YesterdayLooksGood

Traveling Planning (er, fantasizing)

2012-01-28T16:29:00.003-05:00

I'm pretty much ready to throw my hands up in disgust at this weird-ass winter (too warm and no real snow) we're having in Michigan this year. So, Adventure Buddy and I have pulled out the calendars and settled on some tentative dates for the long-delayed backpacking trip to the desert.

Hello, Canyonlands, make yourself pretty, we'll see you mid-May (hopefully).

"This is What Democracy Looks Like"

2012-01-16T21:40:00.003-05:00

Hundreds of people showed up for today's protest against Governor Rick Snyder and his endorsement of the Emergency Manager Act (Public Act 4). Folks streamed out of Washtenaw Community College's parking lots as they arrived around 4pm, making an impressive line from the campus all the way across the Dixboro bridge and up to Geddes Rd.

Everyone met up at Parker Mill Park for chanting, hot chocolate, some hard-to-hear speeches, and regrouping (I gather a few of the buses from Detroit were late). From there, the real march up Geddes to the governor's house began.

We had the street and were led by a group of five or so African American men. Dressed in their long dark wool coats and singing and chanting in preacher-style voices, it was certainly reminiscent of civil rights marches from Dr. King's day. They pulled me in, so I ended up at the head of the 1/2 mile up the hill to the governor's gated community.

"No justice, no peace."

"No democracy, no peace."

"Hey, hey, ho, ho: emergency managers have got to go"

"What do we want?" "Democracy!" "When do we want it?" "Now!"

Once there, folks grouped up to make some more speeches. Here a few other groups, dominated by Detroiters, used the Occupy movement's "mic check" tactics to relay their speeches. We lit our candles and made the mile or so walk back. Buses had arrived to shuttle those who needed it back to WCC.

It was a fine group of folks. Veterans of Benton Harbor protests were there, as were people from the tri-cities. High school kids were there with their teachers. UM students made a good showing as well. All were peaceful and reasonable -- even when folks from the gated community showed up to gawk.

I took my kids (9 and 12). They were surprised when I was the only (loud!) voice to answer the first bull-horned call of "Tell me what democracy looks like" with "This is what democracy looks like." But then others joined in and my kids relaxed (realizing I was not a wacko, but rather just slightly more "in the know" than those around us). The kids quickly got into the chants and sang "We Shall Overcome" as loudly as I did by the time we reach Parker Mill. My 9 year old even jumped into the front line with me and 'preachers' for a while.

While I have no hard and fast objections to MLK day being a day of service, I feel we, as a society, have softened its potential meaning a bit too much with this association. This is the first time I've taken my kids to a protest instead of a service project on this day, but it fostered good discussions for us. King and the civil rights movement in general have become sanitized and stripped of their confrontational and political messages. I wanted my kids to see this side of the movement and feel the responsibility to challenge as well as serve. My kids go to schools in Ypsilanti, a struggling public school system that is vulnerable to the emergency manager legislation. Their stake in it what this governor and this legislature does is potentially greater than mine. Today gave me an opportunity to say that to them fairly directly. And they sang. And the chanted. And they felt the power of the group.

My daughter's favorite sign (sorry I don't have a picture of it) read: This is Martin Luther King Jr Day, not King Snyder Day.

Arlington National Cemetary

2012-01-08T19:31:00.004-05:00

Owen really wanted to go but then got a little shy once there. I'm not sure what it was... maybe thinking too much about the number of people buried there? I, however, found it to be far more peaceful and, frankly, interesting, than I had expected. We had some nice views of the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol. We talked about war, assissinations, politics, and symbolism.

Dispatches from the Bar

2011-12-31T13:19:00.004-05:00

I've been at the hipster haven known as Woodruff's the last couple of nights for Mittenfest VI and I thought I'd report on two items of amusement:

1. Silly facial hair and kids who don't dance abound at this place. And in this land of vans and skinny jeans, I heard one guy actually say to his friends, "Don't you see him over there? He's the guy in plaid." It was just too much like trying to find somebody at a Dead show in a tie-dye to not get a good giggle out of it.

2. Then last night, I noticed that the guy holding up the wall next to Biscodo was not looking too hot, even though he continued to pull on his PBR. I couldn't tell if he was on the verge of an emotional or phsyical breakdown, but he was definitely not well. I nudged Dr. Friendly, who had joined our party, but he declared that we did not need to intervene until (if) the guy hit the floor. I was considering getting the dude a glass of water and encouraging him to lay off the beer but his friend appeared and seemed to talk him back into some less pained state so I let it go. Five minutes later, when the bands were changing over and Biscodo and Dr. Friendly had toddled off to the bar, this guy, apparently feeling very much better, started to chat me up.... as if nothing had happened. Okay.... I can play along:

"So, what's your name?"

"Georgina"

"What?"

"Georgina" (said very clearly)

"No (laughing), really, what's your name?"

"Yeah... well that's really my name and now I'm really going to go talk to someone else" (Thanks for being near by, Matt!)

Yeesh. Dude, lay off the... whatever the hell it was you were on last night.

The Power of Polo

2011-12-31T13:02:00.004-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I popped into a local restaurant to pick up my pizza. I slid up to the bar to claim my pie and found myself standing over the shoulder of man who was perched on one of the stools. I caught a whiff of his cologne. He smelled like my high school boyfriend. And that was pleasant. I let my nose float me back to the age of 16. Wanting to enjoy the sensation, I intentionally didn't let my gaze fall on the man sitting near me -- his physical form would most certainly ruin the wave of nostaglia since it would be unlikely that it was a 6'2" teenage boy with shiny brown hair and a hint of freckles sitting on that stool, or even anyone close to the handsome man that boy became ... I couldn't tune out the stranger's voice entirely, however, despite trying, and I heard him say to his buddy, "No, they're not asians, they're orientals..." Poof, wistful rememberances disappeared and I grabbed my pizza and fled.

Ally

2011-12-28T14:54:00.005-05:00

On my last flight, I slogged my way to the way back of the plane and hopped over a super cute dyke to claim my window seat. As I was shuffling in, she said, "thank you."

Heh?

She pointed at the "ally" button on the bag and said, sincerely, "thank you for that."

I was surprised -- never having had anyone comment on it before. Then, I stumbled over an answer as I overthought just what it was that this button says about who I am. Saying "you're welcome" seemed so weird...as if I believed I was wearing that button as some sort of act of benevolence toward others rather than as a statement about how I believe the world should work.

I finally did mumble out something. That out of the way, I found I really wanted to ask her how it felt to be on that plane, amongst a sea of people (including my own Eddie Bauer-style self), who suddenly (to me, anyway) looked profoundly str8. I wanted to ask her if she always mentioned it when she saw ally support. I wanted to know what she really thought of the button and if she carried any of the same conflictedness I did... To me, she was the most interesting looking person around, but then the holder of the middle seat plopped down between us and all discussion stopped.

Meeting New People... Or Not.

2011-12-20T14:51:00.004-05:00

I’ve gotten to a certain age where I’m a bit more set in my ways then is probably good for me. This means that whole groups of people are likely to be eliminated as potential friends right off the bat. You’re not very political? You smoke? You’re churchy? You hate cities? You drink cheap, yellow beer? You never went to college and, frankly, don’t see the point? You wear black socks with shorts? You love amusement parks? You would never go camping where there weren’t flush toilets available? Well, then, really, what’s the point? I know the folly of this way of thinking. I know that there are at least a few of you who would answer “yes” to some of these questions, yet we are friends. A couple of us are even close friends. You snuck through, apparently bringing with you enough other fine qualities to balance these black marks on your record or worming your way in before my thinking became so rigid. So, if you turned out to be okay, couldn’t others who presented, at least upon first glance, as not-a-chancers? Sigh. Unless I reform my evil ways, we will never know.

But you people have a role in this, too. As I sat in the bar the other night, chatting with someone who was an agreeable sort, the right (enough) age, and drinking good beer, I found myself writing this person off because of what you, my already-established, dear-to-me (yet somewhat flawed) social circle would think. Oh, not like you would tell me this person was inappropriate (see qualifying factors named above) or evil, but there was a style choice in the personal appearance of this candidate that would not have escaped notice, comment, and probably some mild ridicule. In other words, there are now too many voices in my head (mine and yours) telling me to not even bother. If I never make a new friend again, I’m blaming you, okay?

Verdict

2011-11-26T17:23:00.003-05:00

Well, my 1/2 share from Harvest Kitchen has run out. This is a prepared food CSA where they get your share from the farm and make it into meals that you pick up once a week. I had a Tuesday vegetarian share, which was helpful for getting through the weeks of super busy-ness this fall. But I won't be renewing.

While I felt like the ingredients were good, the quality of the preparation varied (too) greatly and several of the weeks the quantity was below what I expected. Only a couple of the dishes were true stinkers, but then only a couple of the dishes were outstanding. Most were best categorized as "okay" or "eh." It was frustrating to see some clear errors -- like fried rice made with hot rice instead of chilled, so it just mushed or sushi were the rice had no stickiness and the rolls were so loose that they disintegrated when you picked them up. The spice levels needed to go up on virtually all the dishes and several others just needed to cook longer in order for the flavors to come together. Probably their strongest category was salad dressings -- the Asian one, in particular, was excellent. But dressing just can't carry them in my book.

One benefit of having tried this experiment was that it gave the kids a new perspective on my cooking. They are used to my food and have taken it for granted, but now they know: I'm actually a decent cook. Now, if I only can use that to get them to help more in the kitchen...

The Lot

2011-11-06T20:06:00.015-05:00

A few weeks ago I joined up with a few friends to create a little experiment in urban farming. We threw some money into a hat (ok, really it was a paypal account) and bid on an empty lot in a tax foreclosure auction. Today we headed out to break ground and start planning. Most of us, like myself, won't be doing the farming ourselves, but a bit of digging and layering of ingredients for the first bed was certainly in order. So, here we are, checking things out on a gorgeous fall morning.

2011-11-06T19:47:00.004-05:00

Hey, it is fall in Michigan. So there are leaves to be raked... and then, of course, jumped into.

Also featured in this video: the boy's new haircut, which he got just in time for his 4th grade school pictures.

Trick or Treat 2011

2011-11-06T19:22:00.005-05:00

Halloween with a 9 and 12 year old and a bunch of their friends is pretty great, even if one of them had a bit of a cold.

Teenage-itis

2011-09-18T11:32:00.004-04:00

It has begun. The eye-rolling scoff has been around for a little while, but now it is accompanied by:

-announcements that she will have her earbuds in and be listening to her music on car rides longer than 10 minutes.

-a "S'up?" uttered in response to being introduced to new people.

-the radio in the living room being changed from NPR or CBC2 to some pop/dance music station at 95.5 that has song after song with identical rhythm tracks and callers screaming with excitement when the DJ answers their calls.

First Day

2011-09-18T11:20:00.004-04:00

E catches a bus at 7:00am, so it is a bit dark in the mornings. Boone and I walk her to the bus stop and then continue our first morning ramble.

O leaves at the much more civilized time of 8:20am. I don't think he fully appreciates the pleasant walk we usually have -- with the sun up and all that... (and yes, Boone gets his second walk of the day with us).

The Pantry Project

2011-09-18T10:22:00.007-04:00

I have pantry issues. As an overly-busy, somewhat experimental, very scattered, and rather impulsive cook, I have built up a pantry that is just too unwieldy for our current needs. I buy bulgar at the coop only to discover a week later that I already had bulgar, for example. I have four kinds of oatmeal on the shelves. There are more than a few outdated things in the back and, of course, there are those exotic condiments and such that snuck in somehow and are unlikely to ever be consumed by this family.

This problem is only going to get worse, I suspect, since I signed up for a prepared foods CSA for this fall. I'm going to be cooking even less often, which means I will be even more out of touch with what is going in the pantry (and the freezers, for that matter) and the turnover is likely to be even slower on the non-essential items.

So.... My goal this fall is to plan menus not from the food porn magazines that arrive at my house or the tempting recipes friends post, but based on at least one (significant) item from the pantry. And when I buy bulk items going forward (much of my shopping happens at the coop), I'm going to measure and buy just what I need for the one recipe I'm planning to make. I'll still keep a good supply of staples -- TJ's refried beans and pineapple salsa, cereal, pad thai fixins', peanut butter, chips, dried beans, and rice, and pasties and bread in freezer -- but focus will be on the things we consistently move through quickly.

As a bit of inspiration and accountability, I've included the "before" images!

Please Stop Telling Me Our Schools Suck

2011-08-26T20:12:00.009-04:00

Apparently yet another report has come out showing that the middle and high schools here in Y-town are terrible. I think I've run through all the stages of grief about local public schools at this point, but then I find myself just feeling pissed today -- pissed that we now live in a world where we test the hell out of kids (acting as if these scores some how let us objectively rank and compare schools) so that districts like mine look like shit. And then we act like it is the school district's fault. I'm pretty sure that we know better, that we know that we don't really even need to waste all those weeks (and money) testing kids (my then 3 rd grader had 3 weeks of standardized testing last year!). All we really need to do is look at the socioeconomic profile. The darker and poorer the district, the "worse" they are (on these tests).

Okay, you and I know this and that is not my point anyway. My point is that I'm pissed that we trot these tests out and it feels like I (as a privileged parent) am supposed to look at the results and pull my not-brown and not-poor kids out...because I can. The whole message to parents is "run if you can." But run where? The subtext seems to be if I have a good student and the means, I'm mortgaging the kid's future by not pulling them. The message to parents like me seems to be: "it's okay, we know you like the idea of public schools but of course you can't endanger the future of your little snowflake..." Here you go privileged people, a signed hall pass getting you out the gym class the rest of the schmucks have to take.

