a good omen for a happy or at least peaceful outcome for the other things making me grumpy last week.) I still don’t have any significant grading to do. I’ve worked through about one quarter of our last (? please let it be last) sweep through the translation to tighten phrasing and improve style. There’s a bit of sunlight today to supplement my anti-SAD light. I had quite a nice note from my oldest friend, in reply to birthday wishes. We have an up-and-down relationship, being very different sorts of people, but there’s a lot to be said for knowing someone literally all your life even if you don’t always get along. (This is probably the sort of relationship many people have with their siblings.) Due to more weather, I will probably be able to stay at home at least one day next week when I would otherwise be driving to campus.

Grumps: would you believe, I’m unhappy because there is not enough snow in the forecast? Yesterday it looked like we’d have significant snow during the Monday morning commute, such that I would feel justified in having class online again, even if the university opened. Today, that weather band has shifted north, so I will probably have to tackle the drive, classes, and a committee meeting on Monday, after all. On topics other than weather/climate, I am fretful because I’ve had to work on the translation instead of on a conference paper or on the long-delayed last set of MMP revisions (and have recently discovered a 2018 book that I now ought to cite in that paper, sigh, this is why one should put everything aside and do revisions ASAP instead of trying not to lose momentum on all one’s OTHER on-going projects). I’ve had a few nights of poor-quality sleep, despite spending suitable amounts of time in bed. The furnace keeps popping on just as I’m dropping off; I can sleep through it if I’m properly asleep, but the noise wakes me if I’m at a delicate moment in the falling-asleep effort.

But I have a working furnace (actually, two), an anti-SAD light, lots of tea, a new hot water bottle, and a couple of cats who sometimes sit on me (Glendower does not believe hoo-mans make good cat beds), so I’m well-equipped for Arctic blasts and an effort to move on to new/old/different writing projects.

There and back again

Any time now I’m going to go over to TLQ and post some session goals. As soon as I’m no longer whacking the TRQ moles. I got up at 6:30, fed cats, unpacked dirty clothes, put in a load of laundry, looked things up in order to fill in missing bits on two syllabuses so I could send them in to be copied in time for Monday classes, made and ate breakfast, sent more work e-mail, tried to fix a clogged sink, put it all back together and asked Sir John to call the plumber, did a bit more unpacking, had lunch, gave the cats more food, let in the cleaner and explained about the sink and the plumber, looked up more stuff and sent more work e-mail, let in the plumber and showed him the sink and the pipes in the basement, wrote a belated Christmas thank-you, sent more work e-mail, wrote checks to the plumber and the cleaner, made a cup of tea, and hello! Here I am.

I ought to go to the gym and I really do not want to. I feel like I’ve been running around since 6:30 getting stuff done on not enough sleep and I should get to be done now please thank you.

24 hours ago I was on a plane. Yesterday when I thought it was the time it is now, I was hanging around Heathrow. It’s hard to believe that yesterday morning I had breakfast at the Giraffe World Kitchen (World Giraffe Kitchen?) near Victoria Station. And that although it was chilly, with a wind that would cut through you, nonetheless it seemed like spring, with flowers in boxes and hanging baskets. We even saw flowering trees in Wimbledon on Sunday.

This is why I’m having trouble contemplating goals for the next twelve weeks. I need to catch up to myself.

Random thoughts

  • I don’t like the two matching green pens I found in my desk drawer; they have too thick a line, and the ink smudges easily. Probably I ought to throw them out. But I may leave them in the department office to see if anyone wants to adopt them. Some people like thick lines, or else why would there be 0.7 mm tips?
  • However, in my attempts to color with them, I have established that I need a new and different green felt tip pen. No, really, I need it. A sort of pine green, fine tip. Perfect for flower stems and leaf borders.
  • Here’s someone who seems to have similar feelings to mine about gardens: http://gritsday.blogspot.com/2007/04/success-in-garden.html. But this is in England, 2007. If her gardener is even still in business, he’s not likely to come here. Maybe I shouldn’t spend so much time living in the past.
  • For another 36 hours or so, I have no grading to do. This is very strange and makes me feel unmoored.
  • OTOH, I really must get on with a complicated piece of writing I’m working on. That ought to be enough to anchor me.
  • Or I could feel anxious about the need to book flights and some other elements of travel.
  • I wonder what it’s like not to have anything hanging over one’s head to feel anxious about. If I achieved that state, would I start getting anxious about something unbelievably trivial, just because I’m used to having some nagging little worry in my head? Or would I go set up a jigsaw puzzle, visit a bookstore or the library, bake cookies, and settle into a hot bath with a glass of sherry and a novel at some mid-point of the day? (In other words, indulge in my exceedingly tame version of wild debauchery.)
  • Perhaps I should move my desk for the winter. In seasons when there are leaves on trees, I like looking out the window into the treetops. When I’m looking at branches either bare or with a few miserable dead leaves stubbornly clinging, and houses on the other side of the alley, I’m not so happy with the view. I wonder where Sir John’s painting of California foothills (golden hills, olive green live oaks) has got to. No doubt wrapped up and in storage. I’d happily stare at that all winter if I could find it.

