The rest of the week 1

Our thought behind this trip was to go somewhere where we could experience the great food, the culture and still make sure Z would have some fun. Hence the villa with a pool and our close location to two coasts--the heel of the boot divides the Adriatic from the Ionian seas. We went to the Adriatic that first Thursday. We didn't quite get how the whole umbrella/lounge chair thing worked so we just went to lunch and ordered great mussels au gratin, proscuitto with melon, and Z's omnipresent spaghetti with butter. Erik's mom, the veg, ordered seafood pasta which might have been her undoing but she tried a shrimp and some scallops. At least she didn't order the spaghetti ai ricci which, we discovered later, was spag with sea urchins.

Back from Italy Lecce 1

It was lovely. In many ways.
This is the positive post. I'll have a "What I wanted from Italy, what I got," more grumpy post tomorrow. But today. Today I will try to detail all of the great adventure that was great.

One negative that will have to come first: My hard drive crashed on the first day. It worked in Rome. I turned on the laptop at the aeroporto and then turned it off when they wanted 9.99 E to access the internet. When we got to the "villa" (quotation marks explained soon), I turned it on and the black screen with white letters read: "No internal drive found. Please press F1. Try to re-seat drive." F1 pressed. Hard drive reseated (using kitchen knife to unscrew small screws). Nothing but black screen from now on.

So. Hard drive free I got to "enjoy" my vacation in the manner that one enjoys rehab.

We flew from Rome to Brindisi, Zoe, Erik and I. We actually met up with Erik's parents in Brindisi, then drove, thanks to in-laws renting a car, toward Lecce, the main city near our villa-compound. We arrived at the compound at 4:00, tired but determined to stay awake until at least 8. Our hosts left us with some snacks upon which we snacked and then we ventured into Merine (Ma--REEN--ay) to the Non Solo Cafe (meaning they never close--unlike everything else between the hours of 13:00 and 19:00). My Italian comes in a tiny bit handy so we can get a table but Erik's stepdad, Rick, does a better job actually ordering us whole pizzas rather than the pizza-sandwiches available at the counter. I order us some house wine (rosso) and we eat what we can and then drive back to finally sleep.
The next day, we go into Lecce. They call this the Florence of the South. Having never been to Florence, I'll have to take their word for it.
Here's a picture of Lecce. We spent much time here since this book shop was across the street from the Internet Point--which I visited once a week or so. The first food was among the best. We tended to eat big lunches out and dinners at home. At this somewhat British-themed restaurant, we ate Ravioli with walnut sauce, pizza, and antipasti with duck prosciutto, wild boar, and some kind of delicious goose lardo.

What I want from Italy

The best prosciutto I've ever had.
A cheese I've never heard of.
A scene that reminds me of Ovid.
One that makes me think of Virgil.
One that reminds me of John Fowles The Magus.
Some distance from my obsessions.
A return to blogging?
A behavior modification that lets me learn to roll with the punches (i.e. fly across the Atlantic without panicking, sleeping on a lumpy bed, 3 hour dinners that I fall asleep in the middle of, 5 a.m. travel, not worrying about the cat, plus more, much more).
A revised food book. A new proposal--who comes first? Must I be driven by my desires/appetites? When can you put someone else's bodily desires before yours? A man's? A child's? A chicken's?
A swim or 20 in the Adriatic.
A plan for next year.
A little bit of a sun tan.
One conversation in Italian where I don't sound like a complete idiot.
A taste of something I never suspected that I would love so much I will, after my return, always pine for. Or maybe I already said that when I noted the cheese...

Random things

I'm going to do that 25 random things list but only one at a time. And maybe not all of them.

But here's one.

I have never used bleach without spilling getting some on whatever I'm wearing. Or, it's not even like I spill. I'm soooo careful. I pour it over the sink. I hold my arms out as far as my hands will take them. I wrap the bleached item in a towel or pour the bleach in the wash using something as overly-cautious as a pour spout. Today, I wasn't even wearing what I'm now wearing when I was playing with bleach. But somehow, the bleach puddled or pooled or melted through whatever barrier was between me and the bleach. Now there's big caustic stain on my brown skirt. I'm thankful the whitish-brown splotch is at the top and I can pull my shirt over it, but I can't get passed the feeling that my skirt is tainted, and therefore permanently ruined.

What kind of summer is this?