I'm also pissed because a district can try with all its might to create a counter narrative (value of diversity, rich music program, community partnerships, etc.), but the scores will undercut those messages every time. And then they will excuse families that leave "because the public schools are so bad."

Suck it up, people. Public is public. We all have a stake (admittedly not to the same extent) in the schools -- whether or not we have kids, whether or not our kids go to public school. Get in the game. To that end, I'm going to lobby for the newly proposed state law mandating that parents get time off to attend their kids school meetings be expanded to allow ALL employees up to 8 hours of paid hours per month to put into the schools. It would be a start.

Hints at what is to come...

2011-08-26T19:47:00.004-04:00

As E and I were headed out the door for an appointment early one morning this week, she stopped and looked me up and down....

"Why are you wearing a dress?"

"I'm going in to work today."

Scoff. (It is a kind of dramatic exhale...often accompanied by an eye roll.)

"I would never wear a dress to work. I probably wouldn't even wear a skirt."

"I'm not sure what you are objecting to, it is probably the easiest thing I could have put on... one piece, not even a zipper, and it is kind of like wearing pajamas to work, actually."

"Well, the colors are good, if only it was a shirt or something."

"Well you could wear leggings with it and call it a tunic..."

Scoff.

Summer Eats

2011-08-16T23:01:00.003-04:00

Farmers' market season is here and here is what we are cooking...

E has always loved cucumbers. We got a cold soup at Zingerman's once that was lovely and we recreated it at home. I made it again last night. The other kids swirling around the house wouldn't even try it, so E and I happily ate all of it yesterday and today.

Cold Cucumber Soup

4 medium cukes, peeled and seeded
2 cups buttermilk
1 1/2 cups sour cream
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
1-2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon fresh mint, chopped
salt
pepper

Whir up 3 of the cukes and buttermilk in the food processor and transfer to a large bowl. Grate the last cuke and add it along with all the other ingredients to the bowl. Stir well. Chill for a while.

Heirloom Tomato, Feta, and Mint salad

4-6 heirloom tomatoes (ideally a mixture of red, green, yellow, striped, black, etc.)
1/4 of fist-sized red onion, thinly sliced
1-2 tablespoons of fresh mint, chopped
1/2 cup of feta, crumbled
juice of 1 lemon
drizzle of olive oil
salt
pepper

I like to cut my tomatoes into wedges. You can take the bite out of the onions by tossing them in very hot water for a minute. Gently mix everything together and let it sit/marinate for 30 minutes or so.

Cottage Trip 2011

2011-08-14T21:40:00.006-04:00

The kids and I headed up to the UP for the end of July/early August. We celebrated Owen's 9th birthday with homemade apple pie and black walnut ice cream, spent a million hours on the beach and in warm Lake Michigan, saw a double rainbow, and went adventuring.

In Marquette we checked out the art fair, got turned away from Presque Isle park because an agitated young bull moose had taken up occupancy for the day, swam in Superior, and got ice cream at Jilbert's. The high point of the trip, however, was turning around to check out a sculpture garden called Lakenenland. The kids were asleep at this point, Emma rallied to take in a bit of it, but mostly, just my dad and I got to enjoy it. The park is free, whimsical, and political -- a damn fine combination, in my book. Plenty of social and political ideas inspired the art, but apparently the artist/owner of the land has had some run-ins with local authorities and for them, the artist had posted a "no trespassing" sign.

The other great adventure was a return trip to Grand Marais to climb the log slide/dune in Pictured Rocks and otherwise explore this beautiful area of beaches, dunes, rocks, and waterfalls.

Summer Beer Fest 2011

2011-07-26T22:28:00.001-04:00

I went with my dad again and we hung mostly with Kristen and Natalie (and Willa!). Along the way I ran into a couple of colleagues and a number of other friends and acquaintances.

My notes, as always, are not terribly useful and run from “um, no” and “gack” to “eh” to “bottle that!”

I was actually disappointed in the offerings of some of the big heavies in Michigan brewing. Founders didn’t bring much new/interesting, neither did Bell’s, Dragonmead, or Arcadia. Dark Horse made an interesting play for “top dog” by having booths in every tent. Their Smells Like Weed IPA was delicious – but then it always has been, but I didn’t see anything else in their vast offerings that I needed to try. I hope they don't get to too big for their britches…

Short’s brought many beers and I was delighted to see among them Dan’s Pink Skirt Ale (bottle it!). I’d had it once at Ashley’s a few years ago and couldn’t find it anywhere after that. It was hoppy and lovely (tho too much bitter finish for Dad).

In the “decent beer from places new to me” category, I’d put the Black IPA from Kalamazoo’s Old Peninsula’s Brewpub and Black Magic RyPA from Sparta’s Michigan Beer Cellar. We also had (surprisingly) pleasant selections from Benton Harbor’s The Livery but I failed to note what they were!

I am now realizing that I had several black IPAs. This is a trend that I can get into. In addition to what I’ve already mentioned, Original Gravity from Milan also had a nice one.

And finally, what you really want to know… Worst Beer of the Evening! I declare a tie between the gluten free (I know, I know) Bees Knees Honey Ale from Old Hat Brewery in Lawton and Smokin’ Hatter Smoked IPA from New Holland. On the latter, I leave you with Natalie’s reaction: “Ick, why would you get that?” Ah, the adventure…

Quit Fantasies

2011-07-20T14:34:00.003-04:00

It is low-level frustrating to be a new department chair. You are stepping into a bunch of different situations that are already in process and trying to take over control...usually only to learn that what you thought was going on is either way behind or far ahead of where things actually are. That is actually okay -- frustrating, but not deadly.

The problem I am wading through now, however, falls into the category of "the important stuff" -- the stuff I don't want to fuck up, the stuff this job is really about. This problem falls under the heading of "faculty retention" and it is not going well. The faculty member has been lovely to deal with, both open and patient. The administration...well, let's just say xx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx x xxxx (edited for job security purposes), everyone is working their own agendas while still trying to look like they care, and the only one who has come up with any actual ideas has been me. Me? Yes. The brand new chair who has almost no experience upon which to draw. And everyone seems just a little too happy to tell me why my ideas can't work and not at all willing to actually suggest any of their own or figure out the right labels to apply or boxes to check to make the intent of what I suggested happen.

So yes, today, I'm having fantasies of telling them all to just go stuff it. But I'm not going to, because I'm not going to screw this faculty member. I'll get the deal to happen, even though it is fairly apparent that I have very little actual power because I don't control the right resources. And then I will no doubt trudge on to the next crisis, but there will be some trailing bitterness that will trudge on with me. It didn't have to be this way and, frankly, it was a shitty way to treat a new chair... (another edit here, recommended by a loyal Yesterday supporter).

Inside my brain...

2011-07-15T19:19:00.004-04:00

Writing when one is supposed to be writing is often incredibly difficult. Sometimes, to be honest, I'm just running out the clock -- unable to give up on a project that is not working because "this is the time to write." Time is certainly important, but it never ensures the productivity. I may have some time, but when it comes around I often find I lack the energy or focus or (even if it sounds a bit trite) inspiration to get it done. And then I don't. And then I resent the times that are full of other things that make it impossible to write, fooling myself into thinking, "If only I didn't have to pick up the kids or sit in this meeting I would be finishing that introduction!" Yeah, right. Maybe I would, more likely, I wouldn't... It can be a very defeating cycle.

But then there are moments like those I found tonight where energy and schedule aligned completely unexpectedly and unplanned and the introduction that looked like it was going to have to sit until next week actually gets re-written. I feel a little bit like a kid just learning to ride a bike: "Wheeeeeee, I'm DOING it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Running commentary on summer reading

2011-07-15T18:19:00.003-04:00

I can't find my copy of Straight Man -- the book I thought I should be reading as a newly minted department chair. Instead, I picked up Richard Russo's 2009 That Old Cape Magic, which is less focused on university life but does feature a pair of outrageous but outrageously realistic English professor parents of the main character (who is also an academic, but a far less insightfully drawn one). The book has been an enjoyable read, but having read a couple of his books already and having read SM a couple of times, his obsessions with Cape Cod and people falling into bushes to create cathartic moments isn't exactly fresh.

What has made this read particularly fun is the trail of bright blue post-it notes left behind by a previous reader. On the dozen or so notes scattered throughout the book, this reader expressed doubt ("an endowed chair. Hmm."), asked questions ("are we hard-wired to think we're fucking up?"), offered some criticism ("predictably irrational"), rooted for some characters over others ("I agree with Joy."), and just plain reacted ("wow," "laughed out loud"). The note-writer found Russo's portrayal of marriage overly cynical and expressed disapproval that professors would "look down on lowly teachers." Seems like someone young, perhaps?

I resisted paging ahead to find the notes once I recognized the pattern emerging, but now that I am down to the final pages (which I am reluctant to finish since I don't have another pleasure read at hand), I did peek. Sigh. No blue sticky notes commenting on the ending... Did they like it? Did they find it a worthwhile read? Why did they read it? Did they mean to leave the sticky notes on purpose?

And yes, I'm considering adding my own string of comments throughout the book -- some responding to the text, some to the blue sticky note writer. I think it'll be fun.

A little freaky...

2011-07-08T11:07:00.005-04:00

A couple of years ago, during a particularly productive fall, I was invited to give a talk in Irvine, CA. Accepting that allowed me to tack on a day to do some quick "grab 'n go" research in San Diego, where I'd heard there was a particularly rich collection of local YWCA papers. As has become my habit, I swooped in and spent a furious 5 hours or so scanning everything that seemed remotely interesting. When I got home, the semester was heating up, my cyst flared, and things just generally fell apart for me. In other words, I did even get a chance to file what I had collected, let alone do any sort of analysis.

Fast forward two years, and I finally pulled what I had collected back out and decided to work on one of the major themes in the records: the impact of building, maintaining, and updating a downtown building on a social service/social change organization. This meshed with the work I'd been doing on the Women's Building in San Francisco, so I threw them together into a conference proposal for the Society for American City and Regional Planning History this coming fall. I'm now at work on that paper, particularly the YWCA section.

All through the collections are snippets of notes and a grant proposal for researching the Y's history produced by a particular woman. Obviously an academic of some sort, I finally decided this morning to look her up... only to find that she died just a couple of weeks ago. Her obituary ran just 3 days ago. Is that a little creepy? I've known her name for over two years, but only today did I look her up? And she just died? Hmmm... hard to shake these thoughts as I work through papers she collected and drafts she marked up for editing...

Lessons from the first week

2011-07-07T11:43:00.006-04:00

1. There are a million little "situations," none of which am I fully up to speed on. This leaves me with the impression that everything is moving really quickly and I must paddle hard to get into the current and not tip over... This is a bit frightening because this is JULY. This is the deadest month there is in the world of academe. If it is this bad now, how bad will it be in April???

2. My office is bare and institutional. I didn't do much when I was interim, but it is time to get my brain around the fact that I'll be in this office for three years. Time to get some art and a comfy chair or couch that isn't a scary dust collector.

3. Email makes this job harder. There are usually many vaguely parallel conversations going on over email and rarely are the right people connected to each other. People going off half-cocked, sending poorly-informed messages sent to people all over the campus needs to stop. I'm sure phone calls can do the same kind of damage, but it is on email that I'm seeing it.

4. There are few big decisions to be made. My life is going to be minutiae, it seems.

The Little Things...

2011-06-30T22:40:00.003-04:00

I have a splinter in the bottom of my right foot. It is annoying. I cannot, even with my relatively good flexibility, reach it as well as I need to in order to examine and remove it. It sounds really stupid, but these are the moments when I feel really alone. Nope, I'm not worrying over dying alone or anything as grand as that...I'm feeling frustrated over the lack of an adult who would be readily available at 10:45pm to take my stinky foot into hir hands and dig out a tiny (but annoying!) little splinter.

Decisions, decisions

2011-06-30T10:11:00.004-04:00

As I move along in my career, the decisions seem to get weightier and weightier. This is no great surprise, I know, but as I take on new administrative roles, I'm trying to get more intentional in my process -- especially since the decisions I'm making now can have a pretty direct and dramatic impact on people's careers (and not just my own).

The one that is weighing on my mind today (and kept working its way into my dreams last night) involves an important hire. The path is not clear to me and seems even less clear to my committee. Even though I thought I had sorted out an answer/direction, I have to work within the structure of a committee. Thankfully, they are fairly malleable when given clear, um, "suggestions." Apparently, much of what my job is as chair is to make decisions and then run them by the committee for "input." What I have come to realize through working with this committee in particular is that too many open-ended questions allows for crazy answers to emerge. It is actually a lot like parenting, give them (committee, kids) choice, but not endless choices.

"Would you like a peanut butter sandwich or egg salad in your lunch?"

Having figured this out is good, but implementing it consistently is still a challenge. Yesterday, for example, we went straight from the last interview into a discussion of the candidates (scheduling a separate meeting was not workable). This meant I did not have time to strategize on my own and figure out a couple of options to offer them to structure the discussion. And the results of said meeting ranged from unclear to downright distracting/unworkable. Two people kept looping back to a solution that has absolutely been taken off the table by the provost -- she won't do it, but they won't give it up!

In moments like these I'm surprised at the me that emerges. Transparency be damned, I'm maneuvering for an interim solution so that we can leave the table and I can do the real work of figuring out the next step. Then I can come back to them with an appropriate version of peanut butter vs. egg salad for them vote on. Yesterday's temporary solution came from the classic, "why don't you let me write up this and that from our discussion and take it to the provost for her input?" And the sheep said, "bah" (yes). I did send them the write up so they could suggest revisions. They didn't, of course. So off I go to "the smoke-filled back room" to plot and plan with those in power after spending several hours plotting and planning on my own. I feel both a sense of accomplishment and a sense of revulsion.