My desk drawer

My desk has a keyboard shelf, a shelf to put a computer tower, and one single small drawer. I sat down this morning, looked at the way that drawer just barely closed, and decided the time had come to clean it out.

Contents:

  • Desk items: 1 pair scissors, 1 magnifying glass, 1 pencil sharpener, 1 intact ruler (dating to my parents’ house), 1 broken ruler (a more recent acquisition, now in the waste basket).
  • Writing implements 1, pencils: 3 mechanical pencils, 2 wood pencils, 3 colored wood pencils, 1 multi-color swap-the-tip pencil that I’ve had for about 25 years (eek), 3 boxes of refill leads for the mechanical pencils. All of these are 0.5 mm.
  • Writing implements 2, pens: 3 blue pens, 10 black pens, 1 fountain pen, 15 colored pens (1 pink, 3 red, 5 purple, 3 teal or turquoise, 3 green).  I think many of the colored pens date to when I collected student work on paper and marked it in colored ink. Now I do all my grading electronically. I have enough coloring books; I should use up my pens in them. Only one of these pens did not work and thus was thrown out.
  • Erasers: 6, all good white ones, 2 still in their wrappers.
  • Electronic storage: 3 camera cards, 4 flash drives, 1 SIM card.
  • Paper clips: a large handful. Not counted. They belong somewhere else. Sometimes I slip one into the drawer temporarily, before putting them away. Um. I put the plastic-coated ones where they belong, and the plain metal ones in a bag to take to school where I will release them into the general office supplies.
  • Sticky notes. 1 3″ square pad, 1 1×1.5″ pad, 6 pads of slips. These also belong somewhere else. I probably have a lifetime supply of sticky notes now. Note to self: admire office supplies with your eyes. You do not need to buy more.
  • Miscellaneous: 1 metal tape measure (adopted from my dad who knows how long ago). Red Cross first aid pin. Chapstick. Glasses cleaning cloth. 2 spare buttons that belong to clothing I still own (these also belong somewhere else). Safe deposit key. 2 i.d.s for Significant Libraries, one US, one British. 1 luggage tag. 1 carabiner clip. 5 hairpins.
  • Totally do not belong here: 3 bandaids. 2 pieces of candy (I ate the ginger chew and threw out the butterscotch). 2 airline packets of salt/pepper (also tossed). 1 small plastic-wrapped spork. 2 dead watches.

Except for the items I threw out or put away properly, all these things are still spread out atop my desk. I’m thinking about what to put back in the drawer. The number of pens does not seem excessive in and of itself, particularly for an English professor who has various notebooks that she actually writes in. It is, however, definitely excessive for this small drawer. I could pick out representative pens to keep in the drawer to use up, and stash the rest with other supplies (like the paper clips) so I could find them when I needed another pen. Alternatively, I could keep the ones I’m most likely to use and release the others into the TA offices at school. But I think I’ll keep them. My nature abhors a vacuum; if I feel that I have a limited number of pens around, I’m likely to start buying more, whereas if I remember there’s a stash, I have a better chance of behaving myself next time I’m in Office Despot.

Things I have done on a snow day

  • Slept till 8:00.
  • De-iced the bird feeders.
  • Put up an online assignment and dealt with some other online stuff for classes.
  • Added nearly 1000 words to the research document I am working on. Not new words. Old words whose time has come.
  • Edited those words and some others.
  • Graded a complete set of very short papers that didn’t need a lot of attention.
  • Posted at TLQ.
  • Finished and submitted a set of responses for program review.
  • Skulked indoors all day, apart from de-icing the bird feeders, attempting to de-ice some bushes, and taking a picture of damage to the house. I hear exercise is a good thing . . .
  • Sent the picture to our handyman to see if it’s something he can fix.
  • Made a Christmas wish list, mostly books.

Things I expect to do now:

  • Cook dinner.
  • Read a book. I have been reading some extremely fluffy cozy mysteries by Rhys Bowen. The “Royal Spyness” series is like the Mitfords on helium, with a dash of Peter Wimsey doing his silly-ass routine.
  • Stretch.

