Approximately the weekend.

All week, I've had the luxury of only online stuff in my class, ergo loads of time to grade and otherwise get caught up. It has been satisfying.

Today was a little frantic, what with my having planned meetings back to back that I knew would, in reality, require a holodeck and instantaneous arrivals, etc., to make happen. Things, in other words, that are not part of the TechPack I got when I signed up for this gig.

What? There was no TechPack? Why am I only realizing this NOW?

Well, anyway, today I ran hither and yon, a little bit late to this, a little bit later to that, quite a bit late to the next thing. I got to have breakfast with my daughter and granddaughters. I got a little grading done but not all that I hoped to do. I got to talk with some of my favorite people about handmade books, which was the best. And I got to talk to my friend about my manuscript, and then make a delicious dinner, and then see Whiskey Tango Foxtrot with Dr. Write and Claire. So, you know, it was a pretty good day. Full. Good.

Tomorrow is the proximal weekend, by which I mean the day adjacent to the weekend, Friday, which is redolent of weekend, whose color is tinged with weekend, which sounds like the weekend. Yes, I could go through all the senses, but you get my drift. It's also the weekend that is adjacent to spring break, so, you know. Extra. Times a billion. That's how weekend-y/spring break-y tomorrow is.

So the fact that I (a) have to teach a class in the morning and then (b) go to a meeting are mere blips on the weekend screen. That's how powerful this weekend is. It is extra-strength. It has the power to make a Friday with regular commitments feel like a mere prelude to the wonder.

Things I am going to do on my weekend-shading-into-spring-break:

(a) sleep till I wake up
(b) work out
(c) make notebooks with my grandson
(d) see two movies
(e) work on my manuscript until it is pristine
(f) wear red shoes

I'm trying to keep my agenda simple because item (e) might be a big one, and also I may need some room for invention and surprise. We'll see. I have high if quiet hopes.

this is the beginning of the Library of Bookforms,
which we decided we will annotate for all sorts of purposes.

Quiet.

Friday night, we both came home from what had felt like a long week. We took at look at the movies:

Me: Ugh. Freaking Sundance.

So we decided we would go get Indian food and come back home to watch something great on Netflix.

At 8 p.m. I found myself in my chair, with my laptop open on my lap, having fallen asleep for a half hour or so. Sitting there. With my laptop open.

Saturday, I got up dang early because of the freaking assessment (previously thoroughly sworn at). I baked a butterkuchen. I brought sundry snacks and accoutrements. I drove on snowy roads to work. On a Saturday! We normed our sample portfolios. We read. We discussed. I ran out in the middle to pick up our Vietnamese food order. My credit card was declined...

Credit Card Security Department Guy: Yeah, that looked suspicious to us.

Me: (what the!?!?!? WHY?!?!?!)

Credit Card Security Department Guy: Very sorry for the inconvenience.

Me: Oh, not a problem. (JEEEEEEEEZ.)

...and then it was accepted, so I drove back on snowy roads to bring the Vietnamese food in to the hungry assessors.

Colleague: What are you going to see tonight?

Me: The Revenant.

...then movie talk ensued. Then we finished the assessment. At 3 p.m., I carted my assessment kit (not a real thing) out to my car and drove home.

Me: I really want to see The Revenant. 

The Historian: (waits for it:)

Me: ...but maybe not tonight.

So we went and had Mexican food at our favorite strip mall Mexican restaurant (Las Cazuelas! It is so choice!). And came home and hopped between two comedies on basic cable. And went to bed.

Today, I slept until I woke up. By slept until I woke up, I basically mean 'till eight.' I made oatmeal and read the entire New York Times. There was more snow on the ground. It's been a mostly quiet weekend, and that, apparently, is what I needed.

I find this, to be absolutely frank, more than a little alarming.

Breathing.

Last night, I slept something like a normal amount. That felt like a miracle. I am now, I would guess, like 22% caught up. I intend to make gains on that figure tonight, but I guess we'll see.

Last night when we were walking the dog, the historian said, "...and you were going to work out tomorrow, right?" and I realized that I was faking not having an agenda for the weekend, so I could feel like there was room for taking a breath. Like I would be able to make myself believe that there was nothing but room for breathing.

Even so, today I ran up the canyon to

• put a deposit down on my daughter's wedding venue (!), and then I did 
• work out (which felt amazing), and then 
• to Joann's (more about this below), and then 
• to the grocery store, which felt so overwhelming that I purchased pretty much nothing but snacks and grapes. And then 
• I came home and checked Canvas to make sure that no one was having a freak out (no one was), and 
• thought about what I was going to do tomorrow.

Last night, I thought we might go see an Argentine film tonight, but today I decided that "half Almodovar, half Tarantino" sounded toooooo gruesome, even if the film is a "black comedy." So we saw a sports movie--the kind that is so formulaic that you can point out the parts you just want to skip over--but we both nonetheless enjoyed it enormously. It was formulaic but also something else, something grittier and smarter.

