One tends to forget that, with specialized equipment, one must have specialized tools. I set out this morning to change the oil in the infamous riding mower, but, without a wrench, it's a no-go.
I mowed part of the backyard, but stopped when I thought the rain was about to come. I drove the mower under the carport (I moved the car--I'm trying to keep from breaking any more windows!), and let it cool down for a bit. I tried to get the oil drain plug loose, really I did. But, without a wrench, it just ain't gonna happen. So, this means another trip to the hardware store or garden center in search of a set of wrenches that will help me loosen this plug. But, you know, even with the right tools, I may not be able to open the plug. The guys at the factory put these things on with hydraulic tools (same goes for the tires on the car) that make loosening them nearly impossible unless you've got the muscles of the Incredible Hulk. I may have to put in a call to one of my large brothers before I can change the oil. I finished mowing the backyard, anyway, and it looks decent. But no more complete yard mowing until I get the oil changed.
You'd be proud of me, though; I didn't think twice about firing that baby up! And I'm trying to be more creative when I'm doing yard work. While I was mowing today, I drove in figure eights. Who says you have to mow in a straight line?
Right now, I'm a bit ticked off at Symantec. Their Norton Internet Security download program has my computer tied up. I've tried four times to get to Internet Explorer and I can't. I can't stop the program except by shutting down the computer. I'm using Firefox to navigate around the Net while I'm waiting to see what Norton's going to do. Man, I need a Mac!
Yesterday, I baked two loaves of bread and some rolls (same recipe--just divided the dough). It's called "Farm Bread," and the recipe calls for honey instead of sugar. I keep forgetting, though, that homemade bread is much denser than the kind I buy at the store, but the result is well worth the effort!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Sourdough Starter and a Simple Bread Recipe
In a comment for my last post, a student mentioned her dad's sourdough starter. I thought I'd pass along some web sites that have instructions on how to create and care for a starter.
Try http://www.io.com/~sjohn/sour.htm. I found some good instructions there, as well as at http://www.countrylife.net/. Follow the links on this one. Or, just do a search on "sourdough starter" in any search engine. You should be able to find an easy recipe for that.
What you need to remember about starters is that (1) you need to feed it regularly and (2) you need to use it once in a while. If you don't do either, it turns into a sour-smelling lump of squishy dough and becomes useless! Trust me on this. And any site that provides the starter recipe will also provide directions on how to use it!
And, since I love to bake bread, let me pass on a really simple bread recipe:
2 2/3 cups Self-rising flour (this is important--it has to be self-rising, because that has the salt, soda, etc. in it)
Stir in any brand 12 oz. beer (doesn't matter if it's cheap or expensive)
Stir in half of the beer (no sipping!), mix well, then stir in the rest. The dough will be wet. Divide into two margarine-greased 9x5 loaf pans; bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes, remove from oven and turn onto wire rack to cool.
Tender on the inside, slightly crusty on the outside. It's almost as easy as using Bisquick! This is good bread, fit for company, even!
Try http://www.io.com/~sjohn/sour.htm. I found some good instructions there, as well as at http://www.countrylife.net/. Follow the links on this one. Or, just do a search on "sourdough starter" in any search engine. You should be able to find an easy recipe for that.
What you need to remember about starters is that (1) you need to feed it regularly and (2) you need to use it once in a while. If you don't do either, it turns into a sour-smelling lump of squishy dough and becomes useless! Trust me on this. And any site that provides the starter recipe will also provide directions on how to use it!
And, since I love to bake bread, let me pass on a really simple bread recipe:
2 2/3 cups Self-rising flour (this is important--it has to be self-rising, because that has the salt, soda, etc. in it)
Stir in any brand 12 oz. beer (doesn't matter if it's cheap or expensive)
Stir in half of the beer (no sipping!), mix well, then stir in the rest. The dough will be wet. Divide into two margarine-greased 9x5 loaf pans; bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes, remove from oven and turn onto wire rack to cool.
