Apparently, life is far, far too interesting and absorbing for blogging these days. Either that or I haven't had anything to write about. Either that, or I've felt a tad on the exhausted side. Either that, or it must be time to blog right now.
Okay! First off and above all, the new blog over at twit. Yes, the activist "let's not sit around and whine about it" Dr. Write has begun a new blog all about the television. You can read my newest post there. It is already good, as several people have begun posting on this important and vital subject.
Second: poor Betty has had surgery this past week, extensive surgery. It's enough to break your heart. Her prognosis in the short term is good, but probably not so good in the long term. In fact, that's all I can say at the moment.
Third: I sent my manuscript out to several competitions and applied for a residency at a writer's colony. It's part of my assault on the world, which starts now, like Lloyd Dobler's.
Fourth: I spent the night up in Park City with my mom, sisters, nieces, aunt, and daughter. There were hardly any shenanigans and no highjinks to speak of. But it was a lot of fun. There was Mexican food at night, and in the morning, there were waffles. Driving down Emigration Canyon in the snow was a trip, but on the plus side, we listened to the great second side of Abbey Road (it will always be a side to me, because I first listened to this recording on vinyl), which made the ride sublime.
Fifth: there are drafts, some drafts, to catch up on. But that can happen tomorrow.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Unwillingness.
Question: is The Unwillingness
a. the name of my new band?
b. the name of Jorie Graham's new book of poems?
or is it
c. the state of mind that has gripped me, now that it appears to be fall, really fall?
Unwillingness to buckle down and do my work, read my drafts, respond to student posts. Unwillingness to concede that I am obligated to send certain e-mails, set up meetings, follow through on commitments, give people answers to questions.
I just want to do other things, like make applesauce and add voile edges to certain clothes that I am itching to cut up and make into other, more interesting clothes. Like learn, finally, to make podcasts. Like hang out with the kids when they're home and they're willing. Like finally, finally get caught up on certain television shows I haven't gotten around to watching, like season 2 and following of Six Feet Under and Weeds. Or think of ways to support myself with internet activities. Or store nuts for the winter.
In other news, a genius contraption I recently purchased for the fat price of $8 is a little sandwich grill. Nothing fancy, I got it at Target when they were selling cheap microwaves, coffeemakers, and tiny refrigerators for college kids to outfit their dorm rooms with. The historian's son made us grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches with his one day when we dropped by for lunch, and they were so delicious that I got my own. Sort of like a panini maker, but American?
Anyway, it turns out that running son and college daughter are mad for these sandwiches, and they'll stand around and talk to you while you make them one, and they are grateful. Mothers and fathers of America: making your kids completely self-reliant is a little bit over-rated. You want them to be able to do these things for themselves, but to be willing to let you do these things for them, because the kids, who otherwise dole out information about their lives in tiny, tiny useless molecules of information, will chat in an affable and one might say even voluble way while you perform this modest service. It's a better-than-even trade-off for the parents.
a. the name of my new band?
b. the name of Jorie Graham's new book of poems?
or is it
c. the state of mind that has gripped me, now that it appears to be fall, really fall?
Unwillingness to buckle down and do my work, read my drafts, respond to student posts. Unwillingness to concede that I am obligated to send certain e-mails, set up meetings, follow through on commitments, give people answers to questions.
I just want to do other things, like make applesauce and add voile edges to certain clothes that I am itching to cut up and make into other, more interesting clothes. Like learn, finally, to make podcasts. Like hang out with the kids when they're home and they're willing. Like finally, finally get caught up on certain television shows I haven't gotten around to watching, like season 2 and following of Six Feet Under and Weeds. Or think of ways to support myself with internet activities. Or store nuts for the winter.
In other news, a genius contraption I recently purchased for the fat price of $8 is a little sandwich grill. Nothing fancy, I got it at Target when they were selling cheap microwaves, coffeemakers, and tiny refrigerators for college kids to outfit their dorm rooms with. The historian's son made us grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches with his one day when we dropped by for lunch, and they were so delicious that I got my own. Sort of like a panini maker, but American?
Anyway, it turns out that running son and college daughter are mad for these sandwiches, and they'll stand around and talk to you while you make them one, and they are grateful. Mothers and fathers of America: making your kids completely self-reliant is a little bit over-rated. You want them to be able to do these things for themselves, but to be willing to let you do these things for them, because the kids, who otherwise dole out information about their lives in tiny, tiny useless molecules of information, will chat in an affable and one might say even voluble way while you perform this modest service. It's a better-than-even trade-off for the parents.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Q & A.
Q. Where were you when you heard the eighth grandchild had arrived?
A. What? Eight? That's a bunch of grandchildren, isn't it? Right--at the dog park.
A. What? Eight? That's a bunch of grandchildren, isn't it? Right--at the dog park.
David John, born 6:59 p.m. September 20. And his mother.
Historian and newest grandchild.
Sleepy. 8 lb., 21 in.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Manifesto #1, issued from the big chair.
Communique #1: It's time for you people to get cable.