This is not turning out to be a normal end of the semester. Usually, by now, I've watched 18 episodes of Top Chef and started writing to make up for the last two month's non-writing festival I call teaching. And coordinating the "area." And planning on a visiting prof at the end of the month. But, even before turning in grades, I took off for Tucson for a weekend of swimming and applying sunscreen. I still smell like chlorine and sunscreen--it was magnificent. But also crazy because I came home to grades and visiting prof plans and meetings and appointments and oh yeah a presentation I gave this morning and then do laundry and pack for a camping trip this weekend.
Also: with housesitters? One feels compelled to leave less than 1,000 dirty sunscreened, footprints on the floor.
All of this is in preparation for the trip to Italy about which at this point I can only complain. It will take three days to get to Lecce. We have to drive down to Hub City on Sunday, get up at 5 to fly out from Hub at 7 on Monday, fly to Atlanta for 3 hours. Hang out in Atlanta for another 3 hours and then fly 10 hours into Tuesday, land in Rome, fly to Brindisi. Then, dumbly, I told my dean I'd check out our sister school in Siena where Egg and I will interview and film people about I don't know what. We'll get to our destination and then fly out again 4 days later from Bari to Florence, which is 1.5 hours away and whose flight leaves at 8. Meaning we wake up again at 5 and drive to the plane.
I'm sure/I promise that when I get there, I'll stop complaining about my so hard existence. Or maybe after the Siena part of the trip, when I'm back, fully sunscreened and chlorinated in the villa's swimming pool.
Perhaps I should have stayed in Tucson.

Cure for Insomnia Discovered

Cheerios.

Sleep

I woke up when Z woke up for milk and didn't go back to sleep. I think it was 3 or 4. I hope 4. I finally got up at 5:30 to eat some Cheerios. Now, of course, I might be able to go back to sleep but in an hour, I have to get up anyway.
Why is the end of the semester more stressful than during? I think it's this one foot still grading, one foot in summer business. And I don't feel I'm going into that collapse of summer. There's so much travel ahead. It seems as busy as work.
Just like with sleep, and that impossible place you get to when you are on the verge of falling and then think something stupid like "hey, I think I'm falling asleep," which then wakes you up, a too busy travel schedule interrupts what might have been actually relaxing.
But instead of agitating against the universe, I'll try to relax and travel simultaneously. It's like being asleep and awake--

My friend Craig is missing

Dr. Write, who called, and Hightouch, who blogged, made me realize that the "Find Craig Arnold" facebook was not a game or a hoax. Craig is really missing on an island in Japan. There's work to be done: John Gallaher posted some information about how to urge the searchers to keep looking for him.
I was just IMing with him like 4 days ago. Where could he be? I can imagine he just wandered off, deciding to become more familiar with the trees and the women of the forest. But I also know stupid things happen: falls, slips, disorientation. My hope: is that he got turned around on that 14 square mile island but has now rediscovered his compass and is heading back toward the inn and the people who know him.

Post party post

I am beat. I just went outside to "help" Egg trim the hedges. Such help included lying on the driveway. Z helped by taking a branch and pretending to saw like her dad, first asking Egg if "It's OK my use one of your branches?" One day she will stop saying "my" for "I" and it will be a sad day.
I came in to empty the dishwasher and make lunch. For lunch we are having leftover bacon wrapped water chestnuts! Pick out the toothpicks--rumaki is no longer an appetizer any longer. We're also having leftover cabbage and cucumber, which I had prepared to serve the tuna tartar. Now, tartarless, they'll be a great comb with the bacon and water chestnuts. I hope. The leftover (3/4 of a pound) tuna tartar is in the freezer along with the fully 2.5 lbs of ribs we didn't end up cooking. We couldn't. There was so much food.

This party made me feel grateful. Grateful to Egg who cleaned the office, went on an ill-fated trip to Arby's for lunch, went to World Market, fixed the drain on the upstairs bathtub and barbecued the ribs we did eat, for the graduate students who brought fruit salad and flowers, 15 avocados worth of guacamole, hummus, carrot-curry dip, and delicious artichoke dip, for the professors and staff who brought popcorn and chicken curry, stuffed mushrooms, homemade raisin bread (which I ate for breakfast) smoked salmon cream cheese and delicious miniature chocolate cakes and beautiful white flowers.

