Experiment: tired blogging. My day: Up/shower/dress girl/dress girl/drive/eat/prep/teach/throw student out of class while using the "s" word/conference/conference/conference/teach/get hit by hail/teach/meeting/email students/email staff/email faculty/make flyer/post flyers while counseling a student about new girlfriend/drive/eat/talk to Jeff/write union minutes/write BLOG@! Holy crap!
I'm thinking about a friend who is splitting with her husband during this Great Recession, and remembering splitting with mine, transcontinentally, in 1998. Neil Young's "Birds" playing over and over. I didn't shed a tear until I went to an on-campus counselor and said, "I think I'm getting a [SOB!] divorce!!" It was awful, even though I was newly in school and had all-new Ikea furniture in my new apartment.
And I keep thinking about her. And how fucked it is.
Stuff I'm grateful for this week:
New/old cabinets Jeff saw while running, for free, which we miraculously got to first, and even more miraculously, go perfectly in our kitchen. They need some love, and will probably cost us more in the long run, but they are solid oak heavy duty old school lab cabinets.
I finished putting the aluminum can shingles on the birdhouse I bought from Ruben Godinez, a 25-year-old newish Napa friend, who died of meningitis two weeks after my money went into his hand. I didn't know him very well, but he was a special customer. RIP, Ruben. We launched the birdhouse by putting it (carefully--it weighs about 20 pounds) on the carport roof. Jeff wants me to put a teeny weenie satellite dish on it, and I want an equally teeny neon vacancy sign. I will post a picture as soon as I a. find the camera, b. charge it, and c. remember to.
I took a thyroid hormone test last week and my thyroid levels are HIGHER than they were before I had half of the damn thing out. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. I mean, if I didn't have cancer, it would be terrific: no hormone replacement would be needed. However, more thyroid hormone means more fuel for thyroid cancer...though I doubt that in the three months I'm still semi-thyroidal, anything bad could happen. Anyway, and in spite of all irrationality, it's kinda nice to know my body rallied like that. Go, little half-a-gland!
There is a small possibility that Jeff and I will be paid good money to work in Honolulu for two weeks this summer. Though it may be too good to be true, it may not be. I should know in the next week. I'm trying not to think about it.
Sophie can count to ten, and recite parts of her ABCs; for example, at random (like when her head is in the bottom cupboard), "Wai-zee-now-eye-no...." Lucy seems to know her numbers, but isn't as interested in saying them. Everything to her is "Na."
"Say toe, Lucy."
Lucy points to toe: "Na."
But she looks at you like she just said "toe."
Ok, my most profound comment of the day (directed to the dominatrix interviewed on NPR today): peppering your sentences with "sort of" (i.e. "It was just one of those...sort of...Proustian moments..." is so grad school pretentious/precocious. Like it's meant to prepare the listeners for...sort of...[watch me reach for] the arrival of a Big Word/Concept. Yes, we know you went to Sarah Lawrence. Unfortunately, though, your heroin habit, whether present or past, is not going to be a big help in getting you an academic job, even if Knopf...sort of...validated/sanctified it.
Sorry. I don't usually flame like this, but this habit is, as they say in Spain, muy pesada.
Ok, nighty night, forks.
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Yes, I was listening to a Berkeley student complaining about budget cuts on NPR last week. She was well spoken but used $1 words. Said she was a women and gender studies major, and I thought, yes, of course you are.
ReplyDeleteNa to you and yours.