It's been a good day. Tomorrow, I have to

• buy the other groceries I didn't have the strength of will nor the brainpower to buy today
• find the things I should have been able to buy at JoAnn's, if JoAnn's had not turned into an explosion of candy-colored, fluffy fleece-n-crafts since the last time I visited. JoAnn's! Why are you such a whirligig of madness, wherein it is impossible to buy the ribbon I want and grommets, because they are not to be found? 
• hang up my clothes
• straighten my study (it has reached the point where the squalor is actively competing with my ability to focus)
• maybe buy some plants and plant them, or maybe I will do that on Monday.

And also: breathe. Nothing but breathing.

Movie-going triage.

From the red chair, with laptop, this morning:

Me: Looks like there are a lot of great movies at the Broadway. (cheerful and bleary-eyed--Friday, and jet lag, respectively)

The Historian: There's that new one with Juliette Binoche. (By "Juliette Binoche," I assume he means "The Most Radiantly Beautiful Actress in the World, and Perhaps in All of Movie History." Or maybe that's just me.)

Me: ...but also that Russell Crowe one we haven't see yet. The water one? (By Russell Crowe, I mean, "Arguably great actor who hasn't lost the ability to movie star it up.") And some other ones, I think. (the James Franco-Jonah Hill thing, for instance. This one is implied by 'some other ones, I think,' but not spoken because it's too early for being complete.)

Historian: Also that documentary--what's it called?

Me: I don't want to see that one. I feel like I already know what its argument is.

Historian: (laughs:) Okay, so we'll see one of them, then.

Later in the afternoon, after having collapsed on the bed with Metacritic:

Me: (James Franco/Jonah Hill thing: nope. "Turgid."  Russell Crowe thing: apologist for the Armenian genocide? Can that be true? NOPE. Documentary: never.)

[ancillary review of a bunch of movies in second run theaters, whose titles I don't recognize: nope, nope, and nope. McFarland, U.S.A.? A definite maybe. Could I talk the historian into this movie? Nope. Sci fi thing? ditto: No cyborgs for the historian.]

Juliette Binoche* it is, then.

*worth it.

Office snapshots.

This is how a perfectly lovely weekend comes to a close:

with rubrics...

and Excel spreadsheets...

...and assessment samples.

I should, of course, have finished this last week. But oh well.

*

I am assuming that next week, which will represent the end of this project as well as the end of many other such obligatories, will be less rubricated. Not to mention less Excel spreadsheeted. 'Spreadsheeted' sounds like a prank somebody might play on you at camp, right? A mean, mean prank. At Assessment Camp, which is--you know I'm right--the worst camp EVER.

Weekend productivity update.

1. Despite being dislodged from my own bed by sneaky dog in the early hours, woke on Saturday morning to summon energy and will to go to the gym.
2. On the way home from the gym, came up with brilliant idea to make breakfast burritos!
3. At home, called son, who lives downstairs, on cell phone to ask if he wants a breakfast burrito.
4. He does.
5. Hand grated potatoes (I could call them "house-grated," but that would be going too far.) into house-made (oh, why not.) hash browns.
6. Etc. My breakfast burrito was beyond, partly because I had salsa verde to go on it.
7. Went to grandson's basketball game.
8. Wandering and wild granddaughter prevented normal fan behavior on my part. Even so, grandson's team won--the historian witnessed it.
9. Speaking of which, we watched Into the Woods, but not until we (a) ate a croissant at Tulie's and (b) checked on a skirt in a retailery. (p.s. I have been checking on this skirt for MONTHS.)
10. Into the Woods verdict: a lot of singing, but pretty good. Not enough dancing.
11. Our regular Vietnamese place was too crowded. We ate at an inferior, once-great Vietnamese place. It is as one would expect, given its fall from a once great height: okay. All right.
12. Slept not enough. Woke to accomplish several of the items exhibiting the strike through on this list:

13. Made oatmeal. Slightly scorched the raisins therein, and discovered that slightly scorched raisins are not bad at all, oatmeal-wise.
14. Spoke to Scotland daughter and children. Made a first draft of a poem for my writing group.
15. Discovered, at writing group, that poem is still a first draft.
16. Bought the watched-over skirt for a price that was acceptable, if not up to my highest standards of bargain hunting.
16. Spoke to son and family in Tempe. Van fell on a mountain in Papago Park, fyi. He is a little bit banged up on the forehead, but he is okay.
17. Laundry.
18. Snack dinner, if you can even call it that. Forage dinner.
19. The television up in this joint is subpar.
20. Finished the Sunday crossword like a champ.

And did I accomplish all there was to do? And did I have have many high minded and worthy thoughts? And am I feeling a little bit something in the sad quadrant, for which there are explanations, not least of which is that I am a little bit tired? And will I sleep the sleep of the blest?

