Thursday, September 24, 2009

So hungry, seriously.

Today my day started as I arose at 6 a.m. Okay, 6:10 a.m., because I did push the snooze button and then put my cell phone under my pillow. But then, I was up, which is how you spell "too damn early" in my language. I was at school at 7:30 a.m., which, on the one hand, hello, park wherever you want to, and go ahead and get started on your work with no one bothering you. On the other hand, of course, there's, why the hell am I at work so damn early? Because I got up at 6, that's why. Okay, 6:10.

I bought a bagel on the way to work and also a bagel for lunch. Just a bagel, no filling. Also, there was an Asian pear in my purse. So let's talk about what that paltry amount of food was supposed to fuel:
  • higher mathematics (figuring out what 5% of the faculty FTE is, then what proportion of that is supposed to be fixed reassigned time allotments and what is supposed to be flexible. Seriously, I broke out in a sweat.)
  • high-stakes arguments (discussions with members of the administration about all sorts of issues, in behalf of the faculty)
  • high-speed draft-reading
  • teaching
  • discussion with other dept., the ones who fund the student literary magazine--hey! they're all out of money!
  • discussion with some faculty about the seriously demoralizing conditions in their academic unit
  • prepping 10 lbs. of tomatoes for roasting
  • roasting the tomatoes
  • going out for a literary event.
As I left work, pretty bummed after the conversation with the demoralized faculty, I said to my office mate, "I need some french fries," to which he replied somewhat ungallantly, "They'll go straight to your hips." I said, "Bleep that." Because, the people, I totally did need some french fries. My hips needed some french fries.

So, after the literary event, I had some. And a Coke. And now, you may observe me and my hips while we collapse.


  1. How delicious were the fries? How lovely the literary event? You' are one high-powered, bagel-eatin' mama. I hope your day tomorrow involves fewer bagels and fewer meetings.

  2. Seriously. What is it with autumn and food? Is it the inner squirrel? Is ripeness all?

    (BTW, my fruit man will be bringing a box of tomatoes for roasting when he comes with the orchard deliveries this weekend.)

  3. I totally forgot my intended comments after reading Emma J's comment--where do I get a fruit man?

    word verif: subduo--sandwich or subversive?

  4. A mistake to say my fruit man, more correctly he is the fruit man. And everyone ought to have one.

    Schoolteacher by day, beekeeper, friend to a handful of orchardists in Washington state, he gathers orders from the small towns around Portland and out toward the coast and then makes a stop in each town Saturday morning to early aternoon with our boxes of fruit. Nice?

  5. this is how I feel when I am out my door at 7 am with a yogurt and bag of pretzels--There is no way I'm gonna make it.

  6. I need some french fries. Seriously. My hips need them. They are saying, Fries? Coke? Now?



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