First of all, I want you people to take my advice about what shows to watch, as in: "Mad Men is the best show of the summer." or "Damages is not to be missed." If you people don't have cable, your rejoinder is, "I'll watch it when it comes on dvd and I can get it on Netflix." Not good enough, you people. I want you to take my advice Right. Now.
Second of all, if you have cable, it's simply not true, as some of you have protested, that you'll watch more television and you can't afford to watch television. You people are all disciplined, far, far more disciplined than I am, for instance. All of you. No, really, you people: you are the people for whom TiVo or DVR were invented. If you don't have time to watch the shows I recommend to you, by all means, TiVo them or DVR them and watch them when you have time, between grading assignments the second after your students have turned them in. I know you. You can do it, you people.
Thirdly, it is not too expensive. Give me a break, you people. I know you can figure out a way to pay for cable without the premium stations. You people, this is all I ask of you. Just get the cable that has Mad Men (AMC) and Damages (FX). So I can talk to you about the shows I watch.
And another thing, you people: what is it with the sorry state of television criticism and commentary in this great but possibly failing nation of ours? Why is it that when a person who loves a television show wants to read about it, because none of her friends are watching it--they're all waiting for it to come out on dvd, so they can watch it on Netflix--she can find virtually nothing, not even on the internet? Or a review based on watching the first two episodes when, come on, you people--anyone knows that it takes more than two episodes to get most shows rolling. (Although not Mad Men or Damages--both of these shows were awesome from the get-go.) Can we do anything about this, you people? Can we make television criticism better in this great but possibly failing nation of ours? Not if we're waiting for shows to come out on Netflix, we can't. But I digress.
If you won't get cable--and the good Lord knows I've tried my best to convince you that you should--I will have little recourse. I think you know what I'll be forced to do. That's right--I'll have to keep on talking to myself about these shows, that's what. You people: it will be upon your heads.
First of all, I want you people to take my advice about what shows to watch, as in: "Mad Men is the best show of the summer." or "Damages is not to be missed." If you people don't have cable, your rejoinder is, "I'll watch it when it comes on dvd and I can get it on Netflix." Not good enough, you people. I want you to take my advice Right. Now.
Second of all, if you have cable, it's simply not true, as some of you have protested, that you'll watch more television and you can't afford to watch television. You people are all disciplined, far, far more disciplined than I am, for instance. All of you. No, really, you people: you are the people for whom TiVo or DVR were invented. If you don't have time to watch the shows I recommend to you, by all means, TiVo them or DVR them and watch them when you have time, between grading assignments the second after your students have turned them in. I know you. You can do it, you people.
Thirdly, it is not too expensive. Give me a break, you people. I know you can figure out a way to pay for cable without the premium stations. You people, this is all I ask of you. Just get the cable that has Mad Men (AMC) and Damages (FX). So I can talk to you about the shows I watch.
And another thing, you people: what is it with the sorry state of television criticism and commentary in this great but possibly failing nation of ours? Why is it that when a person who loves a television show wants to read about it, because none of her friends are watching it--they're all waiting for it to come out on dvd, so they can watch it on Netflix--she can find virtually nothing, not even on the internet? Or a review based on watching the first two episodes when, come on, you people--anyone knows that it takes more than two episodes to get most shows rolling. (Although not Mad Men or Damages--both of these shows were awesome from the get-go.) Can we do anything about this, you people? Can we make television criticism better in this great but possibly failing nation of ours? Not if we're waiting for shows to come out on Netflix, we can't. But I digress.
If you won't get cable--and the good Lord knows I've tried my best to convince you that you should--I will have little recourse. I think you know what I'll be forced to do. That's right--I'll have to keep on talking to myself about these shows, that's what. You people: it will be upon your heads.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
My life is now complete.
My new (to me) comfortable chair, ensconced in my office.
My untidy bookshelves (view from new to me comfy chair).
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Lost and found.
Found: my earring, dark purple teardrop with fishhook back. On colleague's backyard deck by firebowl, near where I was sitting.
Overheard (in Scotland):
Mother: Miriam, we need to turn the lights off when we leave a room. Electricity costs mommy and daddy money!
(sometime later) Mother, taking clothing off the line, singing to herself.
Miriam (possibly with clenched teeth): Stop singing! It costs us money!
[I'm thinking that anything even remotely irritating could be said to cost us money: dog hair (stop shedding! it costs us money!), fruitflies (stop swarming! it costs us money!), insomnia (stop keeping me up at night! it costs us money!) . . .]
New: inky, self-applied manicure in a color called "Moscow at Midnight." I am a big fan of these very dark fingernails. I am, in fact, enamored of my nail enamel. This, despite the fact that, while shopping for this polish, I dropped a bottle of it in the store and it shattered and splattered, dear readers, everywhere, including on my own ankles and knees.
Me: I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! (meaning: I am utterly and completely humiliated by my shameful lack of coordination and propensity for shattering inky nailpolish everywhere).
Salesperson: It's no problem. Really. Bottles of polish get dropped all the time. You'd be surprised.