As I put the dishes away, I'm thankful for the platter I got for my wedding and the blue dish that set off the tuna tartar. I didn't end up talking to many people because I was always getting someone drinks or turning over the rumaki we did eat and then retrieving from the garbage, rinsing and recycling the plastic plates (I could reuse them but they still smell like curry. I still might go get them out of the recycling bin). But everyone was funny and kind and even though the kitchen was mobbed and the other rooms just waiting for people to sit down in the comfortable seats, I felt pretty unstressed the whole night. I think I messed up a couple of people's names and maybe overstated my plans for the Lit Mag before the current staff finished up for the year, but overall, I put few feet in my mouth, went to bed with a mostly clean house and in general feel like this is a good department and I am so lucky to be able to host with my blue plates, Korean bbq ribs and tuna tartar (though Egg thinks maybe he and I ate it all--which is fine with me!) and chopsticks and comfortable chairs, a pretty good party.

There's leftover wine to boot. And much hope that by tomorrow I'll be fully recovered.

Hosting

I used to host parties a lot. I think though I burned out on big parties after I made a hors d'oeuvre of deep fried crouton stuffed with "cassoulet" for Steve Fellner's goodbye party. But then also Z was born. I had family parties but no big shindigs. So, this weekend, I'm biting the bullet and throwing a party for my grad students and some English Dept. faculty. I'm making Korean bbq ribs, tuna tartare and edamame salad. I also asked everyone to bring an appetizer and drinks so I can be monetarily responsible with the pending furlough etc. I've never had a party where I invited my chair although I did have Thanksgiving in GR with almost all of my colleagues there. So I guess it won't be that weird.

I wish that Little Hands (should I even link, she who blogs no more?) and her people could have stayed for the party. They were here for nearly a week and it was one of the loveliest weeks I've had in a long time. And Little Hands is the best co-hostess. She made waffles for breakfast. I made frittata for lunch. She made Egg's entire birthday dinner--a whole turkey, mashed potatoes, turkey broth and strawberry-rhubarb pie (which we're eating the final bits of now). I did make the gravy and may have, against her will, made her a gravy convert. The next day, she made more waffles--this time with blueberries. I made open-faced sandwiches with turkey and gravy. We made spaghetti bolognese together. One night, we madenachos. (Egg made popcorn. For dinner!) Why is so much cooking so much less effort even when there's twice as many people to cook for when there are two of us?
We had a great trip: Slide Rock Park in Sedona, Oak Creek Brewery (with a bill that made us never want to eat out again), shopping at Gene's Western Wear downtown to buy Carharts for Little Hand's husband, a very fine western shirt for Egg and stuffed horses for the kids. We went running in the hail and snow and to wine at the wine bar. We went to the Skate Park for Little Hand's eight-year old and the regular park for Z and Little Hand's four year old. Z has not been the same since they left. She wants someone to play Crocodile with, stamps with, red-light-green light with, Tinkertoys and horses with. It's always when they leave that I feel guilty that Z is an only child. I think Little Hand's kids don't feel the absence of their cousin so much because they still have each other.
I did promise Z her best friend from school will be at the party on Saturday. It's not a cousin but it's better than nothing. I just wish Little Hands were here to help host.

Environmentalism as bad work ethic

Sometimes, two belief systems get in the way of each other. I try to make a slightly smaller impact on the environment. I also try to get some work done. But there are many ways that I've chosen to do a little bit to be less of a energy/resource glutton that have probably gotten me into a bit of trouble.
To wit:

• Letting students turn essays and poems in on Vista to save paper: This is fine in the abstract but students take the electronic deadline as a negotiable one. And I care and tell them they'll lose points for turning in late but if everyone does it, then the points don't really take or matter in the end anyway. And since I grade/comment the day before class, I don't care as much as I should.
• Speaking of grading or commenting: I grade/comment electronically to save paper. This means I give great, long narrative commentary but not so much of the grammar/proofreading variety. I will do "Track changes" on larger documents but that's only so helpful.
• My own writing: I revise online. Sometimes I'll print it out to great guilt. In revising this last project, I printed twice and revised from there. Perhaps this will appease the publishing gods.
• I try not to drive. So I go to campus less often than I would if I lived across the street. I go in twice as much here as I did in GR though, probably because campus is twice as close.
• Clean house: I hate to use paper towels. Sometimes, that's all that works. If I could use a paper towel each time I had to clean up a tiny spill, well, my table wouldn't look like this.
• Dog: She probably would be a lot thinner if I didn't try to save water by letting her be the pre-recycling, pre-dishwasher cycle that she's become.
• Yard: I'd try to grow some flowers or plants this summer if I didn't cringe at the water I'd need. However, we're planting wildflowers when the monsoons hit so it won't look exactly like a campground outside our house.
• Alerts, newsletters, etc.: I think I might have a better outcome if I put notices in my grad students' boxes. But instead, I send email reminders weekly. I'm wasting electrons as much as I'm wasting my time, since I'm pretty sure students have come to ignore my incessant emails.