Momentum

2011-06-05T21:20:00.005-04:00

So, quite unintentionally, I've been reading two books back-to-back that both deal with the angst of women who married, had two kids, and found themselves in lives that were not what they thought they would be.

I started with Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road, but put it aside for a while and read Stephanie Staal's Reading Women. Now I'm back to finishing up RR. They are very different books: one fiction, one a memoir; one published in 1961, one in 2011. The struggles of the women, however, are strikingly similar to each other and to feelings I recognize in myself. Most of it is a sense of loss of personal identity and one that the men connected to the women do not experience. One would hope that Reading Women, especially with the (overly) ambitious subtitle of "how the great books of feminism changed my life," would have some pithy solutions -- or even observations -- but it really doesn't. The message of both books seems to be "it is complicated, there is no right answer, and since you won't really figure it out, the best you can do is to muddle through and try not to be so hard on yourself" (especially in April's case) I suspect there is also supposed to be some message about the role of society in all this, but it is present but surprisingly not active in the stories.

I don't, of course, really need anyone to tell me that life as a 30-something mother is tough. What I have been thinking about is the role of momentum in shaping this experience. Motherhood interrupts the momentum one has developed as an adult and creates its own forces that, once rolling, are hard to check.

Last week, I was trying to explain to a friend that I was thinking it was time to get more engaged with my career. As someone who has recently left corporate world to seek greater validation in other parts of her life, she stared at me with a certain disbelief? surprise? disdain? I think what she heard me saying was that I was going to work more, which is most decidedly not my goal. I just want to use my time differently. I feel like I spend and enormous amount of energy trying to restart work that I have let grow cold, especially research. Deadlines and trips that provide research opportunities force me to frantically try to pull my shit together and while that frenzy results in a decent (though not outstanding) quality and quantity of 'deliverables' I have found myself thinking that if I could just keep plodding along and stay engaged, it would be so much easier and rewarding. To do this, I will have to counter the frantic-ness of academic life during crunch times at the beginning and end of every term and bring some more discipline into my summer work.

From there, it occurred to me that there are some other big and important areas of my life that need a similar treatment. They need better shape and structure. They need to be moving forward and that movement needs to be established well enough that the inevitable forces that crop up and get in the way can't derail the whole project.

How intimates fight...

2011-06-05T21:12:00.005-04:00

Something about this passage rang (a little too) true for me:

"Then the fight went out of control. It quivered their arms and legs and wrenched their faces into shapes of hatred, it urged them harder and deeper into each other's weakest points, showing them cunning ways around each other's strongholds and quick chances to switch tactics, feint, and strike again. In the space of a gasp for breath it sent their memories racing back over the years for old weapons to rip the scabs off old wounds; it went on and on."

-Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road

No, thanks.

2011-05-31T17:07:00.003-04:00

Today's email contained this gem: an invitation to give a 45-minute lecture on "women's issues" in the "history and development" of North America. For free. Um, yeah, don't think I'll be accepting that one. How would one even begin to organize a meaningful talk on that subject to be presented in that short a time? And for no compensation, why would one even try?

Impressed

2011-05-13T13:34:00.002-04:00

As I write today, I'm listening to a symphony that Beethoven composed after he had gone completely deaf. And it is pretty amazing -- even without the deafness factored in there.

Since I am writing (revising) this week, it got me to thinking: Could I write this article without being able to read what I had written? Could I do it without looking at any notes? I'd be relying only on the pieces/details I had managed to store in my memory...relying on only impressions of how well I had explained this or that point... Yeesh.

Exhaling

2011-05-02T09:08:00.002-04:00

April was blur of work and logistical struggles. It feels like everything came to a screeching halt over the weekend, especially yesterday. On Friday, I turned in final grades. On Sunday, I helped with the Bike Ypsi Spring Ride and Festival (for which I ended up doing waaaay more leg work than intended at such a busy time in my work life) and then rushed off to graduation.

There is certainly relief at having classes be finished for the year but my schedule is not really easing up as I look forward into June. The next 4-6 weeks will remain full of work between library director interviews, interviews for the student group I direct, and preparation for the Berks conference. But now highest on the priority list, especially for the next two weeks, will be the girl watching article. My goal? Send off the revised manuscript by May 17 (when the first of the library director candidates should be arriving). Yikes! Better get to it...

The Unexpected.

2011-04-06T21:15:00.003-04:00

Tonight I went to the banquet for an award that I did not win. I knew that I had been nominated and that someone else had won and that's fine, the individual who won is wonderful. It is an important night on my campus for many reasons and I was happy to go. I scored some earrings in the silent auction and had a pleasant dinner with some colleagues. I was also delighted to be there to honor a former student (and now a representative in the state House) who had won the other major award of the evening for her work in the community. This wonderful student, someone I have written about before, could not actually be there to accept as she is with a bipartisan commission of state legislators visiting Turkey at the moment. Instead, she taped her acceptance speech, which she opened by thanking the key professors, administrators, students, and fellow legislators who had helped her in all she has achieved. From there, she gracefully moved into discussing the guiding principles of her work as an advocate for women, for workers, etc., etc.... and then she thanked me. She thanked me big time -- singled me out from all the amazing people she had met as a student at our institution -- and credited me with challenging her, inspiring her, and introducing her to her role model for creating change: Ella Baker. I am so stinkin' proud of this woman and that she would share some of her accomplishments with me...in this setting...on this night. Well, I'm damn near overwhelmed. And yes, it kind of feels like I won the award after all.

The Rite of OBOS

2011-03-23T21:46:00.003-04:00

Last night one of the co-founders of the Boston Women's Health Book Collective visited campus and I went to hear her presentation. On my way in, I bought the most recent copy of Our Bodies, Our Selves (I already own three other editions, including two from the 1970s). Judy Norsigian's talk romped through a host of women's health issues -- troubling practices that persist despite ample research to the contrary, the power of drug companies, global issues, cultural issues... It was a powerful testament to the continuing need for advocacy work around women's health -- the impetus for the creation of the Boston Women's Health Collective in the first place.

After the talk, I asked Norsigian to sign the book for E. When E found the book on her bed tonight, she was initially deeply skeptical based on its pink cover (as was I, I must admit). Then I told her the story of how this book came to be and how it has been updated, translated, and disseminated around the world. She got much more interested. I told her that this book was political, that it represented important advocacy work that had drastically changed women's relationship to the health system in this country and was continuing to do that even today. She thanked me for the book -- and really seemed to mean it. I told her that her grandmother had given me an earlier copy of the book many years ago, but this one was hers...and I showed her the inscription. "She signed this for me?" she said excitedly. She loved it.

Then I told her that some of the book would probably not be of much interest to her right now -- like the section on menopause. At the mention of menopause, she told me to leave but I kept going and told her there were other sections that would be much more relevant... just then I leafed past the "teens and birth control" section, which I mentioned might be of more interest. She did not tell me to leave then, but I left anyway. I had said what I wanted to say. And when I peeked in later, she was contentedly curled up on her bed with her dog, reading away.

Really? But... but... but...

2011-03-23T21:22:00.003-04:00

A casual conversation with a senior colleague in the hall a week and a half ago has got me turned inside out. He is a relatively new full professor (which means he has not yet gone into hibernation like our older fulls) and he asked when I would be coming up for promotion. I told him that I was thinking about asking to go forward next year (which would mean, after the year+ process, I might be promoted in Sept. 2013). He asked about my current projects and suggested a somewhat different strategy than I have been pursuing -- including starting the process to come up for full in a few weeks, when the senior members of the department will meet to vote on such things.

I was very resistant, feeling that it would all be a bit safer in another year, once I had a book contract firmly in hand -- especially since there is no time pressure for this promotion, unlike coming up for tenure. He made the argument that I could do it now and be making full professor money with full professor privileges for doing the same work I'm doing now. Hmmm...

So, on top of other angst in my life, I threw "what to do with my career" into the mix. I actually pulled out my c.v. on Thursday and spent a long time tweaking the white space and thinking about the work represented there. Then I annotated it, printed it off, and stuck it in the box of my colleague. I challenged him to give me an honest assessment of what I look like on paper. After all, if people like him aren't eager to push my case forward, there is no case. I cannot be my own advocate.

Well, he thought it/I looked solid as is and would be "outstanding" if the "revise and resubmit" I already have from American Quarterly turned into an acceptance, something that could theoretically happen between now and the middle of summer when my materials would be sent out to external reviewers. So now he is taking my c.v. to my other senior colleagues in the discipline. But he is a persuasive guy with five times as much energy as any of the others. I can't really kid myself, if he tells them he wants to put me forward, the others will most likely say yes.

It is just now sinking in for me that the email I sent tonight, giving him the okay to put my c.v. in front of the others, is pretty much equivalent to me doing the formal ask to go forward... In other words, I think I just asked to be promoted -- after having not really thought much about it (or a particular time frame for it) until just this past fall. I've just been plugging away at this and that (which somehow added up to 16 conference presentations since 2004!), publishing things when the right venue appeared, and continuing to work in a very unsystematic way on a sprawling second book. Could that really lead to a promotion? Considering the agony of tenure/assistant professor promotion it is really hard to believe...

Why aren't there alternatives to skipping?

2011-03-10T09:28:00.005-05:00

So... maybe the girl could skip ANOTHER grade. I'm stewing about this today. In her typical, unflappable way, her response is "cool, when do I take their tests?" My response is much more complicated (witness my last post). Today, however, I'm finding myself pissed -- pissed at a system that is so inflexible, that fetishes grade levels, that is so lacking in creativity. (I am not alone in this, just read this post/comment thread from Edutopia.)

When I contacted a teacher about curriculum in her classes and where my daughter and kids like her (those who are highly motivated in this subject), she accused me of advocating tracking. I'm having a hard time not seeing that as a direct attempt to shut me down. The challenge is, and this is what I've been asking for all along, is how to provide just some -- one or two -- opportunities for my kids to work with a motivated peer group and have the full attention of a teacher, while staying in the 'regular' school. E likes band and art. She has a pretty diverse group of friends. She is at ease in this school. I do value these things but there is no getting around the fact that she is bored and stuck in classrooms that just lump kids together without any regard to ability, motivation, or experience. In these situations, my kid gets A's because she manages to turn in all her work and is quiet. And she knows this. She wants those A's to mean more.

When I was in 5-7th grades, we lived in Virginia in a huge school district that had a much wider range of students than the sheltered world of Midland public schools from which I had come. I was identified as "Gifted and Talented" somehow and experienced three different programs during my time there. One year, there were a handful of days where we were taken out of regular classes to attend a district-wide day of activities. This was lame because I knew no one (I was in elementary school and didn't even know the other kids from my school) and it wasn't a sustained program, just a series of one-offs. The next year, there was a short time in the afternoon once every other week where we were pulled out of class to go work on projects with other kids from around the (large) school. I learned about flow-charts and rudimentary computer programming, we built electrical circuits, and stuff that was cool, but again, there was not rapport with the other students or the revolving adults who lead the projects.

The third model, however, had a significant impact on me. In 7th grade at a gigantic, overflowing school, I spent 4th period in a "special" class with less than 20 other kids. I can still recite poetry I learned in that class. I designed and adminstered my first survey. I learned the mathmatical explanation for "magic" tricks... Projects aside, it was neat, it was special, and I got to know a diverse range of students who made me a better student because they were better students -- and that compensated for the shortcomings of my other classes. There were four teachers for the class, so each quarter we had someone new who were excited to be there because they got to try out kooky projects or teach about their passions to a small, motivated group. I certainly hope it was as rewarding for them as it was for me.

Okay, that was many years, er, decades, ago, but surely there must be some models out there for creating that kind of experience for kids -- even if it is just for 50 minutes a day. And I don't just mean the kids who test well. Why can't we borrow a page from the "free schooling" movement and get kids to pick something that interests them and then get them a peer group and teacher that will encourage them in this?

I tried some of these ideas out on the principal of the middle school and got nowhere (E calls her "weak-minded") so now I'm laying this challenge in front of the school board and the district adminstration today. We'll see. In the meantime, I still need to figure out if I should cut my losses with this school and jump through the hoops to move E straight to 9th grade (at the ripe old age of 12 1/2)...

Educational Ranting

2011-03-02T10:38:00.004-05:00

I'm feeling pretty stewy these days when it comes to K-12 education. Our local school district is a mess and I'm close enough to it -- knowing a couple of board members, being on a school committee, attending as many PTO meetings as I can stomach, and watching my kids go through it -- that there is something every week that sends me into a fit. On the state level the funding system that was supposed to equalizes districts (but has not) and more threatened cuts makes the picture for the majority of school districts in the state pretty bleak.

I'm a pretty firm believer in public education and I put my kids where my mouth is. The problem is, as I said, the current crunch that can only get worse before it gets better is going to fuck things up for my kids. While the system is dissolving into crisis (where something like 60% of the districts in the state are in serious debt), my kids are in 3rd and 7th grade. Even if we fix the funding system and rework districts, pedagogies, and institutions within 5 years, we've screwed the kids who are currently in the system. Consequently, I think it is totally acceptable to run up huge amounts of debt to improve things in the short term while we work on those longer term solutions. The governor does not agree. He (a multi-millionaire) is taking a $1 annual salary from the state, which he seems to think justifies a budget that reduces K-12 funding approximately $800/student. That's his idea of sharing the burdens of our poor economy. I have my anger as a 'community member' pretty well sorted out, even if I have not yet found the right channel into which I can direct that anger.