Me: I will pay for it, really. I'm so sorry.
Salesperson: No, you're fine. Really. It happens all the time. You'd be surprised. One time a customer dropped a bottle of polish and then got mad at me about it. Like it was my fault. You're being nice. That really helps.
[The customer got mad? As in, how dare you have nail polish that might drop and shatter? In glass bottles, I ask you! I should sue you for having breakable nail polish bottles that might splatter all over my ankles. And knees! My knees have inky polish on them! I should sue!]
Me: I'm so sorry, I really apologize.
Her: You're fine, really. Don't worry. It happens all the time.
And I walk away with splatters of dark dark dark nail polish. On my ankles and on my knees.
(stop splattering nail polish! It costs us money!)
Overheard (in Scotland):
Mother: Miriam, we need to turn the lights off when we leave a room. Electricity costs mommy and daddy money!
(sometime later) Mother, taking clothing off the line, singing to herself.
Miriam (possibly with clenched teeth): Stop singing! It costs us money!
[I'm thinking that anything even remotely irritating could be said to cost us money: dog hair (stop shedding! it costs us money!), fruitflies (stop swarming! it costs us money!), insomnia (stop keeping me up at night! it costs us money!) . . .]
New: inky, self-applied manicure in a color called "Moscow at Midnight." I am a big fan of these very dark fingernails. I am, in fact, enamored of my nail enamel. This, despite the fact that, while shopping for this polish, I dropped a bottle of it in the store and it shattered and splattered, dear readers, everywhere, including on my own ankles and knees.
Me: I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! (meaning: I am utterly and completely humiliated by my shameful lack of coordination and propensity for shattering inky nailpolish everywhere).
Salesperson: It's no problem. Really. Bottles of polish get dropped all the time. You'd be surprised.
Me: I will pay for it, really. I'm so sorry.
Salesperson: No, you're fine. Really. It happens all the time. You'd be surprised. One time a customer dropped a bottle of polish and then got mad at me about it. Like it was my fault. You're being nice. That really helps.
[The customer got mad? As in, how dare you have nail polish that might drop and shatter? In glass bottles, I ask you! I should sue you for having breakable nail polish bottles that might splatter all over my ankles. And knees! My knees have inky polish on them! I should sue!]
Me: I'm so sorry, I really apologize.
Her: You're fine, really. Don't worry. It happens all the time.
And I walk away with splatters of dark dark dark nail polish. On my ankles and on my knees.
(stop splattering nail polish! It costs us money!)
Sunday, September 09, 2007
You're what? Already?
Last night at the English dept. party, it became clear (through casually dropped references made by a number of my blogging posse) that they are already grading.
What are they thinking? Can it be true? or is it a conspiracy to make me feel bad about myself (I'm pretty sure such conspiracies are being plotted on a daily basis--otherwise, how can I explain all my self-loathing?)?
I had to reassure myself that I wasn't a slacker by reminding myself that I, too, am "grading" online discussions and posts. But are we talking about full-on, "they handed in their assignments and now I must grade them," kind of grading? I really like to get a full head of steam which easily takes three or four weeks into the semester, and which usually involves parking my car facing downhill, before I go there.
What are they thinking? Can it be true? or is it a conspiracy to make me feel bad about myself (I'm pretty sure such conspiracies are being plotted on a daily basis--otherwise, how can I explain all my self-loathing?)?
I had to reassure myself that I wasn't a slacker by reminding myself that I, too, am "grading" online discussions and posts. But are we talking about full-on, "they handed in their assignments and now I must grade them," kind of grading? I really like to get a full head of steam which easily takes three or four weeks into the semester, and which usually involves parking my car facing downhill, before I go there.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Friday night at the movies.
We saw 3:10 to Yuma tonight, and may I say that a Western can sometimes be just the thing. In fact, I said to the historian as we departed into the night that they should make more Westerns, if they're good ones like 3:10 to Yuma.
What was so good about it, you ask? Well, let me tell you: it starts with the acting, which was dang good pretty much throughout. You might say that the kid who plays Charlie Prince, Ben Foster, hammed it up pretty good, and I wouldn't disagree, but maybe a good Western needs a preening, preternaturally wide-eyed psychopath, and if that's true, then Ben Foster filled that bill. But Christian Bale and Russell Crowe were stellar. Who delivers the Burt Lancaster-ish big guy charisma better than Russell Crowe these days? I submit to you that the answer is: no one.
The story is good, good enough that the two hours it takes to watch the movie didn't seem one bit long. Is it a guy movie? you ask. Well, probably, but my women: who among us hasn't been thoroughly colonized by patriarchy and its mythos? So you might as well enjoy yourself! Pretend you're an outlaw (Russell Crowe) on the one hand, and a good, principled person (Christian Bale) on the other. You probably wouldn't want to be any of the women in this story, unless you want to be a saloon gal who gets all luvved up by Russell Crowe.