I'm sure there are more instances but even if I find them, I'm not sure I'll reform. I pretend these little things make a difference.

Orange Marker

Zoe is covered in it. And since I believe this will be a random updating, starting with that random bit of information is a good start. She's drawing her letters. She just asked if she could draw a note on her hand or something. If she wants something and she's just thinking she's the first ever to come up with the idea of wanting that thing, she says, "Can we go to Fratelli's for pizza or something?" or "Can I have gummy bears or something?" As if something is an option.

Speaking of food I made the most delicious thing I've ever made. Last week, I went to my butcher (see? Mountain Town has some of the basic necessities) and asked if I should get a flank steak or something. He's prone to suggesting the prime rib eyes ($17.99 a pound. Haven't splurged yet. But did buy the Kobe beef burgers). He took a flank steak and said, let me do something first. So he took it, butterflied it, and put it through his tenderizer--I think he called it a ricer. I didn't look at it. I took it home and proceeded to convince Erik that we should go to dinner.
But on Sunday I decided to make the flank steak. Usually I marinate for an hour or so in something. I made up a Korean sauce with sesame oil and soy sauce. And then I waffled for an hour about whether I really wanted to make that. I looked online for awhile. I tried to convince Erik that I should do something new. He truly did not care.
So I found a recipe about braciole or pinwheels. I had none of everything. But I had some of a few things in some recipes. So I julienned some red pepper, some carrots and some scallions. I grated some fontina. On the one side of the steak, I layered the vegetables and topped with cheese. I rolled it up and stuck it shut with some gigantic skewers. Erik grilled the packages for 6 or 7 minutes a side.
We ate them with rice pilaf. I had never been so happy.
Tonight, I think I'll take that leftover rice and stuff some porkchops. With a little more fontina.

And, in the revising world, I'm working on the manuscript that did not win but finalisted. It's close I think. I re-read it today and didn't cringe. That's a good sign. I had to axe three whole chapters and might have to delete one more but I complicated one of the already complicated essays and in doing so, think I found the narrative thread through the whole thing.

And I'm happy that Hightouch and Dr. Write invited me to poetate this April. I'm already behind but I'm trying to keep up with their good work.

It's snowing here. We're staying in even though it's Gallery Stroll downtown. We went in March and it was super fun but cold then. We'll go in May when there's a 50% chance it will be warm. It's supposed to be 64 degrees here on Monday!

Edited to add. Actually, it's snowing sideways. The snow's smacked up against the east side of the trees. Erik is says we're just getting the tail end of the storm--flicked like an alligator.