My other role, however, is as 'parent' and that has me rolling around with much less direction. Our school system needs to do more to hang on to the bright kids. I am deeply concerned about what happens to the culture of the school when the motivated kids with motivated parents pull out because the short term prognosis is so grim. But, having just received more reports about E's stunningly good scores on the big standardized tests and looked at the unimaginative curriculum and overstuffed classrooms of her school, I have to wonder if I'm sacrificing her opportunities in the interest of my larger political beliefs. This is somewhat more pressing with this kid because she is rather Lisa Simpson-like. She likes to excel within the structure of school. She figures out exactly what she needs to do (no more) and does it and then basks in the good grades. Getting her to do extra "just to learn" or "for her own good" doesn't hold much appeal for her. She'd rather read fantasy novels.

So...tomorrow I'm meeting with her principal and the academic counselor at her middle school to hear what they have to say about all this. I'm going to ask them to give us -- and the others like us -- a reason to stay. Frankly, I'm not expecting much. The elementary schools are pretty good, but once kids hit puberty, the schools become obsessed with behavior (which is often times what is being graded) and all energy seems to shift to those who are academically or behaviorally at the bottom. When it comes to kids 12 and over, the district has been in a race to the bottom.

Digital Me

2011-03-01T12:16:00.008-05:00

Logging on to the social networks has been rather strange of late. For the last two weeks, I've been following the news of national and state politics through FB links provided by friends. I appreciate seeing the depressing reports of attacks on women and unions framed by the wise words of my lefty friends. It has made it a bit easier to take by reminding me that while the world "out there" is scary, I am not alone in my disgust and outrage. The odd bit about having spent so much time on FB recently is that interspersed with posts on the violence in Libya, attempts to slash funding for Planned Parenthood, and drastic cuts to the state's already pitiful education budget are updates on the inane bits my and my friends' lives. The absurdity of this has actually been comforting and I've appreciated FB more in these weeks than perhaps ever before.

The 'magic moment' is probably coming to an end, however. I've had a good run with FB, but now more and more of my extended family are finding me there. I've also had close encounters will students who know people I know. I'd prefer to keep FB confined to people with whom I have to censor little in my life, but unless I go more deeply underground (a la Dickish McBastard), this can't last and the idea of managing everyone with lists and settings that seem to get changed periodically by the powers that be at FB holds no interest for me. Ah well, for now cousins will just have to languish unacknowledged in my "friend request" folder while I milk this for a bit longer. I'm just not ready to give it up.

Looking forward to the day when...

2011-02-14T12:30:00.002-05:00

I'm looking forward to the day when the most notable aspect -- and most consistent identifying feature -- of a candidate for an academic job in any field outside of Women's Studies will not be her gender. Referring to a candidate as "the female" while using actual names of the male candidates is not acceptable. Assuming that a female candidate should go to lunch with the women in the department merely because they share a gender is insulting to all of us involved. Watching the good old boys pat themselves on the back for offering a job to a woman when they had men in the pool is nauseating. Pointing out to them that this is unacceptable and having them respond, "but we like redheads!" is... well, you see where I'm headed.

2011-02-12T09:36:00.003-05:00

Cool as a cucumber, E set off to take the ACT this morning. I don't remember freaking out about these big standardized tests, but I do remember feeling like I should manifest some serious anxiety and that was a form of anxiety in and of itself. Apparently my demons have not been transmitted to the girl. Her attitude? "Eh, I've done these before." Such an awesome kid.

Losing (some of) the Noise

2011-01-31T20:30:00.004-05:00

My experiment this term is "no-email Thursdays." I'm not telling my colleagues (yet) and I'm only cutting myself off from work email. Of the four Thursdays I've encountered so far, I managed to stay true for three of them. The week before last, I forgot. Habit kicked in and I checked and somewhere in the back and forth of History scheduling minutiae with a colleague it clicked...this was exactly the kind of time suck I was trying to avoid. The other three Thursdays were beautiful, productive things and no one died when I did not answer or initiate email for one day.

Here is what I've learned:

1. a day in the middle of the week is probably the BEST day to stay off email. Most of my colleagues teach on Thursdays and are therefore quite busy. They seem to assume that if I don't answer it is because I am similarly busy (I think) -- only I don't teach on Thursday (delicious, delicious Thursdays!). Friday or Monday we have the (fiction of the) weekend and people are twitchy about getting answers before people "go away" for the weekend (altho many don't go away...see point number 3 below). I can always mop up whatever crisis has exploded on Friday morning and not leave anyone hanging as we head into the weekend.

2. I have to prepare. I have to go into my email on Wed night and pull out whatever I need for the work I have planned for Thursday. This means I have a chance to answer late-in-the-day emails and I HAVE to plan my Thursday. Guilt and control freak tendencies go down and productivity goes up.

3. I want more. I want no email weekends. What I am learning, however is that my colleagues have pretty much lost all sense of boundaries. One of them sent an email asking for a discipline vote on something at 8pm on Friday and then was back on line early Saturday afternoon complaining that only one person had weighed in. (I saw all of these on Saturday evening but was so annoyed by it I waited to answer until Sunday night -- should have waited 'til Monday!))
This job is already severely lacking in boundaries as anyone who has ever gone anywhere with me and knows that I carry a book (or three) with me pretty much constantly knows. Why can't we have weekends? I'm not going to pretend that I don't work on weekends. I do. But at least let me stick to doing the reading and grading that is necessary and keep the piddly requests and political crap for a weekday? And then there are the students... I'm thinking email allows us just way too much access to each other and that we all need to retreat to our separate corners. Email, for example, allowed me to learn that a student in my methods class only today found the instructions for the paper that is due tomorrow. Really, do I need to know that my students take my assignments so seriously that they only start them the night before? No, I don't. I'm sure they do this. I'm just sayin' that I don't want to know!

Anyway, the upshot is that no-email Thursdays are pretty damn awesome and I intend to keep them up and look for ways to further limit the noise and improve my focus.

Santa Trap

2010-12-26T19:47:00.007-05:00

In a fit of an 8 year old's doubt, O decided to set a "Santa trap" (see pic at left) on Christmas eve. Unlike the kids who resist the people who tell them there is not a Santa Claus, the boy -- the product of a household that has never perpetuated the Santa myth -- was determined to prove that Santa didn't exist. He decided that he would rig the little fake tree in the living room so that it would rattle if someone tried to put presents under it. His assumption was that it would not rattle and therefore all the deluded believers (that would be the kids at school, I'm guessing) would be proved wrong and would stop talking about this Santa crap. But then his desire for presents kicked in. What if the Santa trap kept anyone from putting out more presents for him? Conflicted, the boy finally when to bed, announcing that what ever happened, happened and he would not be sleeping in the hallway trying to catch anyone. And he woke up happy to find treats in his stocking and a number of delightful and thoughtfully chosen presents for him from... me :)

Kids trying out new dress up duds from Value World (left) and Emma passing our presents at my brother and sister-in-law's house (right).

Tis the Season...for tromping

2010-12-26T19:20:00.008-05:00

O and Boone playing in an icy creek bed.

In a new nature preserve, there is evidence of the land's earlier use as a dumping spot.

The pond was frozen. Next time? Ice skates!

O makes ice balls for Boone to chase.

The early season snow has hung around and now that the kids are on break, I've been taking them out to explore. We found woods and a frozen pond on Christmas eve and then played on the icy banks of the Huron River in Frog Island and Riverside parks on Christmas afternoon. Both adventures were lessons in the awesomeness of winter, kids in nature, dogs with kids, and ice (and a very good counterpoint to overabundance of plastic stuff this time of year...):

Better now...

2010-12-19T21:39:00.002-05:00

Finished the grading for one class. Whew. Two more over the next few days and then I'll be done. While I spent large chunks of the weekend grading, I also managed a grown-up dinner out with people, a lazy morning, a party, and even the HoliGAYs Extravaganza at the Blind Pig. I didn't, however, see my kids other than for a brief moment on Friday. I can't seem to put all the parts together these days and having the kids at W's meant that I didn't have to for this brief moment.

Coming Up Empty...

2010-12-13T20:14:00.004-05:00

My reserves of tact and patience seem to be spent. I realized this this afternoon while sitting in a faculty senate meeting, trying to explain to the provost how her "process" is less than transparent. I kept a lid on my rant (barely), but that was only because some good colleagues helped carry the issue forward (in a much more civil manner than I would have been able to muster) and my frustration was temporarily overriden by bouts of resignation or maybe it was apathy...

I'm not sure why I've ended up here. The term has been tough, but there wasn't anything particularly novel about it. My sense is that students needing special tending (extensions, alternate arrangements, hand holding) has risen, but I'm not sure if it is really worse or if it just seems that way because I am so worn out. I do know that as students flail and flounder in front of me about why their papers are late, etc., etc. I can barely force myself to actually listen. I just don't seem to care, because behind them is a line of students who also need something...

In my personal life, I seem to have only two settings: fury and apathy. I can't even seem to muster the energy to be actively disappointed in one moment -- or I'm having a flash of anger. Fortunately (perhaps) one seems to cancel out the other.

I feel like I've hardly been out in the world in the last few months, hardly seen anyone beyond the most immediate circle. I did spend last weekend in Buffalo with friends, but even there, it felt like my social skills had atrophied. Certainly my ability to be a cheerleader has evaporated. And now my ability to tolerate the regular old bullshit of academe has headed south. Tomorrow's meeting of the economic history search committee ought to be a blast. An overeager chair who apparently has nothing else to do is nipping at the heels of the rest of the committee and I'm about ready to... See? That's what I'm worried about. My tolerance is gone. And I'm really at a loss as to how to recover it.

11 and 11/12s

2010-12-13T18:29:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure what happened, but in the last few days I've been pleasantly surprised at the capabilities of the girl child. On Friday, she spent 1.5 hours folding household laundry. On Saturday, she got annoyed at me and just to spite me, she cleaned the whole kitchen. Then this morning (and without being angry at me), she did 90% of the shoveling -- moving crunchy, icy snow in bitter temps. In my current world, I don't feel terribly well supported and my reserves are running very low after a particularly stressful term. Kid help is most welcome. Kid help that is not coerced is priceless.

Quirky Kids

2010-11-18T10:04:00.004-05:00

My classes this term are rather uninspiring. I have a handful of bright and interested students, but the dead wood they have for classmates pretty much ensures that a cloud of doom hangs over most of the class meetings.

My approach to this has been to complain on FaceBook and just forge ahead, making my own fun. I've let myself spin off into many "non-traditional" areas in all the classes - - liberally discussing contraceptives in the survey course and tackling homonormativity in the women's history class. Hey, it was what I was thinking about at the time and I thought maybe it would be good to model intellectual processing/curiosity for them. Oh yeah, and talking about sex and sexuality tends to bring the focus back to me.

Anyway... there was a lighthearted moment the other day that I thought I would share. In my Tuesday afternoon survey (deadly time slot: 3-5:50pm), while I was prattling on about post-war suburbanization and urban renewal, a young, bright, but goofy student raised his hand:

"Yes, K___?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there is a really big spider right here and I was wondering if I could just take it outside."

Needless to say, there was a lot of head-shaking and laughter from the class.

I told him go ahead if that is what he needed to do. And he did. And then I got back to the Housing Act of 1949 and how it isn't really about housing...

I actually really like this student. He does read. He got very curious about Minor v. Happersett and looked up the court decision while I was discussing it and then read a couple of juicy bits from the decision for the class in order to illustrate my interpretation. He has written very non-traditional papers and essays, but they showed a level of engagement and thinking that earned him good (though not outstanding) grades. Okay, he interrupts a lecture to save a spider and the other students must think him nuts, but I like him. I'll take a creative spider-saver over a plays-it-safe regurgitator any day, given the choice.

Things I recently learned from my students:

2010-11-16T20:45:00.003-05:00

1) Many of them -- the traditionally aged ones anyway -- don't know what "blue-collar" and "white-collar" mean.

2) Many of them are highly critical of the class system in the 1950s (they've been reading Vance Packard's The Status Seekers) and its emphasis on appearances, material possessions, family background, etc. in determining status. They believe that that has all somehow been magically fixed for them. They believe that they now live in a society where individual ability and individual worth are truly appreciated and rewarded.

The first one is just a kind "hunh" look how far we have come sort of observance. This is not a designation I have really had to "teach" before.

The second one, however, well, that one gives me more pause and I find myself staring at them with a combination of pity and concern... and maybe just a tiny bit of alarm.

Overload

2010-11-15T21:15:00.002-05:00

That's it. I reached some sort of saturation point. I thought I was going to have to poke my eyes in order to relieve the pain of this afternoon's faculty senate meeting where 20 people were trapped at a conference table while the chair drifted off into minutiae over procedure. People, rule #1 of meetings containing more than 3 people is DON'T TRY TO WRITE POLICY OR PROCEDURES. Useless waste of my time (and the chair was 10 minutes late to start the meeting!).

Then, I fly home to release the hound and run him around before I summon up all my courage and attend the Parent Advisory Board meeting at O's elementary school. It was as bad as I expected. The cuts to the school budget and the addition of 80 kids to the school have left everyone frazzled and the discussion was raw. The PAB is trying to plug the holes of left by the budget readjustment plan and, frankly, we can't. We can't raise money to replace the swings, fund a bus for a field trip for every class, supplement the art teacher's whopping $75 supply budget, pay teachers to run after school programs, and fund the music program. It is bleak. Teachers fear for their jobs and don't feel like they can ask for help and all the PAB can think to do it to desperately try to raise them some funds.