As a bonus, there was a preview for the new Paul Thomas Anderson movie (yes, he is "Paul Thomas" in this movie, and not "P.T."), There Will Be Blood. Oh my goodness, it looks great. A. Daniel Day-Lewis. B. Paul Dano, the silent kid from Little Miss Sunshine. C. A story about Oklahoma oil, a period piece. Don't you just want to find out when it opens and mark it on your calendar? Me, too.
p.s. There was also a preview for a new movie starring Tom Cruise, Meryl Streep, and Robert Redford, where T.C. plays a U.S. Senator trying to hector M.S.'s journalist, sort of, into telling the true story of the war on terror. I am hoping for a rip-snorting piece of propagander out of that one, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
What was so good about it, you ask? Well, let me tell you: it starts with the acting, which was dang good pretty much throughout. You might say that the kid who plays Charlie Prince, Ben Foster, hammed it up pretty good, and I wouldn't disagree, but maybe a good Western needs a preening, preternaturally wide-eyed psychopath, and if that's true, then Ben Foster filled that bill. But Christian Bale and Russell Crowe were stellar. Who delivers the Burt Lancaster-ish big guy charisma better than Russell Crowe these days? I submit to you that the answer is: no one.
The story is good, good enough that the two hours it takes to watch the movie didn't seem one bit long. Is it a guy movie? you ask. Well, probably, but my women: who among us hasn't been thoroughly colonized by patriarchy and its mythos? So you might as well enjoy yourself! Pretend you're an outlaw (Russell Crowe) on the one hand, and a good, principled person (Christian Bale) on the other. You probably wouldn't want to be any of the women in this story, unless you want to be a saloon gal who gets all luvved up by Russell Crowe.
As a bonus, there was a preview for the new Paul Thomas Anderson movie (yes, he is "Paul Thomas" in this movie, and not "P.T."), There Will Be Blood. Oh my goodness, it looks great. A. Daniel Day-Lewis. B. Paul Dano, the silent kid from Little Miss Sunshine. C. A story about Oklahoma oil, a period piece. Don't you just want to find out when it opens and mark it on your calendar? Me, too.
p.s. There was also a preview for a new movie starring Tom Cruise, Meryl Streep, and Robert Redford, where T.C. plays a U.S. Senator trying to hector M.S.'s journalist, sort of, into telling the true story of the war on terror. I am hoping for a rip-snorting piece of propagander out of that one, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
On pasta.
Running son: I think I'm just opposed to spaghetti because everyone in this family just loves it so much.
Singing son: I love spaghetti!
New mom daughter: Spaghetti is, like, the perfect meal.
Running son: Maybe it's just the noodle. I like thicker noodles.
Me: I like linguini most--it's just a little thicker.
Son-in-law: Yes. I agree, linguini.
The historian: I love angel hair pasta.
Daughter-in-law and new mom daughter: Penne.
Running son: I can think of about 50 better things to eat than spaghetti.
Singing son: No way! I love spaghetti! Like what?
Running son: Like fettucine alfredo.
New mom daughter: Fettucine alfredo is what fat people eat.
Son-in-law: I guarantee you, if fettucine alfredo were as easy to make as spaghetti is, you'd make it all the time and you would love it.
Singing son: Spaghetti is still the best.
Son-in-law: What about butternut squash ravioli? Ever had that? Cause I have, and butternut squash ravioli kicks spaghetti's ass.
Singing son: I love spaghetti!
New mom daughter: Spaghetti is, like, the perfect meal.
Running son: Maybe it's just the noodle. I like thicker noodles.
Me: I like linguini most--it's just a little thicker.
Son-in-law: Yes. I agree, linguini.
The historian: I love angel hair pasta.
Daughter-in-law and new mom daughter: Penne.
Running son: I can think of about 50 better things to eat than spaghetti.
Singing son: No way! I love spaghetti! Like what?
Running son: Like fettucine alfredo.
New mom daughter: Fettucine alfredo is what fat people eat.
Son-in-law: I guarantee you, if fettucine alfredo were as easy to make as spaghetti is, you'd make it all the time and you would love it.
Singing son: Spaghetti is still the best.
Son-in-law: What about butternut squash ravioli? Ever had that? Cause I have, and butternut squash ravioli kicks spaghetti's ass.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Idaho is a state of mind.
When in doubt, I just ask myself what would Middlebrow do? We're up here hanging out for Labor Day.
