Plans.

A couple of nights ago, I happened upon a slew of the calmed-down, basic-cable versions of Sex in the City. For those of you who remember it, it was right after Aidan and Carrie and Big and Natasha all had their sad roundelay, and subsequently Carrie regretted it, and Charlotte and Trey were trying to be together and trying to have a baby, etc. I fell into these episodes like they were my best friend, walking down the street when I least expected her, and we went to get Cokes and french fries (this would have happened a long time ago, before there was such a thing as carbs and therefore we could eat what we wanted).  I watched Carrie consider important narcissistic items whilst wearing cosmic print shortalls with a chiffon shirt over them. And prancing in her crazy shoes, which, in one of the slew of episodes I watched, she also got mugged for. Etcetera and so on, except I still kind of liked her, as I always did.

Yes, there I lay on the bed, letting those stories just come at me, as if I had nothing better to do, such as

• make my actual, as opposed to my theoretical, syllabi
• write the reports I just dropped mid-bullet point back when the semester skidded to a halt and I waltzed off to a wedding and then Christmas
• I don't know, iron my white shirts?
• revise my manuscript, maybe?
• put together my travel request
• stop all my online shopping already
• etc.

Tomorrow, I need to make progress on several of the items on this list. Also, and perhaps contradictorily, I would like to be able to drop everything if my son wants to go get a burrito, because he's moving across America soon, and how many more burritos are in my future, at least burritos consumed with my son? Not that many, you guys. My burrito-eating days, with my son, are numbered, because mortality, that's why. Ergo I should be able to drop my syllabi in favor of a burrito. Syllabi are eternal, in that they will always be with us, but lunch dates with children are not. They are finite. I feel this argument is becoming circular. Moving on:

Also, I want to work out. And there are housekeeping things that could take up my time forever, such as putting the sheets back on the downstairs beds, and deciding once and for all what things I can put or give away so that there are no more clothes lying around unhoused in my bedroom. You know, general it's-the-new-year stuff. Like: NO MORE! of whatever it is there's too much of. 

Because I don't have anywhere to go tomorrow except possibly to Burrito Town, I can theoretically really get a lot of things done. So that's my plan: move through the list and check them off/strike them through. Until I have a veritable tiger of a list, i.e., striped (with strikethroughs, do you see the picture I am conjuring? with my words?). At least a tiny little part of me suspects that there may be some languor and dillydallying, though. Languor and dillydallying are my specialties.

I wish there was someone in my life who would come up to my apartment and cook me a steak, bloody, to strengthen my blood, and smack me and say Snap out of it!


That's right, tonight it was Moonstruck on TV. Classic of straightening out your life by having, then changing, your plans.

Errands & a plan.

I am big on the idea of a plan, as readers of this blog may remember. I am also a believer in the notion of a routine. It's like a mini-, quasi-religion with me, and especially in the summer time.

The following is a reenactment of my mental state, come summertime:

Me, speaking to myself, silently. In my brain: Okay. First of all, what is my plan? What are my goals? How many weeks are there in the summer? How many have I already spent doing nothing, or finishing my grades, or taking naps? Speaking of naps: I want a nap to be a part of my routine. Like, daily? Maybe daily is too much. A 45 minute nap wouldn't be too much. Also, I want to work out. Beginning of the day? end of the day? Why am I thinking about working out, when the most important thing of allll is writing? I want to write every day. Even a little bit every day. How much is a little bit? Is 45 minutes a day too little? That seems like too little for the most important thing of alllll. Okay, 3 hours. Every day, three hours, or sometimes a little less. So: when should I write and when should I work out? Also, I want to cook every day. Also, I want to organize all my books.

It gets a little crazy up in there.

One of my plans/goals/agendas for coming down to talk to my son about his plans/goals/agendas. Not that he needs my help, realistically. I just feel better knowing everyone's plans/goals/agendas. Seriously: like everyone's.

Reenactment of my mental state about everyone's plans/goals/agendas:

Me, speaking to myself, silently. In my brain: I just want to know everyone's plans/goals/agendas. It will help me sleep at night. Is this so much to ask? (insert extra question marks, for emphasis.)