Languages

I used to think I was good at learning languages. I started taking German in the 8th grade. I kept taking it every year until in high school I progressed out of the sequences and they brought in a woman to teach three of us--Pete, Alyssa and me--the 6th year German course. By the end of that year, I thought I knew German pretty well. That year, I went to Germany with my family. From the hotel room, I ordered towels. The housekeeper responded in English. Apparently, either my knowledge or pronunciation could have used a 7th year.
At Reed College, we had to take a third year language course in our English major. I thought, no big deal. I'll test out of that first year.
Not so much. I do think I got an A in first year. And I studied with my boyfriend who grew up with grandparents who spoke German (who is now also strangely living in Arizona. Thanks FB.) and therefore got A's and B's in second year German. Third year German, I read Perfume, The Clown, The Sleepwalkers, and the Magic Mountain--in translation--but read a few pages of each in the original German.
At the U, to graduate, you had to be proficient in one language or competent in two. I took the German test for proficiency. I translated the strangest passage about bees. I have no idea what that had to do with the title of the piece, which was something like "Disorientation in Adorno's Metaphor." Or maybe that wasn't the title at all, for I did not pass that test.
I high-tailed it to Spanish. I could never remember what aufrichten meant in German. I had a hard time with the verbs that cut themselves in the middle and the prefix is tossed to the end of sentences like: Ich richte meine Mutti auf. That could mean I called my mom up, out or bought her a sweater. "Auf," a preposition, can mean at, to, on, or upon. "Auf" can also be an accusative or dative perposition meaning that the articles, die, der or das, changed depending on how auf is used.
Although I may not understand German, I understand German grammar better than English.
Spanish proved easier because I already understood that sometimes verbs are reflexive, like "me gusta" and that adjectives can come after the noun "the cornflower blue." Again, the words didn't stick that well. Egg and I once tried to help a guy move his car. He spoke only Spanish. I kept (in my version of the story, Erik says this, but I really don't know which of us brought out the heavy cannons of translation skill) saying "Parko el caro." I think that means are parrots expensive here.
Now I'm trying to learn Italian. I have a language tape for my iPod. It's 70 minutes long so I listen to one half when I run one day, the second half the next running day. Over and over. There's fancy music in the background. The Italian woman who teaches me is named Philomena. I understand "mi piaci" is "me gusta" in Italian. I get "I would like," is "vorrei" in Italian and "Ich moechte"(the o should have umlauts but Blogger won't let me umlaut. The e suggsts umlaut) in German.
I had to look up how to spell "vorrei" since I only know the sounds of the words from Philomena. I presume, by the time I get to Italy, I will know how to order a towel in Italian. (Vorrei un asciugamano?) I expect that someone will counter with, "You'd like a towel" just to be sure I'm not asking for a wiry ice cream (gelato asciutto). I do think I know how to order a bottle of wine, red(vino rosso) and some bread (del pane), which is, in the end, all I probably need to know.

Green

My friend Steve has a new blog about poetry--gay men and gay critics specifically but also about the poetry world in general. Steve's writing voice is one of my favorites--both smart and sweet. I don't know how to be that vulnerable with words.

In response to Dr. Write's posting about the end of blogs, I do fear for the blog. People post less frequently, it seems. Facebook is OK but it's not as revealing. To me, it's a good way to remember I have friends but not a good way to actually learn anything more than I didn't already know. So, in honor of Dr. Write's Long Live the Blog, I updated my blog colors. Maybe one day, I'll make my own graphic. Maybe one day, I'll choose a more reasonable blog name. I thought Otterhead would be funny but now I can't remember why. When I updated, I accidentally lost all my links so there's new ones and old ones but if somebody wants me to add theirs, I'm happy to.

And in honor of more than you didn't already know I will tell you that I called some people in the department to invite them to dinner tonight--impetuously! Spontaneously! They, in turn, invited us over to their house instead which means I have a) a lot of food and b) might have to impetuously/spontaneously invite different people over tomorrow. I'm working on the making of real live friends. We'll see how it goes.

And, in Zoe news, she would like you to know that we have three flowering croakersez.

And I'm still revising a research proposal and a book proposal and an essay. I think the essay is nearly done, thanks to Steve. One day, I'll write something new. I think it will be about grilled cheese. Stay posted.

Saving Daylight

Good morning ye who are wondering where that hour went, thinking man, that sun is pretty low for 9:15. But ye people know that spring has arrived. Or will shortly and you can look forward to warm evenings when the sun sets at 9 or even 10. When we were in Michigan, right near the solstice, the sun wouldn't set until almost 10:30.
But now we are here. Where the Republicans don't like to switch time. Where there's some thinking that in Phoenix, it will be hot for a shorter amount of the day. I suppose one sleeps through an hour of extra sun?
But up here, it's not so great. First of all, I like daylight savings. I think everyone, everywhere should always wake up later and drive home in the light. In the summer, I like sitting outside until midnight. But when the sun goes down, at least up here, in this desert mountain town, so does the temperature. Therefore, inside we go, tamping out the fires in the fire pit and closing up the blinds at 8:30.
Perhaps I will spend the day writing an ode to Daylight Savings.
I look forward to going home next week where home isn't just a place, it's an altered, and therefore perfect, time zone.