idaho is less than you think
idaho is a state of mind
idaho is seismically active
idaho is also home to many herds of wild horses
idaho is an amateur event
idaho is like this
idaho is told to keep out of foreign policy
idaho is our is our is our classroom classroom classroom
idaho is booked on the red
idaho is smallmouth territory
idaho is less than you think writer
idaho is a state of mind you woke up in the hospital this morning
idaho is seismically active too boise
idaho is climatically well suited for a variety of fruit production
idaho is a study in
idaho is a baseless myth
idaho is the answer to all of these problems
idaho is home to many transplanted troublemaker bears
idaho is bordered by canada to the north
idaho is the way to go
idaho is too good to be true
idaho is losing y2k programmers to private industry
idaho is nicknamed the gem state
idaho is a state rich in railroad history
idaho is known for vast expanses of volcanic plains and the river of no return
idaho is grown right here in the local area
idaho is small state postal history wise
idaho is also expected to
idaho is a very diverse state with desert areas in the south east and west
idaho is in foal
idaho is known for producing ski champs
idaho is the number one state in the country in the percentage of public school 8th graders attending schools without a tardiness problem
idaho is protected on all sides by mountains
idaho is in many ways three states
idaho is a state rich in geographical extremes from high desert to towering peaks
idaho is a non
idaho is het stiefkindje van de staten in het noordwesten
idaho is famous
idaho is interested in hiring experienced stitchers for the 2002 summer
idaho is a large state with a total land area of 63
idaho is less than you think
idaho is a state of mind
idaho is seismically active
idaho is also home to many herds of wild horses
idaho is an amateur event
idaho is like this
idaho is told to keep out of foreign policy
idaho is our is our is our classroom classroom classroom
idaho is booked on the red
idaho is smallmouth territory
idaho is less than you think writer
idaho is a state of mind you woke up in the hospital this morning
idaho is seismically active too boise
idaho is climatically well suited for a variety of fruit production
idaho is a study in
idaho is a baseless myth
idaho is the answer to all of these problems
idaho is home to many transplanted troublemaker bears
idaho is bordered by canada to the north
idaho is the way to go
idaho is too good to be true
idaho is losing y2k programmers to private industry
idaho is nicknamed the gem state
idaho is a state rich in railroad history
idaho is known for vast expanses of volcanic plains and the river of no return
idaho is grown right here in the local area
idaho is small state postal history wise
idaho is also expected to
idaho is a very diverse state with desert areas in the south east and west
idaho is in foal
idaho is known for producing ski champs
idaho is the number one state in the country in the percentage of public school 8th graders attending schools without a tardiness problem
idaho is protected on all sides by mountains
idaho is in many ways three states
idaho is a state rich in geographical extremes from high desert to towering peaks
idaho is a non
idaho is het stiefkindje van de staten in het noordwesten
idaho is famous
idaho is interested in hiring experienced stitchers for the 2002 summer
idaho is a large state with a total land area of 63
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Happy, go figure.
It's probably bad luck to talk about it this way, but I have been rolling from one good thing to another lately, it seems like, and I can't help it, I just feel happy. A list, in no particular order:
1. Saw two good movies last weekend, Rocket Science and No End in Sight. (not that the latter is a day at the park, of course)
2. Had an excellent writing group at my house, wherein I baked my first madeleines in my new madeleine pan, and also made a lovely roasted eggplant spread to go on crostini and the killer iced tea I've been making all summer. And I finished a draft of a new sestina. And the group mostly liked it.
3. We cleaned up the house, and I did a rather large-scale cleaning up of the kitchen, including throwing away ancient bottles of sesame oil and so forth from the refrigerator.
4. My online and face-to-face classes seem to be going just swell.
5. I love my children and they are all awesome and amazing people.
6. My husband the historian is a prince among men (the "prince" appellation must be taken as a metaphor, since, as a committed leftist, he probably wouldn't select this term for himself. Although he is discursively flexible, one of his many, many fine traits. Also, he's cute.).
7. My dogs are gorgeous and of excellent character.
8. The weather isn't so infernally hot. It's cool-ish at night and in the morning.
9. It's my birthday week, as my friend Jen reminds me, and even if I am turning fifty, it feels okay. Good, even.
Happy to be alive. Hope you're having a good week, too.
1. Saw two good movies last weekend, Rocket Science and No End in Sight. (not that the latter is a day at the park, of course)
2. Had an excellent writing group at my house, wherein I baked my first madeleines in my new madeleine pan, and also made a lovely roasted eggplant spread to go on crostini and the killer iced tea I've been making all summer. And I finished a draft of a new sestina. And the group mostly liked it.
3. We cleaned up the house, and I did a rather large-scale cleaning up of the kitchen, including throwing away ancient bottles of sesame oil and so forth from the refrigerator.
4. My online and face-to-face classes seem to be going just swell.
5. I love my children and they are all awesome and amazing people.
6. My husband the historian is a prince among men (the "prince" appellation must be taken as a metaphor, since, as a committed leftist, he probably wouldn't select this term for himself. Although he is discursively flexible, one of his many, many fine traits. Also, he's cute.).
7. My dogs are gorgeous and of excellent character.
8. The weather isn't so infernally hot. It's cool-ish at night and in the morning.
9. It's my birthday week, as my friend Jen reminds me, and even if I am turning fifty, it feels okay. Good, even.
Happy to be alive. Hope you're having a good week, too.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Meadow update.
This has been a year of practically no gardening on my part. I don't know what that was about, really, except I couldn't get it together, or get motivated, or whatever, to plant almost anything. That means that we were able to see what there was, to let the things already there show their stuff. For instance, some teeny little phlox plants I'd put in the front flower bed a couple of seasons ago bloomed modestly this year. Next year, they should be even better. So there were some pluses to my utter lack of ambition.