As you can imagine, I don't get nearly the amount of plans/goals/agendas, submitted for my database, as I would like. But it's also true that, from time to time, I have to remind myself that, while a certain amount of planning and goal-setting and agenda-making is useful and healthy, a lot more flexibility, looseness, roll-with-it ease is even more useful and more healthy.

Today we walked around Tempe Town Lake, where we saw a heron, a bunch of ducks and duck-like birds as well as what seemed like an enormous hawk flying overhead. Also, we got buzzed by a rogue ensemble of irritated bees, which caused us to flee from a shelter where we had been briefly sitting. We--seriously--called the cops on these insects, because my son, no bee-hater, informed me that there is some situation with the bees at ASU. I wasn't quite clear on this, but the dispatcher didn't seem to think this was a joke. A few minutes after the call, some officials came by to check the bee situation out. We weren't nearby, so I can't report what the discussion was like, but I imagine a little something like this:

Reenactment of the bee cops, examining the bee situation:

Bee cops, talking to each other: These bees seem pissed. Better back away. I'm putting up the 'Angry Bees: Beware!' sign right...here. [flees]

I realize I'm talking a lot about bees. Our encounter was actually quite brief. But we took another route, we retraced our steps across the bridge. We threw some stones into the lake. And our day ended up pretty great, with sandwiches and, later, really delicious Middle Eastern food, and stories at bedtime, all agendas and plans and goals and angry bees aside.

Posted with Blogsy

First things first.

The big day went well--our five year program review. All the food was delivered, possibly minus one lunch, but that was okay. All the people showed up--or enough of them, anyway. We had great conversations and the great conversations will, we hope, continue. My outfit, in other words, was an unqualified success.

Now, after the circus has come and gone, I would just like to note that:

• all day I was a little dehydrated.
• currently, my hips hurt and the soles of my feet feel dry and consequently a little itchy.
• I am way past tired, so tired that I am fretting about whether people respect me. (p.s., when I am worrying about that, I should always just go take a big fat nap, or, you know, go to bed for the night. Because the next day when I wake up it's easy to see how ridiculous that whole respect thing was.) (...unless people really DON'T respect me--what then? what nap will cure THAT?)

Tomorrow is Friday, and it is a full day, but not a day in which I am in charge of very many things, nor a day when I anticipate being dehydrated or tired past the point of reason. And after Friday? Saturday, the people. 

Now, I intend to

• put on my nightgown
• brush my teeth
• do the crossword and possibly also, and simultaneously,
• watch episodes of some sitcom or other
• fall asleep.

I know, that's not much of an agenda. I like to think of it more as medicine for an ague that I hope will have passed by morning. 

Big day OUT.

In the middle of the middle.

Week seven of the semester is actually almost half way. Almost. Halfway is such a nice word. Halfway is when you reach minute twenty of a forty minute stint on the treadmill (divisible by five, four, two, ten) (and one). Halfway is when you've done six of your twelve-in-a-row consultations with students. Halfway is, regrettably, when you've eaten your ice cream cone to the point where the ice cream is level with the cone (this is a judgement call, but this is, after all, my blog).

However: halfway also means

• grading all  the revisions, even the ones that haven't yet been drafted
• reading and ranking all the job applications
• planning 80% of the five year program review
• going to an as yet undefined number of curriculum committee meetings
• writing two conference presentations
• finishing several tenure reviews

and so on.

Between now and the end, I will do all of the above--all of it, there's no way round but through--and I will also

• go to Tampa
• go to Minneapolis (and the Walker Art Center, yo!)
• keep teaching my wonderful, unpredictable students, and in the process
• read more poetry, theirs and others'
• watch more light materialize every single day
• see tulips and daffodils bloom in my yard
• watch the rose bushes come into leaf
• catch the lilacs blooming

and maybe I will

• read a few books, God willing,
• write a few poems,
• etc.

I was feeling overwhelmed when I started all this bulleting and right now I feel quite a bit better. That's because I'm just about to 

• go to bed. Which I hope I'll do 
• a lot of in the next seven or eight weeks.

In which I contemplate spring break.

Me as as melancholy bunny, along with me as rational cat:

Time management.