Harper's

Life is listy. That's all there is to it. No matter what happens, I really only have snippets. I think it's like film--everything has its own frame and then we move onto the next. There really is no time for narrative or transition. There's only time for complaining. Sadly, I don't expect my index to be pithy or insightful like Harper's, but at least it's a different kind of list.
So this week, by the numbers:
Number of presentations and readings for graduate student conference: 2.
Number of panels attendended at grad school conference: 2.5.
Number of hours at the grad student reading fest: 3.
Number of classes taught: 3--2 regular, one independent study.
Number of colds Z almost recovered from: 1.
Number of new cold Z seems to have come down with: 1.
Number of times home after 7:00 this week: 4.
Number of preschooler performances: 2.
Cost, in dollars, of echocardiogram in Mountain Town: 3440. (Nothing is wrong--just an expensive test that revealed overall good health. I do not like, however, to be on the side of feeling sorry for an insurance company).
Cost, in dollars of echocardiogram at Harvard: 1400.
Number of needle sticks: 3 (again, more tests to confirm overall good health).
Number of movies working on with Egg: 2 (one about poetry another about our sister school in Italy).
Meetings about said movies: 2 (and one more next week).
Emails sent about said movie to student-poets and fellow professors: 15.
Number of visitors from an MFA program down in the valley, wanting to talk to me about the future: 1 (the future of what? I'm still not entirely clear).
Number of courses I'll be teaching next year: 3-3.
Number of courses I was going to be teaching, until last week: 2-2.
Number of would-be adjuncts bringing me their CV's even though I told them that we're not hiring adjuncts because faculty loads just changed: 3.
Number of emails from Provost threatening to let first year TT faculty go: 1.
Number of phone calls from Chair saying not to worry: 1.
Number of meetings with Chair over area recommitments: 2.
Number of finalists for a certain big prize: 4.
Percentage of those finalists of which I was one: 25.
Number of winners of said award: 0.
Letters written because of lack of awarding of award: 1.
Number of letters written from me & Z to relatives: 5.
Number of summer grants awarded to me: 0.
Number of essays sent out on my behalf from my agent: 1.
Number of hats found: 0.
Number of people who made me happy, commenting about said hat: 21.
Number of poetry contests submitted to: 6.
Number of glasses of wine to survive week: 6 (teen?)
Number of Burn Notices on DVR to watch: 1.
Number of spoilers about Top Chef read about on blogs: 1.
Number of proposals written to agent: 4.
Number of chances to write one more perfect proposal: 1.
Number of proposals I should be writing right now: 1.
Number of naps I think I'll take instead: 1.

Have you seen my hat?

I lost my hat on the second day of AWP. I recommend all of ye bookfair wanderers, panel-goers, anxiety sufferers and ennui-filled writers to lose your hat at AWP. Did I have to search for agents, publishers, magazines, books, professors who forgot me, friends who look at me bewilderingly? Did I have to worry about my talk at the panel? No, I did not. Because I had lost my hat and spent the next 2.5 days looking for it. A little OCD is good for the wandering soul.

Overall, the AWP was great success. I saw nearly everyone I meant to and had at least one drink with each of them meaning I had too many drinks but got to see all the good people. The panel was great even though at 9 in the morning on a Saturday. It was jam-packed with people sitting even in the aisles. The readings I went to were all pretty good and the buzz overall positive. Professors talked to me. No one turned their heads. The magazines and publishers shook my hand.

I always get home expecting something major to happen, but I do that after every trip. I need to focus on the one thing. That is the getting back of the hat. Which is somewhere, lost in Chicago. But I miss it. And maybe it will return to me. It was gray wool with tassles and one yellow and one orange stripe across the top. It was lined with black flannel so the wooly outsides did not make my head itch.

I would like my hat back but if that is impossible, I would like it to please be spring so I have no need for a hat.

Oh Wait,. We're still here.

OK. Welcome to AWP's dumb planning for the 2nd year in a row. Last year, my flight from GR to NYC, which left at 6:00 a.m. and included one snowplow buried Jetta, four frozen doors on the 4 Runner that I couldn't open, a slide into a Lexus SUV and a canceled flight. The flight was canceled not from snowy GR but into snowy Laguardia.

Today, I am in sunny Phoenix, again awaiting a delayed and possibly canceled flight.

F**k AWP and their winterly conferences.

I'm on the verge of canceling all my Chicago plans and hanging out in the Phoenix, which though an evil and unneccsary town, is 80 degrees and full of good food and wine. Just like Chicago without the OHare and the wind. I'll give my panel to the cacti. They'll probably be more interested anyway.

Edited to add I had to write f**k because Sky Harbor has rules. Stark and Draconian and Mormony rules.

Did I mention f**k? I think so. Perhaps I'll go find the Tequilaria. Again.