The front lawn, aka the meadow, is making progress, but within the bounds of the law. We have kept the grasses (some dare call them weeds) at an unflagrant height (under 12") by weed whacking, for instance. But the creeping thyme keeps on creeping--one might describe the process as the thymification of the lawn. Flowers like columbine, flax, and true geranium have bloomed and are flourishing amongst the grass. My plan is to create a path of stepping stones through the middle of it, and let the plants keep on doing their work.
The front lawn, aka the meadow, is making progress, but within the bounds of the law. We have kept the grasses (some dare call them weeds) at an unflagrant height (under 12") by weed whacking, for instance. But the creeping thyme keeps on creeping--one might describe the process as the thymification of the lawn. Flowers like columbine, flax, and true geranium have bloomed and are flourishing amongst the grass. My plan is to create a path of stepping stones through the middle of it, and let the plants keep on doing their work.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I've had enough of this nonsense, already.
. . . which is merely to report that there are problems--some problems--with my online courses. I am not, however, freaking out. It's a part of my new personal non-freakout policy. At this late date, and at this advanced age, it has finally occurred to me that my freaking out upsets people who care about me, and, moreover, people that I care about. So I'm quitting. Cold turkey.
I have not freaked out upon the following occasions, when:
1. I realized that the wrong section of my composition course was associated with WebCT, which meant that the e-mail I had just sent to all my students would make no sense to them.
2. one of the speakers in our living room stopped emitting sound.
3. probably some other stressful occasions I can't exactly remember right now.
Part of the problem is, apparently, I've been a big enough freaker-outer in the past that I can no longer utter even the tiniest little shriek without my offspring swarming all over it, telling me to calm down. "I'm calm," I say, in a calm voice. "No, you're starting to stress," they rejoin, which of course makes me want to Freak. Out.
No more, I say. Life's too short. I am going to practice the breathing and the counting to ten and the "life's too short" speech. Then I am going to lie down, possibly cry a little, or shriek into my pillow. Then breathe and count some more.
I have not freaked out upon the following occasions, when:
1. I realized that the wrong section of my composition course was associated with WebCT, which meant that the e-mail I had just sent to all my students would make no sense to them.
2. one of the speakers in our living room stopped emitting sound.
3. probably some other stressful occasions I can't exactly remember right now.
Part of the problem is, apparently, I've been a big enough freaker-outer in the past that I can no longer utter even the tiniest little shriek without my offspring swarming all over it, telling me to calm down. "I'm calm," I say, in a calm voice. "No, you're starting to stress," they rejoin, which of course makes me want to Freak. Out.
No more, I say. Life's too short. I am going to practice the breathing and the counting to ten and the "life's too short" speech. Then I am going to lie down, possibly cry a little, or shriek into my pillow. Then breathe and count some more.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Tell me which way you liked that.
It is time to break the Summer of 2007 all the way down with the Best and Worst list:
Best new recordings: Rickie Lee Jones, The Sermon on Exposition Blvd., Feist, The Reminder, Rufus Wainwright, Release the Stars
Best family stuff: the Scots came to town, baby Deacon was born, family gatherings of all sorts when my brother came to town, my sister came to breakfast at my house. Running out with college daughter and running son for sodas late at night. Late night movies with college daughter.
Best household developments: I cleaned out my closet and gave away so many clothes, so many that I can now see that I still have a bunch to give (I told the historian last week that I bet I could reduce my sweaters by a third--and I did). I bought a vacuum cleaner. I got the downstairs carpets cleaned.
Best television: so many middle-aged actresses have shows now--Lili Taylor, Holly Hunter, Glenn Close, Kyra Sedgwick. I now have a weekly regimen of State of Mind, Saving Grace, Damages, and The Closer. I'm also watching The Office, 30 Rock, and the pretty horrible most recent season of Scrubs. Also, a brilliant series on AMC called Mad Men. Also random episodes of Top Chef. Aside from that one, I could never get into the reality tv scene, so summer has kind of been a wasteland--but now, there's actual new television: some shows that are only barely passable as shows but with terrific acting (State of Mind and Saving Grace), but also terrific shows with excellent acting (The Closer, Damages, The Office, 30 Rock, and Mad Men).
Best movies (aka, movies at which I had a good time): Superbad, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hairspray, Once, Hot Fuzz, Knocked Up, Disturbia, Away From Her, Broken English, and The Simpsons Movie.
I'm also adding the amazing vacation we took to the "Best" list.
Sundry other bests: I got to write new poems, including trying my hand at a canzone (still working on it), read new books, and relax a lot. I wrote a paper with counterintuitive. I've got some poems coming out this fall. I feel invigorated about my writing and submitting life. I can carry a lot of music around on my iPod.
Worst: Well, after a summer like that, it would be a little churlish to linger on "worst." Worst is, maybe, having to contemplate checking all the links on your readings pages for the online class you're about to teach. Or having to spend Tuesday in meetings. Or having to get your parking hang tag. Or thinking about how very, very whiny you have all of a sudden, after a pretty much blissful summer, become.