Today, at 3:45 p.m., I said to my beloved, "Do you want to go to The King's English for Ann's thing?"

"Ann's thing" is a launch party for my friend Ann Cannon's new picture book Sophie's Fish. I thought I would buy a copy for each of the grandchild units and it would be a lovely thing altogether.

How did I know about Ann's book launch party? Why, I read about it on her blog. This is why I was so bemused by the event that was actually happening at The King's English, not a book launch party for Ann but an event with another writer entirely.

So I took out my smart phone and checked her blog, which assured me that the event would be next Saturday. Next.


"It's all because, when I bought my little agenda for 2012, I accidentally ordered the wrong size. It's too little." I went on to explain that, instead of getting another one, I basically made a Word document with all the dates of the semester on it, and events and what not, printed it out, and carried it in my purse. Except when I had it in my computer bag or somewhere else. And I think we can all agree that a list of dates, not a calendar, makes it harder to visualize a scheme of events, for instance, rather than just one damn day after another.

This may also explain how I mislaid two events that happened to coincide recently, so that when I was reminded by my daughter in one case, and my husband in another, I still didn't realize that the two events were happening on the same evening, at the same time.

"So what shall we do?" we asked ourselves, standing outside of The King's English. We considered going to a movie, but felt that our options were possibly too depressing (A Separation, Rampart) on the one hand, and too junky (21 Jump Street, Casa de mi Padre) on the other. (not that I am at all opposed to junk.) Also, we were tired. Or I was tired. But we needed dinner, probably, and maybe a little something to do beforehand?

We went to Weller's, i.e. Weller's Book Works. I'm not sure what that name signifies. It's hard not to feel like Weller's has taken a step down from former glory in its new space; yet we spent a happy hour there. I have a bunch of new books I would like to read, some of which I am drawn to because of their well-designed and/or attractive covers:

I, too, read books when I was a child,
Marilynne Robinson.

Gary Shteyngart said he lol'd at this book.
Good enough for me.

I have a little thing about the Roma.

possibly a little witchy? I certainly hope so.

Definitely witchy.

Not sure why this and the next two photos
have that weird disinformation on the right hand
side. But obviously I should read this.

She also wrote The Elegance of the
Hedgehog. This book is supposed to have
lots of food in it. Yay!

That's The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine.
Doesn't that sound compelling? Yes, it does.

Maybe this is good, but this same author (according
to the cover) wrote another book called Looking
for Alaska which is right up my alley, I bet.

I found this and the previous book in the YA
section. 

I was looking for another poetry book which
I couldn't find, but this looks pretty good, frankly.

Who knows if this is any good? Maybe, though.

Michael Chabon, ladies and gentlemen.

I want to not only read but to have this book.

But at the end of the day, the book I bought was the actual size of agenda I should have bought in the first place, and when I ordered the wrong size, should have purchased in the second place, but failed to. And the good news was, because of my failures to buy the right thing in the first and second places, I bought this in mid-March, when it was 50% off. Score! 

I am hoping this will help me order my life. Just like everything else I buy.

See? elegant, and a bargain.

This is what the historian bought.

He is quite pleased with it.

Unfinished 2010 business.

Tonight, we saw I Love You Phillip Morris, which I quite enjoyed. But enjoying it isn't the reason I mention it here. It's because it's a 2010 film, and I have now seen it . . . in 2011.

Frankly, I finished a couple of things for my last-semester class (2010), like, two days ago (2011), and I have a bunch more stuff I thought I would finish before the calendar turned (2010), but did not (2011). Here is the laughable list I composed before I even started grading (2010). I called it "big fat Christmas list":

The things that aren't crossed off are things I have not yet done (2011). Also must

• read a little Dickens for my book club,
• finish another book,
• see a bunch of 2010 movies, like maybe that arm-losing 127 Hours, even though the prospect makes me nauseated,
• clean some more stuff in my house (go ahead, just laugh),
• and plan the training/workshop agenda for the Publication Center,
• and organize my sock drawer (just kidding, already organized),
• and listen to the music I bought in 2010,
• AND finish those syllabi omG.

Realistic.