There was much more to my day but it is too depressing to record. It has all just left me feeling rather hopeless about it all...about my students, my colleagues, my kids' schools, my ability to work on my book. Really, I don't feel like I can take the time to write, let alone think.

And then there is Detroit... Detroit Public Schools has asked UMD to partner with them on a Teaching American History Grant. I've been involved in two for other school districts and I'd be happy to be involved in this one, but there is no one on the UMD side able to lead it. So, I should do it. The school system needs it -- only something like 9% of social studies teachers in the district had any history classes as undergraduates, yet most teach history. But where is the energy for that supposed to come from? Where can I find the energy to deal with yet another fucked up bureaucracy?

Gems from the draft box...

2010-11-04T10:44:00.003-04:00

On the theory that it is better to laugh then cry, I share with you these gems from the most recent midterm season...

"I'm sorry I missed the exam, my liver hurt."

On the Identification section (what was it and what was its significance to American history?):

The Spanish America war was a war with Spain to win Texas and California.

"Hey, hey, ho, ho...

2010-10-07T23:00:00.006-04:00

...sexual assault has got to go."

The Take Back the Night rally/march/speakout happened on my campus tonight. The student group I direct wanted to take on this event, maybe even reinvent it. Several had been to it in years past and left feeling that they hadn't even known why they were there. Several had experienced sexual abuse or assault themselves and wanted to raise awareness on campus. So we moseyed on into the women's resource center that has been running it and offered to help. The staffer in charge seemed mighty happy to see us. This was a task that came as one of many on her to do list when she was hired. She did it, albeit without much help and without much enthusiasm. The students offered both.

Now that it is over, I have many complicated thoughts, too many to process tonight. I will say this, I don't think we changed much except that we got more people out and we raised the energy level. The program still represented the staffer's vision and I wish my students had been more vocal in running the show. But I think people knew why they were there this year. And any who stuck it out for the whole speakout probably found their brains in the same mushy spot where mine is tonight.

There is something amazing about hearing people you know stand up and say:

"I was abused by my dad for seven years."
"My abuser was a cop, my stepdad."
"I have never told anyone this, save one person, but I was raped when I was 13."

How could I have not known this about them? Then you have to ask, what else don't I know about these people? Who else around me has experience horrific shit and yet goes on with their lives so much that people like me don't know this about them?

Even if you know a fair amount about sexual abuse, domestic violence, and sexual assault from an academic perspective, hearing how people who don't know the studies tell their stories is eye-opening. The stories have such similar themes: shame, silence, denial...

Okay, here is the point that really hit home for me: invisibility. Speaker after speaker tonight talked about feeling like a shell of a person, feeling invisible... And it clicked for me. Of course they feel this way, some of them experienced not just a one-time trauma but year after year of it and the people around them, even (especially?) their families, didn't ever notice that something was wrong.

If I run the numbers, something on the order of 6 women in my average 40-person class has experienced rape or attempted rape. Holy shit.

Anyway, I'm both proud and moved by my students' work on this. Rather than just flier the campus, they did presentations in classes, chalked the sidewalks, did a black eye campaign, and took over the University Center at lunch time to get the message out. They got people talking and 100 folks showed up tonight, which for a commuter campus is pretty damn awesome.

Two students sporting (fake) black eyes. About 20 students made themselves up the day before TBTN and carried handbills for the event to pass out to folks who asked what was up.

At lunch time, the black eye campaign gathered in the student center, taking up space with a short silent vigil and their signs, cited stats on rape and domestic abuse, and then they passed handbills through the crowded space.

Mmmm...summer's end

2010-09-05T22:44:00.006-04:00

I've engaged in a couple of season changing rituals this weekend. Yesterday, there was some mountain biking in some lovely, crisp weather...it was definitely feeling fall like. Then today, I went to the Detroit International Jazz Fest, an end of summer activity that I've done for many years.

Over the years I've found less and less that I really wanted to hear at the fest, though it is usually fun to wander. There is often too much smooth jazz, standards, big band, etc. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing Herbie Hancock, Joey DeFrancesco, Joshua Redman, and Medeski, Scofield, Martin, and Wood there, but I've come to not expect anything outside the mainstream. Considering this, I was delighted to see Myra Melford on the bill this year. My friend Jules introduced me to her music years ago, but I've never seen her live (and she has never performed at this festival before). She played with Matt Wilson and Mark Dresser as the Trio M. They were delicious. And it was wonderful to see the crowd get into it. Certainly some were surprised, but the response from those who stuck it out was enthusiastic.

Cottage 2010

2010-09-05T13:43:00.006-04:00

The kids and I hit the cottage for a week at the tail end of August. The UP was lovely and, after a HOT July/August, the big lakes were amazingly warm. Even Lake Superior. The week only had one cool day, otherwise it was perfect mid- to high-70s and plenty of sunshine.

I sometimes had to drag the kids away from the TV kicking and screaming, but they soon forgot that as soon as we got down the beach. I love those times where they zone out... we all would sink into our own headspace while playing with sand or water.

And the dog. He loved it and we all loved introducing him to it. We chucked the ball as far as we could down the beach and he fetched over and over again with amazing speed -- a full gallop that we hadn't really seen before. He also is quite springy and will jump like a deer over the dune grass.

He seems rather unfamiliar with the great outdoors (must've been a city dog in his previous life) so he was surprised by waves on the big lake, feathers on the beach, frogs on the deck...

Serve Me

2010-08-21T16:34:00.003-04:00

I've been feeling distinctly under-served lately. This theme has been going on for several months and I'm struggling to think of any example lately where I've felt adequately tended. My biggest complaint is certainly with restaurants. I actually walked out of one on Tuesday when people who walked in after me were tended first -- despite my attempts to get the staff's attention.

That I live in a college town does mean that servers rotate quickly and probably are undertrained, but isn't something like eating out so ubiquitous at this point that most of us, even if we are only 20 and even if we aren't given much training, know what good service is? Of course, the ubiquity of eating out and purchasing services may have dulled our (societal) expectations. We just have our meal, maybe grumble a little that our water was never refilled or that the food took forever to come or that the bacon we asked for on a separate plate came in the pasta, and then move on, knowing that we'd be eating out again the next night or the night after that. Eating out is rarely the treat it was for my family when I was growing up, so I think we expect less.

Since my gig as a single parent has started, however, I'm finding that I crave a bit more out of my out-in-the-world experiences. My kids help with food planning, prep, and clean up only grudgingly. It is a chore to get them to do anything and, frankly, 95% of the work of a meal falls to me. I'm working to shift this dynamic a bit this summer, but for the time being, couldn't someone run and fetch for me? I'm happy to pay for the service. I'm just tired of feeling like I have to police the service.

And I could use a good long foot rub. But that is a whine for another day.

Hank, Jr.

2010-08-19T23:03:00.002-04:00

So, I finally got the report on the MRI that was done on my back at the end of July. "A persistent right hemilarminectomy defect is redemonstrated." In other words, "a focal cyst is again seen along the medial aspect of the right facet joint extending into the lateral recess and subarticular region abutting the right L5 nerve root."

Yeah, yeah, you know all this, Hank came back, but listen to this:

"The size of this cyst now measures 5x3mm compared to 7x6mm on the prior exam [of 3/31/10]."

So there ya go, Hank, Jr. has gotten smaller. And I found myself saying to the doctor, "as long as I can still have the ibuprofen to turn to when the pain level creeps up, I can live with this." No second surgery for me, thank you very much.

Those eyes

2010-08-13T22:11:00.004-04:00

Boone has settled in rather well. In fact, it is kind of like he's always been here and I have to remind myself that some of this is new to him. Tonight I took the kids, a kid friend, and the dog downtown for the Crossroads music festival. While the kids played with the EMU footballs being handed out, Boone and I checked out the crowd. He did try for a few quick licks of passersby, but then settled in and discovered that by sitting politely, cocking his head and wagging his tail, he could lure in people to give him pets. There was one woman who was so taken with him, she plopped down next to me on the curb and encouraged him to cuddle up. She had some physical issues and I couldn't really understand what she was saying, but she obviously found some peace in stroking his head and he was very patient to let her even though there was a lot of action going on around us. When it was time for her to go, I helped her up but she still had a hard time tearing herself away and kept letting him give her kisses on her forehead. He is really a sweet dog.

While I was sitting alone with him and he was taking in the sights, I pondered his face. I now realize that there is something very familiar about it. I've never had a black or black and tan dog and neither of my previous dogs had ears like his, so I'm thinking there is something about his eyes. I wonder if this is why I was drawn to him in the first place. He has quickly become my shadow. He sleeps behind my desk chair when I'm working, follows me to the garden, and, at least so far, sticks close when I wander across parks. I'm excited to take him places and let him play with other dogs. I can't wait to watch him run at the cottage. I have to keep reminding myself that he is still new and I don't know what he will do -- does he like water? will he chase deer? will he try to be dominant with the other dogs at the park? will he come when called even when there are distractions? -- as he has slid into his place here so easily (so far).

The Summer of New

2010-08-13T17:34:00.003-04:00

Well, the new dog didn't fit well in the old car. Okay, it wasn't really the dog so much... we were all feeling cramped in the sedan. We've managed three camping trips and one cottage trip in the Saturn, but now there is a pooch riding along and it was already awfully tight. So, because summer is when I have time to research such things and the next cottage trip is looming, I bought a new car.

Diesel (excellent fuel efficiency), 6 speed (fun), sliver (practical)... Jetta Wagon.

Shenanigans in Public

2010-08-01T20:44:00.005-04:00

AB and I, who share an extreme distaste for TVs in public, came across this little gizmo at the Makers Faire at The Henry Ford. While I was underwhelmed by the festival in general, I couldn't resist this gadget. Seeing as it was Saturday night, we changed into respectable clothes and headed out to a couple of the places where TVs seem wrong, wrong, wrong -- like fancy wine bars, nice brew pubs and trendy restaurants -- to perform some guerrilla anti-TV action. We did also hit a sports bar/restaurant-type place, not because TVs are wrong there so much, but because there were so many targets. This place even had a TV in the bathrooms. I loved killing that one!

It is not a perfect device, we did not get all the TVs we saw and we had no luck turning off TVs from the sidewalk, but we did have some success. In the wine bar, the two we turned off, the two that were very much in our space as we drank and ate, stayed off the whole time we were there. In two other places, bartenders and staff rushed to restore the ones over the bar, but left off the ones away from it. We remained stealth in all this. I'm not quite ready to boldly point my gadget and declare my hate for TV. I am, however, very much looking forward to my next visit to doctors' offices, however, where I just might whip it out for all to see as I kill The View or whatever drivel is on to placate those who wait. Be prepared. Bring a book.

Introducing...

2010-08-01T20:15:00.006-04:00

Boone, our new pooch.

He is a mellow 55 lb. black and tan mix -- playful and snuggly, but super well-mannered and easy-going. He was a stray brought to the humane society. The vets estimate that he is about 10 months old.

Beerfest -- again

2010-07-28T23:46:00.002-04:00

Most of the magic circle seemed to be heading for the Friday night run of the 13th annual Summer Beer Festival. Never one to be left out, I snatched up Stacey's extra ticket and then procured a couple more for my dad and brother.

I usually can come up with a little something to write about the beers I taste, but I'm working from a deficit this year. In case you weren't in the area to experience it up close and personal, it stormed like mad for a good part of the evening. Things started out well enough. We had a table under a tree. Everyone assembled and we commenced to taste -- and I took notes. Then the clouds started churning and we headed for cover under the nearest beer tent where we stayed while the clouds spilled and lit up with lightening. While there was some shelter, beer, and good company, there was not enough dryness to take notes. So I just drank. Then I wobbled home. Then I wondered how I'd managed to get so drunk...

Anyway, here's all I have to report on this year:

The sour trend seems to be under control (finally). There were plenty, if that is your thing, but they were no longer hogging the show. Similarly, the fruit beer thing also seemed reasonable.

A new trend, and one that I enjoyed, was the dark IPA. Most lacked the depth of a traditional American-hopped IPA that I love -- the stink, the beginning, the shift in the middle, and then the left turn at the end -- but the maltiness they brought to hops was not unpleasant. I liked Arcadia's B. Craft Double Dark IPA the best, as it was the only one that had an IPA smell.

Ginger beers made a good show. I'd liked Original Gravity's in the past but it was weak this year. The winner in this category came from the Hideout Brewery in Grand Rapids: Ginger Lee Ginger Pilsner -- very fresh ginger juice taste to it.

The competition for silly, clever, and saucy names was fierce again this year. Right Brain always does well in this category (Distill My Heart Bourbon Stout). Arbor Brewing had Uskratch Mai Bock. You get the idea.

My best beer conversation came with the Short's folks (that's two years running!). I'd had much beer by the time I closed out the festival with them, but the Hangin' Frank was good -- lovely, stinky IPA -- and the people who pour that beer know how it is made and are enthusiastic about it! I need to get up that way for a visit at some point.

And now, what you have all been waiting for, the worst beer of the evening? That would be Bell's Brewery's The Wild One. I went for a Rye Stout (they were out) and the guy tried to sell me on this. I resisted and had the Batch 9000 but they did talk my dad into it. It was evil sour -- not beer sour, but "something is wrong with this" sour. It was so bad that I begged a pretzel off a pretzel-necklace-wearin' dude in a desperate attempt to get rid of the taste. If you think it isn't fair for me to pick a beer as the worst of the night when it is a style I don't like, then I'll have to go with the 9000 -- I poured it out and had a laugh when the random guy next to me did the same. Whichever beer "wins" this category, Bell's was the loser on Friday!