Best new recordings: Rickie Lee Jones, The Sermon on Exposition Blvd., Feist, The Reminder, Rufus Wainwright, Release the Stars
Best family stuff: the Scots came to town, baby Deacon was born, family gatherings of all sorts when my brother came to town, my sister came to breakfast at my house. Running out with college daughter and running son for sodas late at night. Late night movies with college daughter.
Best household developments: I cleaned out my closet and gave away so many clothes, so many that I can now see that I still have a bunch to give (I told the historian last week that I bet I could reduce my sweaters by a third--and I did). I bought a vacuum cleaner. I got the downstairs carpets cleaned.
Best television: so many middle-aged actresses have shows now--Lili Taylor, Holly Hunter, Glenn Close, Kyra Sedgwick. I now have a weekly regimen of State of Mind, Saving Grace, Damages, and The Closer. I'm also watching The Office, 30 Rock, and the pretty horrible most recent season of Scrubs. Also, a brilliant series on AMC called Mad Men. Also random episodes of Top Chef. Aside from that one, I could never get into the reality tv scene, so summer has kind of been a wasteland--but now, there's actual new television: some shows that are only barely passable as shows but with terrific acting (State of Mind and Saving Grace), but also terrific shows with excellent acting (The Closer, Damages, The Office, 30 Rock, and Mad Men).
Best movies (aka, movies at which I had a good time): Superbad, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Hairspray, Once, Hot Fuzz, Knocked Up, Disturbia, Away From Her, Broken English, and The Simpsons Movie.
I'm also adding the amazing vacation we took to the "Best" list.
Sundry other bests: I got to write new poems, including trying my hand at a canzone (still working on it), read new books, and relax a lot. I wrote a paper with counterintuitive. I've got some poems coming out this fall. I feel invigorated about my writing and submitting life. I can carry a lot of music around on my iPod.
Worst: Well, after a summer like that, it would be a little churlish to linger on "worst." Worst is, maybe, having to contemplate checking all the links on your readings pages for the online class you're about to teach. Or having to spend Tuesday in meetings. Or having to get your parking hang tag. Or thinking about how very, very whiny you have all of a sudden, after a pretty much blissful summer, become.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Literary adaptations.
Last night at the movies, I saw a big old stand-up display thingie for a new movie called Beowulf that will be out at Christmas. Beowulf? Can they mean the Old English heroic poem? Will it be in Anglo-Saxon and dubbed into modern English, or with modern English subtitles? Or in modern English, with Old English subtitles, a more scintillating choice? Who will play Grendel? And more importantly, who will play Grendel's mom? And will Beowulf use the f-word?
These are important questions to be sure, but they were distracting me from my daughter's and my out-the-theater-door rendition of "Spider-Pig," which we were singing as we left a 9:30 p.m. screening of The Simpson's Movie. Which was plenty of fun. Zippy and visual-joke-y and an equal opportunity offender, if you were inclined to be offended. Interesting to me how the two movies I've seen most recently with college daughter, TSM and The Bourne Supremacy (there cannot be another Bourne movie, can there? But if there were, what would be the new word: we went from Identity to Ultimatum to Supremacy, so what--Utter Annihilation? Hegemony?), both have as a subtext the "global war on terrorism" (and I quote). Not that I need to deconstruct that for you.
These are important questions to be sure, but they were distracting me from my daughter's and my out-the-theater-door rendition of "Spider-Pig," which we were singing as we left a 9:30 p.m. screening of The Simpson's Movie. Which was plenty of fun. Zippy and visual-joke-y and an equal opportunity offender, if you were inclined to be offended. Interesting to me how the two movies I've seen most recently with college daughter, TSM and The Bourne Supremacy (there cannot be another Bourne movie, can there? But if there were, what would be the new word: we went from Identity to Ultimatum to Supremacy, so what--Utter Annihilation? Hegemony?), both have as a subtext the "global war on terrorism" (and I quote). Not that I need to deconstruct that for you.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Quit it.
The summer equivalent of the part of winter--like, mid-February or so--when you think if you see any more snow you'll puke, when the snow's dirty and disgusting, and you're sick of sweaters--that part?--well the summer equivalent of it is when you've brought home more and more vegetables and fruit from the market, and your swamp cooler's chugging away (for the furry dog! for her, it's for her sake!), and you still have to prop the door open for the dogs to go in and out, and that means that there are FLIES. And also fruit flies. So making and eating dinner is a project involving, a. heat and b. winged pests and c. a rapidly declining good mood.
On the plus side, I obtained a used copy of Ram, the second solo album Paul McCartney made after the Beatles broke up. I was prompted to do this because my daughter's (Scotland) husband is a rabid Beatles fan, and especially loves Paul McCartney, and so it came to pass that Ram came into heavy rotation in their household, in part because my granddaughter loves it. Especially the "Admiral Halsey" medley. ("Do we get to hear 'hands across the water' now? Have we missed 'little gypsy get around'?") Now, no one will extol the virtues of John Lennon more than I--that mordant wit, that inimitable sad sack voice, the primal scream inherent in his singing even before he did that whole scream therapy thing. And if you'd like to argue, with fervor, that neither Lennon nor McCartney were as good without one another as they were when they wrote and recorded together, I will not disagree. But I must say that Ram is an expression of pure pop joy, it is splendid, and I urge you all to take a listen to it if you haven't, and to have a new listen if you haven't listened recently. Go on, have a listen. (you can hear clips here.)