I planned, this week, the week of finals, to be in my office on several successive days, to allow for drop-ins (drive-bys?) from students with questions or last minute thises and thats, to do some grading, to write some documents, and probably to deck the halls with boughs of holly falalalalalalalala, etc. A sensible person would have had a more focused, a narrower, a more realistic agenda. Also, a sensible person would not have set a final due date of tomorrow for stuff to come in. (Note to self: must be more sensible about due dates!) Needless to say, this is more of what happened:

On Monday, I arrive. I plug in. I take a sip of a warm beverage. I contemplate my list. Then, Unexpected Person Number One drops by to say, "Hey! remember when you gave me that incomplete exactly one year ago? Whaddya know, I finished my stuff! It's on my e-portfolio! Have you read it yet? When do you think you'll be able to turn in my grade?" I tell him I will definitely read his work, give him the grade he has earned, definitely by the deadline.

I sip my beverage. I open an e-mail. I sort through what I have and don't have from my students. I send a few e-mails of the "When might I expect this item from you, this item that was due yesterday?" variety. Then, Unexpected Person Number Two drops by to say, "I have a disaster, and you are my faculty leader. Fix it." I tell this person I will fix it, I surely will. I assure this person I will write a strongly worded e-mail, I will make a phone call, I will raise holy hell. I take a gulp of the beverage, and look at my list, and revise my expectations downward.

Etcetera.

It is the end of Wednesday, I have not written any documents, I still have stuff to sort through and numbers to plug in on my grading grid. This week thus far, I have not, in fact, graded one thing whatsoever. Also, I have Christmas presents to buy for the grandchildren! And, for that matter, a Christmas tree. And I need butter. So here is my new plan:

1. Grade things. Everything, in fact.

2. Buy a Christmas tree.

3. Buy some butter.

4. Bake like a madwoman, after the grading is done.

I hope you'll notice that "grade things" was the number one item on my agenda. That means I gots priorities.

Netflix is stalking me.

OR, possibly, I am stalking Netflix. What with the instantaneous episodes of Lost. I wish I could say that I hadn't whiled away hours for two days straight watching and watching. I wish I could say it, but I cannot, for I in fact have whiled away those hours, and I will never get them back.

Question: why do The Others have that sick fixation on other people's children? Can they not have children of their own? Are there no fertility clinics on the island? This feature of the show is totally creeping me out.

In other news: tomorrow I will be doing something productive during the daylight hours. And possibly watching an episode here or there. I said AN episode, the people. Just one. Or maybe two.

In other other news: SATC the Rematch was HORRRIBLE (yes, it needed an extra "R," it was precisely that bad). Exhibit A: Liza Minnelli, at the wedding of two gay men, doing "Single Ladies." Also, many more exhibits too banal and also lame to name.

Addendum to the other other news: If I don't plant some flowers soon, I will not be able to live with myself.

My agenda.

1. Grade.

2. Lunch with birthday boy grandson.

3. Consult with 3 students.

4. Grade.

5. Scavenge dinner.

6. Grade.

7. The Office.

8. 30 Rock.

9. Walk the dog.

10. Grade.

TAGS: tedious

Stop the bleeding.

Today, Powell's, and we were there for several hours which means I did some damage, book-buying-wise. I have recently purchased poetry in several bookstores, so for those of you who are interested, here's some of what's on my poetry reading list, coming up:

Li-Young Lee's new book Behind My Eyes
The Endarkenment, by Jeffrey McDaniel
I Remember, Joe Brainard
In the Western Night: Collected Poems, Frank Bidart
Divagations by Stéphane Mallarmé
a collection by Nazim Hikmet
Translations from the Human Language, Terry Ehret
some translations of Euripides by Anne Carson (Grief Lessons)
Spell by Dan Beachy-Quick
a Selected Poems by Mahmoud Darwish
a collection of Paul Celan's poems (never read him!)

I am in the situation of having a whole lot of books--a whole lot!--so I feel I must establish a reading agenda. This means sorting and arranging the books. I feel it coming on, the sorting and the arranging. And then the reading. My sister-in-law bought me a wonderful book called A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel. I started to read it in the car on the way home from Powell's. Maybe I need more of a plan than "read the next book that falls into your lap, as long as you finish the book for your book club on time."