Thankful for a 30-year conversation

Thirty-something years ago, I started graduate school. In the first week of classes, maybe even the first day, I met a fantastically glamorous, vivacious, self-assured woman sporting bright red lipstick and an enormous amethyst ring. I wanted to be her friend, if she’d have me.

Apparently I was the intellectually intimidating powerhouse who spoke seldom but to devastating effect [= terrified, determined not to put my foot in my mouth, rushed off to the library to look up anything I didn’t know, then tried to speak intelligently about it next time, thus perpetually feeling behind the conversation, = terrified], whom she wanted for a friend, if I’d have her.

It’s funny now to think that we met so long ago, because then we were actively working on leaving our pasts behind, and creating our new, Ivy-educated grown-up selves. But we were still our old selves! We were both engaged to old boyfriends (for a little bit longer) and had not yet got involved with, or in her case even met, the Grad School Boyfriend/First Husband. We found we had the same position in our family-of-origin constellation. Our difficult mothers were both still alive. “Home” was where it had always been, the same parental house. Our adult selves were emerging, but many formative experiences were still ahead of us. Through the grad school years, we shared a lot of them in real time.

Over the months, then decades, we’ve talked repeatedly about families, jobs, men, clothes, self-presentation, therapy, etiquette, children (whether, when, how, with whom, raising and teaching thereof), parents, changing self-perception, getting older, friends, plans, roots and connections (making, keeping, breaking), writing, teaching, puzzles and games literal and psychological, cats, academia, changing careers (whether, to what, how), illness, death, divorce, new relationships, inspiration, in-laws, travel, religion, exercise, cooking, shopping, transformations. Everything important, really. We used to meet over breakfast, or for coffee and a muffin. Now we mostly communicate by e-mail, and occasionally catch up on the phone, when we restore our sense of the other’s physical voice, breathing life into the written “voice” of our messages. I don’t know where the years have gone. But the person who was once new, who knew nothing of my past and could accept me as the person I wanted to be, now knows everything important about me. She is my witness.

Saturday morning

  • Wake at 0640 because Basement Cat feels yowly; pull on clothes, go down with BC, let him lick out Glendower’s bowl because Glendower finished his food last night. Make tea.
  • Observe that it is snowing. I had thought I might sweep up some leaves today. Never mind.
  • Sit in front of light box working through Dead Languages, then reading a chunk of a less-dead chronicle.
  • Feed cats.
  • Start cooking my favorite breakfast. We’re out of spinach, but have leftover cooked chard. Cut that up and heat it in the microwave, add the rice, beat two eggs and pour the liquid over the rice and chard. This looks odd. Oh! I should have just broken the eggs into the pan. Did chopping the chard remind me of cutting up potatoes, so I thought I was making a tortilla española? Well, it’s a frittata now. MORE TEA.
  • Cut up cotton gauze for brushing cats’ teeth. Brush cat teeth.
  • Head back to study with tea, to tackle the day’s thrashing exercise. Write-grade-plan/book travel-pay bills-write-grade etc. If I Write First, then I can at least try to soothe the deadlinedeadlinedeadline voices with assurances that I’m working on it.
  • So, as exercise in procrastination, write blog post. It’s a good thing I didn’t commit to daily blogging during November. Still, I’m doing more than I usually do, so let that be a lesson in not letting the best be the enemy of the good.
  • More internet procrastination: read the winter weather prediction, for a colder-than-normal winter here.
  • Draw curtains and turn light box back on. La la la not listening to anyone but my friends the iguanas. It’s always the same weather inside this nice iguana tank.

Thrashing

I’ve written before about thrashing, or at least referred to it. Today I am having trouble getting started on anything because there are so many things that need attention, and even writing them down (so I don’t have to keep them in active memory) isn’t helping. Even thinking about starting something (anything) prompts my brain to say “No! This other thing!” I’ve done a couple of relatively limited things with truly immediate deadlines, but now I’m starting on circuit of “must grade/write/work out/pay bills,” with a side of “Work out or swim? Grade old essays or new ones?”

And now that I’ve got this far, I remember the set of proofs that are due tomorrow, so I guess there’s another limited thing with immediate deadline that I can tackle. Unfortunately, that just sets off alarms about “long term goals, health and exercise, write first, graaaaading.”

Today also comes with the added annoyance of technical trouble with my personal e-mail. It’s past time to switch to a new provider, but I’ve been trying to put this off till after the end of the semester. Further, I know my brothers are not going to be able to remember the new one; sometime in all the uproar about my dad last year, it became clear that one of them had been trying to update me via an address that had been defunct for at least five years.

I wish my inner nag would just shut up.