The first Saturday of the new year.

It went down like this:

I got up at 7:45, having snoozed for 15 minutes after a 7:30 alarm, to take my son the soccer coach to breakfast in advance of his departure from the snowy, smoggy, supercharged-cold lands of Utah. We went to Village Inn. We chatted over eggs and toast about all sorts of things. The historian and I saw him off in our driveway.

I went inside and promptly--or sort of promptly--went through three different closets and identified many garments to give away. Bagged.

I considered my plans for the next week. I have to get my courses ready to go. I have to see a bunch more movies. I have to chill. I may have to do some more organizing. I need to take down my Christmas tree.

I made my son a grilled cheese sandwich, and myself a piece of peanut butter toast for lunch, and also I ate some leftover pineapple (because I bought, yes, four of them for that dinner party, and four is too many, the people. Too many!).  The cheese sandwich helped me negotiate with my son with the recovering ACL to go see Frankenweenie with me, which I have been obsessed with seeing. Score! We saw it at the dollar theater. It was, perhaps, not the most amazing thing ever, but it was clever and witty and sweet, because it was about a boy and his dog. And death and reanimation, but, you know. Sweet.

We came home, I ate a desultory stray cookie or two, got a shower, put on a sparkly dress, and then the historian and I went to dinner and a jazz concert. It was Freddy Cole, brother of Nat King, and the Bill Charlap Trio. It was a good if slightly too sedate set, and Freddy Cole, who has to be eighty or so, got increasingly good. The second set ending rousingly, with Cole bringing it on this tune (written by Billy Eckstine, covered by multitudes).

Not bad, not bad, not bad. The end.

No, wait: 


NOW it's the end.

Dear weekend,

I liked how you contained a movie and a dinner and picture time with my son and his family. I liked how you contained waking up late(r) this morning. I also liked how I got to spend time with my cherished colleagues, even though (and here's where "like" would be the wrong verb) that time was in the context of a little academic conference.

I liked the conference, but I am not sure I liked the fact that you, weekend, also contained a conference presentation that I was preparing for up till the minute, practically, that I presented it. That kind of activity is antithetical to "Saturday," which, as you know, is approximately half of what you are made of.

Still: we got through it, weekend. And now you are over. So I am going to bed, to wake up to the week. Which, frankly, feels a little bit like a relief.

How do you feel about that, weekend? Shoe's on the other foot, right?

It's a paradox,

htms

The Megastore recommends.

from Random Access

1. The weekend. Sometimes, it's good to pause and acknowledge universal truths: spring is beautiful. The moon is beautiful. Weekends are not only beautiful, they are fitting, they are just, and--I think we need to all admit this up front--weekends save lives. Take this weekend, for example. We ate Vietnamese food, saw Damsels in Distress, watched a grandchild's soccer game, took that same grandchild to lunch and bought him a birthday present, admired his awesome prowess in the bounce house, ate Mexican food, and looked at the giant, brilliant moon. Just a few days ago, I was filled with anxiety about whether I would get everything done that needs to be done. Anxiety, the people: synonymous with stress, as I think we can all agree. Stress is a killer. After the weekend, I feel relaxed, confident that I will accomplish all that is necessary, and maybe I also don't really care all that much? Who can say?/same diff. But in either case, thank God for the weekend. Who knows what might have happened to me otherwise.

dijon mustard,
prerequisite to a
sassy vinaigrette.

2. Cooking with what's in the house. Running son has a friend. They have been hanging out a lot. Did I say this friend is female? Today when they were exiting the house to go to church, I asked them if they wanted to have dinner with us after church. Sure, they said. So they left and I promptly took a nap, which ended when they returned. What? I said. Luckily, I was able to pull my wits together and make green curry cauliflower with rice, roasted brussels sprouts, salad with a sassy vinaigrette, and cut fresh fruit with mint sugar. And even though, in point of fact, I really didn't have quite enough rice, and the fruit was possibly a little on the worse-for-wear side of the fresh fruit spectrum, it all came off quite beautifully and deliciously. This abundance of surprise provisions, by the way, is a consequence of my being a terrible over-shopper for food. Sometimes this results in tears (over having way too many greens, for instance), but sometimes it results in a delicious dinner. And yay for that.

this is sugar.

this is mint.

3. Mint sugar. Mint sugar is the bomb. You put it on fruit, in judicious amounts, and it makes the fruit both slightly sweeter and quite a bit more refreshing. Here's how it works: you take some fresh mint, stems and leaves. Some people would tell you to remove the leaves from the stems, but I will tell you: not necessary. Because you're going to chop that mint, stems and leaves, until it is fine and finer. I usually take a couple of tablespoons of sugar and put it on the counter with the mint and chop away, because that way the sugar takes in the mint oil in the chopping process. When the sugar basically looks like it is flecked with infinitessimal fragments of green, it is ready to mix with whatever fruit you have cut up. It is brilliant with pineapple. It is piquant with strawberries. Today, I mixed it with cut-up black grapes, blood oranges, and blackberries (previously frozen). And it was--as always--lovely.