Snow Afternoon

Erik says my blog is getting list-rutty. It's been a listy semester so far, and I mean that in terms of bullet points and tilt. Today, I chaired my first thesis prospectus meeting. And then I hung out in my office and revised and revised and emailed and emailed students until the news came the campus was closed.

It snows a lot here, when it snows. And then it gets sunny and the snow melts. And then it gets snowy again.

I'm making mushroom soup tonight.

See why I write bullet points? I have nothing particularly coherent to say.

I leave for Chicago on Wednesday, should the snow stop and the planes fly.

Perhaps then I'll have something to say after AWP???

Fun fun fun

I wanted to write a post about how I'm trying to learn to have fun but it's complicated and I don't think I'm very good at it--having fun or writing about fun. It's much easier to write about work. It just takes lists!

Z started full time school this week. Very stressful. Also, the university's budget was cut by 13%. Egg or I may or may not have a job next week. And I have agent troubles. So maybe work is fun. At least it distracts from the anxiety.

Work has included yesterday and today:

• Take Z to first day of all day school.
  
• Meet teachers and find out where to put her lunchbox, blanket, pillow and water bottle.
  
• Worry she'll cry when I leave. Just a nervous glance and then she turned to ask her teacher what to play.
  
• Meeting about budget. 2 hours. Really?
• Talk with Mary Anne about Food Book. (thanks Mary Anne!)
• Make a plan to implement Mary Anne's suggestions.
• Pace a little about book. Ask Egg to read a section.
  
• Make BLT's for me and Egg.
• Read Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror (3 hours) and Thomas and Beulah (1 hour) for Independent Study I'm teaching.
• Find criticism to support both books as allegory. A stretch? Possibly.
• Rememorize Pound's Erat Hora as it applies to Convex Mirror
  
• Write chapter synopses for food book.
• Pick Z up from her all day school.
• Much cuddling with Z required.
  
• Leave to meet with Independent Study Grad Students.
• Eat fondue with said students while discussing Self-portrait and backwards falling language, modernism, post-modernism, margins and seams with students.
• Come home, play dogs with Z.
• Watch old The Closer to keep up with Lisa B.
• Change bedsheets because I love new sheets and the news was impossible to watch because apparently we can't watch one channel and record another on our DVR (I thought that was the point of our DVR).
• Read Shouts and Murmurs (mice and wine) and begin Atul Gawande's plan for National Healthcare (New Yorker Jan 26).
• Sleep on clean bedsheets.
• Wake up at 7:45 because Z now has to be to school by 9 which is early for we people. She sleeps until 8:30 usually.
• Take Z to all day school.
• Come home--run through snowy forest.
• Work on Teach-In Day presentation for Thursday.
• Make lunch of smoked turkey leg, sliced fennel, and spring mix.
• Talk to long-lost friend for 1.5 hours. Yay!
• End up late for advising hours in advising center.
• Forget book for teaching. Panic. Call Egg to see if he'll bring me book. He will but....
• Student from upcoming class comes in to advising center.
• Get student to lend me book so I can make copies for class.
• Talk to said student for 1 hour about creative writing versus rhet comp, the 7 points of physical fitness--strength, flexibility (and 5 other points I didn't quite catch), robots, linguistics and epigenetics.
• Talk to student who is late to apply for graduation but I do highly powerful advising by signing off on science credits and dropping her 2nd major and 2 minors.
  
• Talk to new grad student about degree progress and course distribution.
• Get another email about budget. Freak out on phone with Egg.
• Write a prompt for class that starts in 15 minutes.
• Discuss two poems in class. Accidentally give a lesson on semiotics and the gnostic gospels (I do apologize, fine students).
• Get in an heated discussion with one student about why she shouldn't use so many abstractions as love, beauty, loss, hurt, miss, forever in a poem. I may have lost the fight but will win the war. I told her to write a poem against me/my arguments. I presume it will turn out particularly concrete and specific.
• Run Top Chef--this time, whichever group argued best for the poem won.
• Talk with another student about abstractions.
• Help Z peel potatoes for dinner.
• Fry up said potatoes which will underpin Egg's all-day cooked green chile sauce.
• Play puzzle with Z.
• Wonder why I have so few emails today.
• Read books with Z.
• Sing her to sleep.
• Check email again.
• Blog.
  
• Watch, in perfect synchronicity with yesterday, The Closer--though this one is new.

See. Lists. Fun and worky.