Honu

2010-07-28T23:28:00.005-04:00

Sure, beaches are grand, but I love to peer into the pools made by craggy lava rocks to see what's living there. On our first full day, O and I scrambled up some rocks at the end of Mauna Kea beach to explore and we found the first of many sea turtles. I never saw any turtles when we lived there in the '90s. My dad saw one while snorkeling when he came to visit and I was so jealous. I saw only one on our last visit -- swimming along at Hapuna and I followed it - with O in my arms -- along most of beach. This time, however, I saw turtles everywhere. I lost count after a while, but definitely encountered more than two dozen -- some on the beach and some while snorkeling. Amazing creatures...

Beaches

2010-07-28T22:52:00.006-04:00

We stayed along the Kohala (northwestern) coast of Hawaii which put us within striking distance of the best beaches on the island. Beaches such as these...

How Was Hawaii?

2010-07-28T22:30:00.005-04:00

So...I went to Hawaii. Upon return, people politely ask, "How was Hawaii?" and I stumble over an answer. After some contemplation, I've decided that this is for two (related) reasons:

1. Hawaii is a spectacularly beautiful place, but it is a place with which I am quite familiar. I lived there for a short while in '92-'93 and I've been back to visit a few times. I can't recapture the wonder of seeing how blue the ocean is, how black and huge the lava fields, how lush and green the valley's of wet side are. I know they are fantastic sights, but they are too familiar to move me to any aggressive use of adjectives...

2. This visit meant that I spent two weeks visiting my former life. I lived in Hawaii 18 years ago. Hard to believe 18 years has passed, but I don't regret that time. Being in that place again and sharing space with the person I shared space with then... well, it put me just a touch off balance, but not much. I'm not particularly sentimental and this trip reminded me of that. I could ponder where the time went, but it didn't send me into waves of nostalgia. It just seemed (again) very familiar.

"How was your trip?"

"Nice."

Dusting off the old blog...

2010-07-28T22:28:00.001-04:00

My goodness, the neglect around here! Piles of dust everywhere! Yeesh, one might conclude that I have done nothing, have no opinions about what anyone else has done, and have no plans for the future. But that is not the case...

Has it really come to this?

2010-06-12T23:23:00.002-04:00

Apparently it has. I've started reading a book on how to get organized. It promises that I will both get more accomplished and truly savor life. The problem is that by the time I settle in to read it, I'm falling asleep. I'm all of 10 pages in after having it out from the library for 3 weeks. Yikes!

I guess I'm thinking the first step to getting something done might be to get enough sleep...

I took them anyway...

2010-06-09T23:20:00.004-04:00

The recent trip to SF merits several blog posts, but, for the moment, here are the pictures one must take when visiting California...

Hey, look, it's the Golden Gate Bridge!
(looking north from Bernal Hill)

And these critters are really big, but really kind of more mango colored...
(Big Basin State Park, outside Santa Cruz)

You can see for miles from up here...
(Marin/Muir Woods area)

Rocks and surf... sign me up!
(Shell Beach, Sonoma Coast State Park)

Okay, yeah, that is really tall...
(Big Basin, outside Santa Cruz)

Yes, I see why people live out there!

Power Trio

2010-05-16T23:10:00.005-04:00

After the Ypsi Pride cleanup, there was a lovely picnic in a park for the volunteers. I took the boys who had helped me (O and L) and we ate well (they ran out of food last year, but the organizers were so on top of it this year and everyone got plenty, even those who worked long and got there late!). While we were lounging on our blanket in the breezy sunshine, we noticed this sight -- A mayor (Ypsi), a city council member (Ypsi), and the longest-serving member of the House of Representatives, John Dingell.

Dingell represents our district so it is not a surprise that he showed for this community-wide event (he also provided the cookies, which were quite yummy). I chatted with the boys about who he was, as well as who the others on the bench were -- it made for a nice little lesson in civics when we discussed who of the three we thought it most more important to talk to (O voted for the mayor, but L said "nah, I see him everywhere").

A short time later, when we were leaving, I crossed paths with Dingell in the parking lot and we exchanged pleasantries. As he headed off to his car and a woman called to him saying, "Governor..." He didn't look back (Michigan has a female governor at the moment...).

She looked at me confused, so I said (helpfully), "It's Representative... Representative Dingell").

She said, "oh, I knew he was something." Pause. "Who is he?"

I answered, "he's in the House of Representatives."

She responds, "What is that?"

Wha???? A grown woman just asked me what the House of Representatives is....

Okay, deep breath.

"You know, he is part of the government in Washington, D. C. It is one of the two bodies of Congress..." Schoolhouse Rock, where are you when I need you?

The closing line belongs to the 10 year old: In the car, I told the kids about this exchange. O sympathetically said, "well I don't know that I really know what that is." L responded, "Yeah, that's okay, you're 7, not an ADULT!"

Pride... the weekend.

2010-05-16T22:33:00.006-04:00

We finally had weekend worthy weather on a weekend, which was awesome with so much going on. E was sick and hung around the homestead. O, however, ably served as my assistant in the Ypsi Pride cleanup day. Once again, I was the site leader for Recreation Park. We had the EMU basketball team this year (last year it was football) and I was ready, having borrowed extra tools (college students never have tools). O got everyone signed in and took charge of the donuts. Once his friend L arrived, they also joined in on moving wood chips under the play equipment. We also got the gutters of the parking lot cleaned out, the pavilion swept, and the park de-trashed.

The basketball players were awfully nice to O -- calling him by name, listening intently to his stories, letting him help with any job he chose, and making sure the rest of the team did the same. It does make me wonder why. O is certainly a dynamic kid, but they responded to him immediately, even before he'd had a chance to charm them (or produce the donuts). O was dressed in his sporty duds -- last year's baseball team cap and athletic pants -- was it a boy sport connection? Or was he more accessible than me? The players were perfectly polite, but they didn't chat with me and I seriously doubt any of them remembered my name (but they all knew the name of my kid...). Anyway, O enjoyed it and I enjoyed watching him enjoy the attention. Young adults, beyond those we pay to teach them, are often not so attentive to little kids.

For next year, I'm thinking we need to enlist more kids. After the basketball team left, we got a third load of woodchips. I had O, L, and one other volunteer left at that point but we'd all been moving woodchips for a couple of hours. I gathered an armload of shovels and rakes and headed toward the pile, inviting the parents of kids playing on the equipment to lend a hand. None of them budged. Really? Who can watch volunteers work on something you use and not help for ten minutes??? Well, their kids showed them up. They got interested in what we were doing and I offered them the tools and they ALL helped (to the best of their abilities) while we chatted about how cool it was to help take care of "our" park.

Overall, this year seemed to go more smoothly than last and I think we did a good job of putting things in order for the summer. Bike Ypsi launches most rides from here, so we have a special affinity for Rec Park. Between Jeff, O, and myself, I think BY has done right by this park!

A good day to be a professor...

2010-05-16T21:47:00.006-04:00

Friday was a strange day, the kind I usually have to fight to not see as a "waste" because none of "my" work could be done...

In the morning I drove to Dearborn to meet up with my Women in Learning and Leadership (WILL) students and the girls they mentor at school in SW Detroit. I wasn't actually supposed to do anything other than be there when the girls came on this field trip to the university, but I enjoyed meeting the girls and had a lovely chat with them as I tagged along with to the Environmental Interpretative Center on the grounds of the old Henry Ford Estate. Only two of the nine girls who were supposed to come had made it -- sickness and a lack of permission slips kept the others away. This was a great disappointment to my students, but they powered through (the only option!). They had arranged a great day for the girls and obviously had put much effort into making the program work over the last term. I had a great time doing the pond study (cool critters living in there!) and I was mighty proud of my people!

Task number two was to hop in the car and drive to UM-Flint in time to see a student from my Urban and Regional Studies seminar this fall present the work her team had done with the Fair Housing Center of Metro Detroit. Even though this was just an undergraduate research conference, she was beyond nervous. I'd tried to talk her down via e-mail in the days leading up to it, but she called me an hour before the presentation in a full-on panic. For half an hour, I went through it with her again and reminded her that she knew her material, that she had the presentation, that she could do this. She was with another student of mine who is in WILL and was also in the seminar, so I knew she had some immediate moral support, but that support was coming from a woman who is, herself, terrified of public speaking (I learned this two weeks ago when she melted down at the Women and Gender Studies luncheon -- we'll be working on that next year...). Anyway, I got there, walked her around, helped her load her powerpoint, and tried to keep her calm. When it was her turn to talk, I was the nervous one. I really didn't know if she would be able to pull it off or if her nerves would get the better of her.

Once up there, she fluffed for a moment, then looked at the audience, smiled genuinely, introduced herself... and then talked (not read!) a wonderful presentation. She paused in a couple of places as she processed where to go next, but always came back quickly and on target. It was wonderful. Her passion on the issue (that only really developed through her research) came through and she won over some key audience members... including the dean of our college. She did a great job with the questions too and I managed to hold my tongue other than to offer her one prompt (she seemed greatly relieved). I'm proud of her and, more importantly, she was proud of herself. See that smile on her face as she gets a certificate from the panel moderator?

Oh yes, it was a good day that made the stress of two particularly stressful parts of my job from the last year (teaching a community-based research seminar for the first time and directing the WILL program) very much worth it.

Rain, rain go away

2010-05-13T08:59:00.003-04:00

couple of people suggested something that hadn't even occurred to me: the weather might be impacting my pain levels.

As I recently posted, I've a had 3 or so weeks of feeling pretty damn good considering what had come before. Granted, I've been on the nerve calming medicine all along, but still, I was sleeping and functioning and not thinking about pain 90% of my waking hours.

But then, on Tuesday, that lovely trend came to a crashing halt. I woke up to pain and it got worse over the course of the day until I was a quivering mess by nighttime -- even with narcotics and heaping helpings of ibuprofen. Some of my melt down was undoubtedly triggered by the baggage the last 9 months of pain has left in me -- I wasn't just feeling the pain of the moment, I was feeling the energy- and spirit-zapping effects of months of pain. And hopeless, yes, I was feeling hopeless.

A cyst in my spine just doesn't seem like the kind of thing that would respond to changes in weather, but this latest turn did coincide with the rain rolling in... And it is pouring today, and I do feel rotten. So, I will track the weather along with the pain, because what else is there to do?

On the medical front, I have another appointment with a surgeon who is giving me a second opinion. It was quite a tortured path to get my medical records to him, but they are there and I'll see him next week. I also ran an all too familiar routine yesterday, calling the pharmacy, the doctor's office, the insurance company, and then the doctor's office again. I walked the office manager of my doctor's office through all the ways her staff had fucked this up. I think that prompted her to get involved and get the right form filled out. She tried to cover and blame the insurance company but I had names and dates to contradict the story she had been fed by employees covering their asses. We shall see.... I *might* be able to start new drugs tomorrow (4 1/2 weeks after they were prescribed!) but it will take 1-2 weeks to tell if they are going to make any difference. Whatever. There doesn't seem to be much I can do to change this ride.

This time...

2010-05-12T09:05:00.006-04:00

I want to go here. I didn't make it last time.

I'm really going to do research in the GLBT Historical Society, but the archives are only open a few hours here and there, so there will be time for playing as well.

Women's Bldg., SF -- one of the topics I'll be researching!

A bit confused

2010-04-28T07:04:00.002-04:00

I can't explain why, but since Saturday, my pain levels have dropped. In four days, I've only taken two doses of pain meds. I have no explanation for this. I have not changed my other medications. I have had no procedures. I have not changed anything about my usual routine -- other than to stop reaching for narcotics at bedtime and ibuprofen upon waking.

I'm certainly not complaining, but I'm at even more of a loss to figure out what to do next. I'd love to get off the mind-slowing nerve calming meds, but what if they keep me at this very-livable pain level? Meanwhile, I'm still waiting to hear back from the second surgeon who is reviewing my case. I'm also waiting for a new medication. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

When you have kids...

2010-03-28T20:26:00.003-04:00

This is what happens to your stuff. Meet the 'musical bike' -- please note the homemade rainstick in the water bottle cage.

Persistent Cystic Mass

2010-03-28T14:09:00.003-04:00

I'm still waiting for my surgeon to call me back to discuss the MRI I had on Tuesday. In the meantime, through indirect channels, I acquired a copy of the report from the radiologists. Not surprisingly, it is written in doctor-ese and there is much there I don't understand but the "impression" noted at the end seems clear enough: there is a cystic mass at the site where I had a cystic mass removed in January and it is "probably minimally smaller" than what showed up on the MRIs I had in December. December -- as in BEFORE I had surgery to remove said mass. I'm particularly confused, because what is there now is about the same size as what was there 6 weeks ago (or 5 weeks post surgery).

Did the surgeon miss most of it? Did it grow back quickly to almost its previous size and stop? Is there something else entirely going on? I don't know. And while I am interested to hear what my surgeon has to say, I'm looking elsewhere for ideas and treatments.

It is time, I've decided to seek a second opinion from neurosurgeons outside the U of M system. I'm also going to get a referral to the pain clinic. The latter feels like a bit of defeat, since much of their treatment seems to be about finding ways for individuals to live with chronic pain apand I haven't not yet resigned myself to living with chronic pain. But, at least according to their definition, I'm already there:

What is Chronic Pain?
Chronic pain is often defined as pain that persists for more than 3 months or that outlasts the usual healing process. Persistent pain can also result from chronic diseases such as arthritis, cancer, musculoskeletal or neurological disorders. Chronic pain affects all aspects of a person's life including daily activities, family life, work, leisure time, sleep patterns, and mood.