Artifact.

So that, above, is how it went down today--we all made broadsides, and talked about the history of broadsides. I'm having the same, lucky experience I had last time I taught this class, which was also the first time: massive nerves before each three-hour session, and something close to exhilaration afterward. This time, I have the luck of having Dr. Write and another colleague, Kati Lewis, with me as compatriots.

After teaching, I came home, but not before losing my cell phone at Target (found and retrieved). I hung up a bunch of clothes I had heaped in the closet-in-all-but-name that is, essentially, the rest of our bedroom, and took a short nap. We saw A Dangerous Method tonight, which I loved.

Somehow, this weekend I need to squeeze in about three times more stuff than I have actual time to do it in. Huzzah for expandable weekends!

The weekend.

Weekend stats.

Peaches: 16, from two vendors.

Nectarines: 3 exorbitantly priced ones, from our fruit guy, who has a very high opinion of his fruit in general, and his nectarines in specific.

Movies: 1, unless you count watching A Few Good Men on AMC for the zillionth time, in which case: 2. Wait! also significant portions of The Misfits on TCM, because it was Montgomery Clift day, which we watched while laying around this afternoon and also reading portions of a Swedish mystery novel.

Pants purchased on sale at the Gap: 4 pair, cute if I do say so myself.

Successful technology challenge sorted: new charger for my Macbook Pro, which was (I bet you can guess this:) failing to charge.

Dollars spent to sort technology challenge: 0. That is "zero." That's because of the brilliant Apple Store Genius, Tomasi, who figured out, I guess, that my charger was still warrantied, or something? Anyway, Tomasi was awesome. Tomasi is a solutions provider.

Syllabi finished, worked on, or started: 0. That is also "zero." I have no further comment to make on this point.

Fantastic culinary adventures: 1. I made harissa, to go with roasted potatoes omg it was aMAzing. It was for my poetry group.

Birthday girls who ate pancakes with us: 2. At Dee's! --a brief panegyric on Dee's: unpretentious; full of cheerful folk but still with a table to be had, without any waiting whatsoever; with the best hash browns I've had in quite some time, and, judging from the several bits I stole from one birthday girl's chocolate chip pancakes, with an excellent chocolate chip pancake.

Rating, on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "hideous" and 10 being "stellar," of the weekend overall, thus far: pretty much perfect.

I am ready for a movie and also I would like to put away my heavy sweaters.

This weekend I

had a beautiful dinner with the historian and his children to belatedly celebrate his birthday (happy belated birthday to the historian!); took the dog for several walks; faded into a nap or so; did a crossword or two; read some of my novel; read some of my book of poems; spent plenty of time with my bff the internet; (not really my bff); went to Target twice; wore some tall shoes out on a date; saw Blue Valentine and cried a little; did some laundry for the good of all mankind; made some killer linguine; watched the SAG awards while I whittled away at work-y stuff; rescued college daughter whose car would not start; ate Mexican food; wished someone would finish putting my post-tenure review file together; taught a little online; wished my son-in-law a happy birthday; wondered at the bad air; thought perhaps that I might be coming down with another cold, which seemed vastly unfair; saw Megamind with a son, a daughter, and a grandson; had another son and another grandson over tonight for some rousing conversation and the aforementioned linguine; wrote the phrase "the aforementioned linguine" and liked it, quite a bit; and went to bed (wrote the phrase "went to bed" and wished it were so--and so it will be).

The weekend: a flow chart.

The ideal weekend by lisa b.

The weekend in purchases.

. . . filled with awesome clickable links.
tags: purchasing decisions

A few rights you may not know you have.

Guaranteed by the (or "a") Constitution (TM) (of some kind):

1. The right to eat nachos

2. The right to cheat on the New York Times crossword puzzle by looking up clues on the internet, if it is too hard, or if you start to feel a little urgent about it

3. The right to shop online

4. The right to enjoy terrible music that you loved when you heard it on the radio during that one period of your life

5. The right to live within seven minutes of three different Targets

6. The right to buy cookies at ten p.m. at night because there is a dearth of cookies in your house

7. The right to read a novel with your dog

8. The right to procrastinate

9. The right to skip the boring parts of anything you are reading

10. The right to bake an aspirational cake on the weekend for the historian's birthday (this might be a right limited to me, but who's to say? This IS America).

TAGS: Constitutional, rights, implied, America, we the people

Good weekend.

running son set a personal record (4:48) in the mile (meet at Mountain View)

















bruiser tore it up at the dog park
















it's definitely spring