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Your 19th nervous breakdown.
I have a little summer cold. You know, the perfect accessory to end-of-summer dread.
On the one hand, there's something sort of luxurious (sort of!) in collapsing on your bed in the p.m. just because if you don't, you might melt away what with the sneezing, the drippy nose, the watery eyes. On the other hand, it's also awful.
I am reading--perfect, perfect trash--a vampire novel, written by a Utah girl, called Twilight. It has been a smash hit. Score for the Utah girls! The subsequent novels in the series have also been hits. Score again, Utah girl!
What will everyone around here eat for dinner? I guess they'll have to forage. I guess they'll forage, or they'll starve. Or they'll buy fast food. Yeah, fast food. That's the ticket. It's what makes America great, just ask running son.
On the one hand, there's something sort of luxurious (sort of!) in collapsing on your bed in the p.m. just because if you don't, you might melt away what with the sneezing, the drippy nose, the watery eyes. On the other hand, it's also awful.
I am reading--perfect, perfect trash--a vampire novel, written by a Utah girl, called Twilight. It has been a smash hit. Score for the Utah girls! The subsequent novels in the series have also been hits. Score again, Utah girl!
What will everyone around here eat for dinner? I guess they'll have to forage. I guess they'll forage, or they'll starve. Or they'll buy fast food. Yeah, fast food. That's the ticket. It's what makes America great, just ask running son.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
August is the cruelest month.
I counted: fifteen days till I have to show up at work. This means that I'm already nostalgic for summer and it's not over yet, a state which I believe philosophers have written about, which nonetheless does not mitigate how much it sucks. However: at least it's a summer worth being wistful about.
1. the Scotland contingent came over for an extended visit, which resulted in this and this and this.
2. my daughter, the make-up artist, had a baby, and during her maternity leave I got to visit frequently and hold the baby in her quiet sleeping house.
3. we went to the Idaho cabin where we observed the beautiful river and the mercurial skies.
4. the historian and I took an excellent vacation that restored and refreshed us.
5. I got to hang out with the dogs many days.
6. I bought a new vacuum cleaner, which is the bomb.
7. I have had lunch, tea, and shopping with many of my friends.
8. I made new literary contacts.
9. I have some poems coming out in the fall, and more poems and mss. in the mail (burst of optimism).
10. Two sons graduated, one from college and one from high school. College daughter is home, working, and available for late-night movie dates.
11. I took a wonderful trip to see my best friend since forever in Santa Barbara.
Yesterday, in a burst of industry, I pulled many, many items from my wardrobe to give away. I threw away and recycled stuff and vacuumed some ferocious dust bunnies from under the bed. The room is unbelievably tidy, which always feels like a small miracle. I need to do the same in my study and in the kitchen. Optimism is like a drug and I am still on it.
12. I have done quite a bit of new writing, especially when you factor in all of the above.
1. the Scotland contingent came over for an extended visit, which resulted in this and this and this.
2. my daughter, the make-up artist, had a baby, and during her maternity leave I got to visit frequently and hold the baby in her quiet sleeping house.
3. we went to the Idaho cabin where we observed the beautiful river and the mercurial skies.
4. the historian and I took an excellent vacation that restored and refreshed us.
5. I got to hang out with the dogs many days.
6. I bought a new vacuum cleaner, which is the bomb.
7. I have had lunch, tea, and shopping with many of my friends.
8. I made new literary contacts.
9. I have some poems coming out in the fall, and more poems and mss. in the mail (burst of optimism).
10. Two sons graduated, one from college and one from high school. College daughter is home, working, and available for late-night movie dates.
11. I took a wonderful trip to see my best friend since forever in Santa Barbara.
Yesterday, in a burst of industry, I pulled many, many items from my wardrobe to give away. I threw away and recycled stuff and vacuumed some ferocious dust bunnies from under the bed. The room is unbelievably tidy, which always feels like a small miracle. I need to do the same in my study and in the kitchen. Optimism is like a drug and I am still on it.
12. I have done quite a bit of new writing, especially when you factor in all of the above.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Market.
We got up at least a little earlier than we've been getting up for the market today. It was still crowded, but here's what we got:
yellow cherries
huckleberry potatoes
red haven peaches
broccoli romanesco, chard, tomatoes
Other stuff too--thin little green beans, sweet white onions, a fat purple Italian eggplant. Garlic, an herb baguette, blackberries. I will be cooking up a storm this week.
yellow cherries
huckleberry potatoes
red haven peaches
broccoli romanesco, chard, tomatoes
Other stuff too--thin little green beans, sweet white onions, a fat purple Italian eggplant. Garlic, an herb baguette, blackberries. I will be cooking up a storm this week.
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