What if I said no?

2010-03-17T21:58:00.007-04:00

The doctor asked me five and a half weeks ago if I could live with the pain. I couldn't really wrap my brain around the question then. Part of that was denial. The pain was not supposed to be there. He was supposed to tell me that it was just inflammation from the surgery. He was absolutely not supposed to tell me the cyst I'd had removed from my spine five weeks earlier was growing back.

So when he asked the question, "Can you live with this pain?" I couldn't stop flashing on how bad the pain had been before surgery to assess where the pain was in that particular moment. And I couldn't think about saying "no" -- because what would no mean? Would no mean that I would kill myself over the pain?

Weeks later, the pain has gotten worse. The last week has seen the return of the searing sensation in my lower leg. It has been waking me up. And the pattern is the same. I awaken and there is a peaceful moment -- when I'm aware of being awake, but I'm enjoying the pleasure of my bed, but as soon as I move, the pain builds and I have to get up -- usually whimpering while I do it. It's not that I can't live with a couple of shortened nights of sleep (I have two kids -- I've done it), but now I'm playing the doctor's question through the lens of my daily life.... Can I live with never sleeping more than 4 hours at a stretch? That is where I was for more than a month before my surgery. Can I live with not being able to sit through an entire meeting? Can I live with cutting my students short and shooing them out the door so I can stop trying to hide my hurt?

When the pain first appeared, I tried so hard to ignore it. The first time, during a meeting, that I had to stand to relieve the leg pain, I felt such defeat. I could see the downward slope ahead of me.

I'm no longer standing at the top of that slope. And it is worse because I know where this is going. I was here so recently. And I know that I can't parent, I can't grade or write, I can't concentrate when I have to hold my body so carefully and so intentionally all the time.

Right now, I am achingly tired, but I can't go to bed. It is too early. I'll be up at three, even with narcotics (but the narcotics will help me get to 3am quite nicely). In moments like these, I can almost see myself saying "no" to the doctor. No, I can't live with this. But that leaves me in a place that might be scarier than the pain.

Cupcakes be damned.

2010-03-09T09:57:00.004-05:00

To continue my recent trend of blogging about weighty things and frivolous things back-to-back, I give you this:

I'm over cupcakes. Oh, sure, they are cute and all, but after Saturday, I'm done. This revelation didn't stop me from downing a leftover cupcake from the festivities this morning for breakfast, but I couldn't really let it go to waste, now could I?

So here is the deal: a party for 100 people, a weighty cake (10 x 10 and four layers deep), and 70 cupcakes. I sliced the cake -- it was a bit messy (because it was a real carrot cake full of carrots, crystallized ginger, pineapple, raisins, and walnuts!!!) and therefore a bit more labor intensive than normal -- but let's face it, cutting a big cake always takes some effort and skill (in grad school I worked for caterers and cut many, many cakes). But it is worth it. Saturday's party-goers filed right past the pretty cupcakes (in four flavors) to wait in line and get a slice of cake from me. Only when the cake was all gone (and I stretched its servings to 48), did people reach for a cupcake. I had the dregs of the cake (the bits that fell off the real slices) and I had a cupcake (okay, there were lots left over... I've had several cupcakes). The cake wins (and not just because carrot cake is the best cake on the planet): the cake/frosting ratio is better, the distribution of frosting is better, and the cake has more moist surfaces.

I'm hereby committing myself to the cake camp. I'm a cake enthusiast.

3.5 Hours of Hell

2010-03-08T23:08:00.003-05:00

Here is what I concluded after sitting through another school board meeting tonight:

1. No meeting should run until midnight -- at least no meeting where lives are not at risk.

2. People talk about transparency, yet most have no idea what it actually is.

3. Communication between individuals on basic information -- like the time and place of meetings or basic facts on data or timelines -- is a waste of time. That information, even if only one person asks for it, should be immediately and consistently be made public.

4. Acronyms should never be used in a public forum/meeting.

5. Ad Hoc committees should actually get to function as committees and not just as proof-readers for plans generated by an administration that has a stranglehold on the data needed for a real committee to generate viable plans (plans, not plan!).

6. School boards -- any board -- should not wait to be told what it will get but should ask for it wants.

I can barely describe how frustrating it was to watch an elected board try to lavish praise on students, teachers, and principals, debate procedure in an open forum, analyze school performance data, and sidestep the looming budget crisis in the district. Oh, how I want to push the board to get on the front end of the message, to look proactive, instead of reactive. There was a glimmer of hope in one resolution offered hours into the meeting but it was killed by the rest of the board's 'wait and see' approach and nauseatingly-high levels of civility.

And no one should say to me "we face tough choices..." It is time to tell me the choices and don't ask me to sit through 3 hours of minutiae to hear it.

I have an enormous amount of respect for the school board and the commitment its members have made, but we can do better.

Wintertasticness

2010-02-28T23:05:00.010-05:00

Winter seems to have concentrated itself in late February. We've had lots of snow... plenty to shovel, build snow forts in, and send some of us off into the woods on skis.... There have many lovely discoveries, including O's skating abilities!

Swish-swish-swish...

2010-02-28T22:21:00.006-05:00

I've been thinking about it for the last several years, but this year I managed to not wait too long. I finally bought myself some cross-country ski equipment. I grew up X-country skiing, but shifted to downhill in high school and college, mostly to be social. When I blew my left knee out on an icy slope in 1988, I gave up downhill and shied away from any skiing at all. But I missed the cross-country and with a high level of caution (that unfortunately seems to come easily to me) I can still do it, bum left knee, aching right leg and all. I've been out a few times in the years since and meant to buy skis as soon as we moved back to Michigan, but for a variety of reasons (most of them involving the existence of kids) I didn't...until this year.

On Friday, I headed out into the snowy, windy afternoon for a few safe miles at County Farm Park. Then, on Saturday, I did more miles at Kensington Metro park with AB. It doesn't give me the speed of mountain biking, but it does get me out into the woods, and that was really my goal. I still haven't gotten to the off-the-beaten-trail experience I crave and my form sucks, but it has been fun and will hopefully help me not mind the end of winter or Hank, Jr. so much.

The Post that Should Not Be

2010-02-28T22:10:00.003-05:00

Why the silence? Because the cyst is back. And that is not how it is supposed to be. The jury is still out on why Hank, Jr. is there -- but the MRI done 5 weeks post surgery and the pain that re-emerged around 3-4 weeks post-surgery indicate that something is there -- something about 1/4 the size of the original Hank. So now we wait. Wait and see what an MRI in late March says. And then we talk about 1)living with the pain, 2)doing more surgery or 3)things no one has come up with yet. So, for now, I live in limbo and try not to think about it too much but of course I do think about it, esp. on nights like tonight, when the house is quiet and the possibilities so unknown.

Tom

2010-02-02T14:30:00.005-05:00

Tom on Shadow; me riding Major. It always thrilled me that he let me ride the bigger horse.

My great uncle died on Sunday. He was a quiet guy with a somewhat gruff manner and that sometimes made me unsure of myself in his presence -- if we tried to talk. But I probably spent more time with him than with anyone else during our visits when I was a kid. As my mom likes to tell it, when my family pulled into their driveway in Holly, Uncle Tom had his boots on before our car had come to a complete stop. He and I went straight to the barn, groomed the horses, and went for a ride. Then we'd tend the sheep, maybe visit the pigs up the road, put the dog through her paces, and say hi to barn cats. That I was quiet around him and passionate about animals (which extended to helping muck out stalls and tend the tack) meant that we got along just fine in the end. RIP, Uncle Tom.

Birthday Celebrations

2010-01-16T23:33:00.010-05:00

Here she is... the birthday girl.

I made her a cake: triple layer chocolate with a dusting of white chocolate "snow"

A few of her friends came for a sleepover.

We Don't Need No Stinkin' RB!

2010-01-14T10:16:00.004-05:00

A little levity... much needed after that last post, eh? Here are my kids, rocking out -- E on air drums, O singing -- to Pennywise's My Own Way, being played on... my phone (see it there on the chair with O?). Yeah, we don't need no R*ck B*nd around here!

See Me

2010-01-12T15:46:00.003-05:00

Once again today, I ran up against the misguided image people have of me and my blood is boiling. What makes this so infuriating is not so much that the image is wrong -- how well can I expect people to understand my interior anyway -- but that people deploy it as if it is a "cute" little quirk of my personality. Except that what they are implying is not cute. To suggest that I'm some sort of overachiever, who doesn't know her own limits, who can't control her energy, who never listens to advice that advocates patience is just insulting. And I'm at a loss as to how people can't see that.

As anyone who has ever ridden a mountain bike or served on a panel with me knows, I do know and (and sometimes overly-) respect my limits. High energy does not mean recklessness. Independence is not just knee-jerk stubbornness. To make these traits into the defining characteristics of my personality, is to question my rationality. And it is not cute.

Down Time

2010-01-10T07:34:00.003-05:00

With my current recovery downtime, I'm spending lots of time reading and getting some knitting done. The kids both want fingerless gloves like the ones I'm finishing up for myself. I also made a pair for the girl child's doll (E turns 11 soon -- I'll actually have a project done before the day!). I think I'll make a caplet for the doll as well, and use up some of the yarn that is taking up space under my bed. A cousin having a baby in a few months might also get something handmade. Anyone have a great, easy baby pattern that uses washable sock wool? I have tons of pretty stripey stuff I bought to make baby sweaters with, but the sweaters seemed more than I could get knit up with this tiny yarn...

Anyway, I'll be struggling to jump into an academic term that is well underway later in January, but, for now, I'm taking it easy and maybe getting a bit of the vacation I missed with the pre-surgery pain.

I will be going stir crazy soon, though, so keep me in mind if you are headed somewhere interesting in the next week or two... I can't drive, but I'm sure I'll be up for going out soon!

What in the world...?

2010-01-10T07:00:00.007-05:00

So coming out of the surgery, I keep finding new "things" on my body that I hadn't expected. I realize that I just went through fairly significant surgery, but these surprises have me wondering just how complicated this surgery got and when. Did the doctor leave out many parts of the surgery when he described it to me beforehand or did he have to adjust quite a bit once he had me on the table? Were there more questions I should have asked?

When I woke up, I immediately realized I'd been catheterized. This was very uncomfortable but the nurse explained that the surgery had gone over 5 hours (doc and I had talked about a 2-3 hour surgery), so it was needed.

Next up was the realization that I had a second IV. The nurses disconnected this "large" (nurses description) IV from the drip but left it in "just in case."

I found all these small punctures in the palms of my hands on my wrists. No one had an explanation for them until the next day when someone finally suggested it was where they had run some EMG lines to test my nerves during surgery.

During the evening, the tops of my thighs went numb, especially on my right leg. This was profoundly disorienting since numbness had sent me to docs in the first place, but this was a NEW numbness, and coming off of just having had spine surgery was scary. The docs sort of shrugged this one off, saying I'd been on my belly in one position for a long time and that probably did it. I've waited this out, and it has gone away.

The skin over my hip bones, especially on the right, was irritated, red, raw... another side effect of being draped over pillows and foam blocks to extend my spine on the table, I guess.

Later, in the middle of the night, after I'd been admitted to the hospital, I found all these dried bloody patches in my hair. The nurse shrugged on this one but finally suggested my head had been screwed into a halo during the surgery. Again, news to me.

When the nurse went to remove my IVs so I could come home, we found a second line had been put into my left hand, at the wrist. (That made for a total of 3!).

When I came home, the irritated spot on my right hip turned out to have some sort of filament or splinter in it -- no wonder it was so angry. What had I been dragged across when I was knocked out?

And then last night, I came up from the dark basement where I'd been watching a movie with the kids to find my left hand (in the thumb area) and wrist heavily bruised -- when they hadn't been 2 hours before. This is where that 3rd IV had been hiding. IV site #2 is also a bit bruised all of the sudden.

This is not any sort of interesting post, but I wanted to set down for myself this series of unexpected bits. I hope they are done. I'm ready to scale down the meds (steroids, nerve calming agents, antibiotics, etc.) and stop finding new, strange things that have been done to my body. I'm ready to heal.

Sitting Down

2010-01-09T07:06:00.003-05:00

For the first time in probably a month, maybe two, I am typing at my computer while sitting down. The surgery on Jan 6 was long and involved -- some bone in my spine was shave back (L4), a cyst was drained, and then all of that cystic tumor that could be removed without doing damage to my nerve was scraped away. My incision hurts. A 3-4 inch line down my spine, sealed shut with a couple dozen staples is hurting right now, but the searing, burning pain that had taken permanent root in my lower right leg is completely gone and while my right big toe is still a bit numb, I know it is there. As the swelling goes down, it should get better. I can lay on my right side. I am not leaping out of bed in pain shooting from my right hip down to the tip of my toe.

Now I must be patient and give my body weeks to heal. The narcotic haze helps the incision pain but also makes my fingers and my tongue stumble, but I'm so relieved -- almost scary relieved -- that the surgery seems to have worked. The pain was beyond what I had endured with the hip and I don't really have the words to describe the terror it brought to me as it got worse and got worse so quickly.

But now, now I can actually contemplate adventures to come. A trip to the desert. A trip to Hawaii. Sleeping 7 hours in a row.

Ah, December... the month of invasive procedures

2009-12-24T20:56:00.002-05:00

Two years ago, I had hip surgery.

Last year, I had a breast biopsy that went bad. I didn't blog about it. There was no cancer, just a horrible morning at the hospital in which I bled out and ended up woozy for a couple of days and bruised up for months. And they only got one of the two "suspicious" sites. When they recommended a surgical biopsy for the second, I declined. Two subsequent mammograms have showed no changes, so there doesn't seem to be any need to go through that trauma again.

This year, it looks like it will be back surgery to remove a lesion that is pushing on my L5 nerve root and causing me stupid amounts of pain. It might be a synovial cyst. It might be a schwannoma (benign) tumor on the nerve sheath. A second MRI on Saturday should clear up which it is, but on some level it doesn't matter. The surgical treatment is essentially the same. Other options, namely physical therapy and steroid shots in my spine, make no sense to me. They will not impact the thing that is pushing my nerves and making me hurt. I suppose that if I couldn't face surgery, I might go these routes, but the disruptions to my life have become constant and so incredibly painful that I'm ready and it can't happen soon enough. I hope the call comes soon.

liminality and the royal we

2009-12-14T14:35:00.002-05:00

Hunh. Today is my 13th wedding anniversary. I'm not really sure what to do with that since I am not really married anymore, except in the eyes of the state. I'm not uncomfortable where I am in this liminal state of commitment, but there is a certain awkwardness. I have trouble this time of year, when there are so many surface-y social chit chat sessions at holiday gatherings and such... how do I tell my stories? Is it "me" and "I" or if they are the older stories, are they "we" and "us" even though there is no current we. And then today. What do I do with myself today?

Leave it to my grandmother to point the way. She stayed over this weekend and at one point yesterday she casually said, "well, I'm not sending you an anniversary card this year." I told her that seemed quite appropriate, considering. Later, as I drove her home, she said, "I think it's good that you've found a way that works for you and you shouldn't have to bother with anyone fussing about how it is 'supposed' to be." Thanks, Grandma, that is a way better sentiment than I could get from any card.

Pant Wars

2009-12-11T23:03:00.004-05:00

And now for something completely different...

I'm having a small war with my pants. Or maybe it is with pants makers. It all started a few weeks ago when I braved the mall on a mission to find talls for a tall friend. While there, the attentive sales people in Eddie Bauer spotted my cord lust and convinced me to try the "curvy" cut. While they are soft and lovely, curvy cuts apparently end at the top of my hip bones -- about a mile from waist. They also, well, curve around where I curve, so I'm feeling sort of extra out there. Where I am really struggling is in the lowness of the cut in the back. They are still a bit too big in the "waist" (for lack of a better term, since this top part of the pant is really no where near my waist!) and they are low, so when I bend or sit, unless I am careful: coin slot. Noooooooo. How do people live like this? I think the pants are kind of cute when I'm feeling cute (I notice I like them best right after I've been to the gym) and when I'm standing or walking, but sitting is strange and I find my self hiking them up a lot even though they are in no way too big for me.

Okay, so this is totally inane, but its been a long week and the drugs in my system are leaving me a bit hazy and the papers are still not graded... and so I'm thinking about my pants.

radio silence

2009-12-11T04:31:00.003-05:00

It has been a long time since I've had anything to say on here, it seems. I think that is mainly because all I have wanted to say to internet-land for the last couple of weeks is, "OUCH!" What began with a strange pain/weakness in my right hip the morning I hopped out of bed to fly to California in mid-October has become a constant, painful companion of late. I recognize the patterns from chronic pain of the past... I'm struggling to focus, to do what I need to do, to get out of the house. I'm terrified that if I stop moving now, I'll stop moving for good.

Some progress with the doctors reveals that it is some damage happening to my L5 nerve root happening in my lower back that is sending the shooting pain and painful numbness down my right leg. My lower leg burns. Even my toes tingle painfully with numbness. Not surprisingly, I've maxed out on ibuprofen so that I can function a bit but by the time evening rolls around, I'm more often than not crawling off to bed whimpering. But then at some ugly hour (usually beginning with a 4 - or 5 if I am really lucky) I'm up, howling in pain. Really, I've found myself howling. I was actually screaming in my car the other day while stuck at a light on a 5 minute drive: the pain had flared up, I had to get out of the car, but I was stuck.

I've got some better drugs, but I'm not taking them now (4:40am) because it is my morning to drive the carpool for middle school. And then there are meetings. And a sizable stack of term papers that must be graded. I will, however, take the prednisone I started yesterday. Yesterday was a better day than I've had in a while, so maybe there is some hope but then the system is doing a crappy job of finding me a specialist to see and a place for physical therapy. There is much more waiting ahead of me. I call the doctor and wait. The nurse calls me back, but only half my questions are answered. So she goes back to the doctor and I wait. Then the referral is not clear, so the clerk has to find the doctor and I will wait some more.

In the meantime, I'm feeling somewhat paralyzed by my partial diagnosis (we now the nerve group but won't know how it is being impinged until I get the MRI next week). In the meantime, should I go to the gym? It feels okay when I am there, crappy after, then (after a nap) I generally feel better for the rest of the day. I have felt myself getting weaker, especially in the last two weeks, sometimes I'm shuffling when walking.... This terrifies me. Maybe the gym makes me feel better because I let myself think I am fighting the decline and confirms that I can still move. But what if I'm making it worse?

Half

2009-11-21T19:25:00.003-05:00

When my children are with me, I am half full. To be connected with them, I feel very disconnected from the world of grown ups. I have little individual existence/identity. I often find myself not doing things I want/need to do (such as reading) and instead waiting for the next thing I need to do for them. And engaging with them involves a fair amount of negotiation, persuasion, cajoling... even for things they want to do. But we do connect, especially when they are with me for longer stretches. We had an interesting discussion about puberty in the car yesterday. Today we put the yard to bed for the season. But then they drop into legoland, a book, or a friend and I'm just waiting for the next thing I need to do and I feel the gulf between their world as kids and my adult status. I'm the one in charge. The one who makes money, buys food, makes plans, arranges transportation. makes the big decisions...

And when my children are gone and the world is a bit more about me, I am more like half empty. In those times, I am independent and the enormity of that is almost overwhelming. I feel like I waste large chunks of it. I should be riding my bike, writing my book, getting drunk, and kissing people. But I never seem to get that much out of it.

I'm feeling the frustration of neither situation feeling right. Both leave me so very tired. And I'm feeling at a loss as to how to fix it and find some sort of middle ground where the pieces of me fit together.

Go Team

2009-11-05T19:19:00.003-05:00

Teaching a seminar with six students who are doing group-based research projects for community partners is pretty damn fun. Okay, there was a heapin' helpin' of anxiety-inducing work to set it up, but now that it is underway, I'm just having a blast. I've decided that this is because my relationship to them is markedly different than in most classes. I'm not there to present material. I'm not making up the assignments (well, I sort of did, but that was based on the needs of the community partners), and it doesn't even really look like I'm responsible for the deadlines (though I mostly am).

Rather than the "teacher," I am a resource. I am a mentor. I should be that for all my classes, but I'm not. I think the difference is partly that there is someone bigger and scarier than me or their grades out there - the community partners. The goal is also bigger -- it is not just about them as individuals and their grade. It is about the projects, projects that have a purpose in the real world. Whatever its source, there is a real "team" feeling to our meetings. They ask my advice, they share their anxieties, they offer to help, they get excited... and they think I'm on their side. And I am.

Step one: kill the parents

2009-10-02T16:39:00.003-04:00

I watched "Star Wars: A New Hope" with the kids last night. Like so many good adventures that kids are into, the first step is to off the parents or guardians (it is of course Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru who must fall prey to the storm troopers in order for late adolescent Luke to follow his destiny). Virtually every book E reads (she's big into fantasy-adventure books) and many of O's involve the tragic end of the 'rents. It makes me more than a little uncomfortable when we read or discuss these together. So asked E the other day what she thought of this, if she had noticed the trend... Yes, I was secretly hoping she would tell me that it was okay and I'm so cool and adventure-friendly that I absolutely must accompany her as she retrieves the lost amulet from some ancient land or whatever. But she didn't. She said, "of course they have to die, parents don't let you do cool stuff."

Not you again!

2009-10-02T16:15:00.005-04:00

As I was headed from one side of campus to the other yesterday, I passed a student I'd had in class several years ago. My first thought was "jeez, is he STILL here?"

You see, he had not been a particularly pleasant student to have. He had something to say about everything -- and his not having done the reading, his comments not being connected to the time or topic we were talking about, did not slow him down in the least. My lecturing did not slow him down either. He would raise his hand over and over again, but if not recognized within ten seconds, he would jump in and just start talking. I fell into the habit of lecturing with my hand up (in a "talk to the hand" sort of way) in order to let him know that I saw him but that I was not giving up the floor.

As you can imagine, the other students came to despise him. They were wonderful about it though, they learned to call him out for not having read (I'm so proud!) asking where he saw that (silly)idea in the reading and showing him where in the reading there was evidence that totally contradicted the idiotic thing he had just said. Anyway, we all muddled through and I heard tales of him going on to torture my colleagues in a similar manner and then I went on sabbatical and stories about him faded... but there he was yesterday. And I successfully dodged him. Whew.

But later it occurred to me that it doesn't really matter. I can avoid him on campus and hope he doesn't show up in any more of my classes, but there will be others. He is a type... and just like I have the sardonic student, the charming smart student who doesn't do work up to their potential, the jesus-loving student who wants to convert me, the diligent but shy student almost every term, the student with no sense of humor, etc., etc., I will have this student -- the one who talks too much but has nothing to say and is completely socially clueless again. The super annoying student from my class last fall, the one who I thought for sure would have flunked out by now, even showed up in my on-line class this term and has already asked for an extension. When I saw him on the class list, I wished him gone, but it's same deal. If it not him, there would be someone else to fill this slot. There must be one student in every class who begs for extensions and never actually does the work. Sigh. Remind me again that I am supposed to see each of my students as a unique and beautiful snowflake...

Just try it....

2009-09-23T22:17:00.003-04:00

As I made egg salad tonight for the kids' Thursday lunches, I considered adding some green olives, maybe some shredded carrot, flat leaf parsley... but then, sigh, I realized that the chances of them eating it if I did anything new to it were slim to none. How did I end up here?

For dinner tonight I made polenta and veggie brats with some garden veggies on the side. O didn't even make it to the table before announcing that he would not eat the polenta. But see, he has always loved polenta. I remind him of this but he is adamant that no polenta will be consumed by him. I serve him other things. Then he scoops up polenta, puts it on his plate, eats it down and goes back for seconds. We run through a version of this scenario almost every night.

E is just now old enough to understand that what there is for food is what there is and she will generally eat it (unless it is mushrooms or onions) even if she does not love it. But even tonight, she couldn't resist a little jab that only the crispiest polenta was any good.

The fussiness of children (and mine are actually not that bad compared to some I'm met) when it comes to food is nothing new, but I realized tonight with the egg salad how much I've given in to it. There is a whole list of stuff I just do not cook because of the response it will get -- sometimes before it is even tasted. The eggplants I grew in the garden are still on the vine, because I can't see the point in cooking them only to have them rejected. But I love eggplant.

Besides narrowing my repertoire, I realize that I've taken to making food the same way over and over. The stir fry (a staple around here) usually has the same veggies and tofu (small people reject the tempeh I love) in it every time, for example. And it is the same deal with the egg salad. I've never put green olives in before, so I'm reasonably sure the kids would look with horror at their sandwiches tomorrow if I added some now.

Where all of this leaves me is with a new found appreciation of my grandmother who has never ever made any dish the same way twice. Marinara sauce is more a category of saucy foods than an actual recipe. Almost anything savory is likely to be put in a roux and served over toast at lunch at her place. While people in my family have used some of her more unusual combinations of ingredients as fodder for jokes, I've now decided she was on to something. She has managed everyone's expectations so that she can insert some measure of creativity and diversity in 'standard' dishes. She could put green olives in the egg salad and everyone would just chuckle and then EAT IT.

Cycling The Cotswolds

2009-09-14T14:15:00.005-04:00

Hired a cycle at the Toy Shop in town. This is some of what I saw/did:

Morten-in-Marsh (and yes, they say the whole name every time!)

2009-09-13T17:13:00.001-04:00

The Bell Inn, Morten-in-Marsh. I finally found a place to stay for the night and managed to not break the bank. And it is in a pub. With wireless. It was a long search up and down the high street with some kindly mis-guidance from very friendly locals but I now have a roof over my head, a slice of lasagna in my belly, and a pint in my hand. Now I can relax.

Here is the beer garden of my current abode, as viewed from the window of my room. Nice, eh?

Five Things

2009-09-13T14:24:00.003-04:00

...I’ve decided I like about the English: The lilting, up-down-up way they roll out my first name; shops that sell seven different kinds of veggie sausages; colleges that have bars; duvets on every bed; grand halls.

My favorite gargoyle

2009-09-13T14:22:00.000-04:00

At the Sheldonian.

Puzzling Bits

2009-09-12T14:30:00.002-04:00

A few things that puzzle me about the English:
1. hot and cold taps are completely separate, making washing your hands in warm water nearly impossible.
2. their soft-spokenness that actually seems to increase with the size of the audience to whom they are speaking.
3. doors labeled clearly as “fire exits” that are the everyday and only exits from a building
4. their propensity to begin every conversation with a compliment – even if they are completely opposed to you, your argument, or the situation at hand
5. the lack of public toilets. Really, it’s not just that I look for such things in a professional capacity! I’ve been wandering around the city – a city that is full of tourists – and there is nowhere to pee! Much of the city center is taken up by these private colleges, so there is nothing to be found there (not even in the Bodleian library!) and the little pastry and sandwich shops that occupy every third or fourth storefront either don’t have these facilities, or they have them well hidden!