Tender on the inside, slightly crusty on the outside. It's almost as easy as using Bisquick! This is good bread, fit for company, even!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Instant Karma...and the recipe for Peach Honey
I stopped by the bookstore where I work part time to pick up a couple of monster zucchini from one of my coworkers. I really only needed one, but Neil brought me three--other than make zucchini-chocolate muffins, I'm stymied about what to do with them--they are good in lasagne, though. I'll check on the Internet. I can always find anwers to my questions on the Net. "Zucchini Recipes"--should be a sinch!
I pulled out of the parking lot and started towards home, when I began to hear some kind of "thwack, thwack, thwack" every time the car moved. I pulled over three times to check for what I thought might be a broken belt, though the car was driving just fine. I finally pulled into the Eastgate Shopping Center and checked again. Two strips of rubber/radial had come loose from the right front passenger tire. Those strips were making the "thwacking" sound as they hit the wheel well.
I called Gateway. I could have called my insurance company, for the third time since December, and gotten a tow, or Mazda, which would have cost me too much money, but I called Gateway Tire. The guys who own the company have always done a decent job on my car, be it tires or oil changes. They sent a guy to put the spare on. I drove over, and they installed four tires in about an hour. The price was decent, too, but, of course, I wasn't expecting to have to do this today. Silly me; "new tires" has been on my "To-Do" list since the summer began, which proves that, if you ignore something long enough, it's going to get your attention in an unpleasant and scary way.
I recommend these guys to everyone I know. My friend, David, told me that, when he had a flat tire, they sent a truck to his house to fix it. I don't know too many companies that will do that for their customers, new or long-term.
So, I can cross "tires" off my list along with "riding lawn mower." The last "big" thing to work on is the tiller. Neil gave me a line on a Black and Decker, so I know what I'm looking for.
I finally arrived home aroud 2:15pm and immediately set out to bake the muffins. I also made a "New Orleans Apple Cake"--I found the recipe in the newspaper while I waited for the new tires. And, of course, I had to sample both--not bad!
I just finished cleaning up the kitchen and coming down from my sugar high. Now for some real work!
As per Susan's request, the recipe for "Peach Honey" (which is absolutely delicious on bagels with cream cheese or butter, so I'm sure it will be great on biscuits or toast):
4 cups peeled, sliced peaches
4 cups sugar
juice of 1 lemon (or 2 to 3 tablespoons of lemon juice)
Combine sugar and peaches in a large saucepan; stir constantly over medium heat (really, the sugar liquifies because of the juice in the peaches) until mixture comes to a boil. When mixture boils, add lemon juice; continue to stir; bring mixture back to a boil and cook until thick (varies from about 15 to 30 minutes). Stir it constantly, though, so it doesn't burn.
Ladle mixture into hot, sterilized jars and seal.
Voila! Peach Honey. It's a bit "runny," but it tastes wonderful. After you open a jar, store it in the fridge and it will thicken a bit. The book this comes from, The Southern Country Cookbook, is vague on cooking times, etc. I wasn't sure if I should process the jars in a hot water bath after sealing them, because that wasn't in the directions, but I noticed that the cookbook tells the cook to do that with some recipes when it's warranted. I didn't process my jars after I sealed them, and they look fine--the jar lids sealed.
As for quantity, I used smallish Ball jars, and I ended up with about five half-pint containers the first and second time I made the honey, with a couple of very small jelly jars extra; the third batch, I ended up with one pint jar, two half-pints, and about a half of another jar. I refrigerated the partial jar. Oh, and, on the third batch, I added some fresh, sliced ginger to the sugar/peach mixture at the start. I tasted the syrup and it's good!
I pulled out of the parking lot and started towards home, when I began to hear some kind of "thwack, thwack, thwack" every time the car moved. I pulled over three times to check for what I thought might be a broken belt, though the car was driving just fine. I finally pulled into the Eastgate Shopping Center and checked again. Two strips of rubber/radial had come loose from the right front passenger tire. Those strips were making the "thwacking" sound as they hit the wheel well.
I called Gateway. I could have called my insurance company, for the third time since December, and gotten a tow, or Mazda, which would have cost me too much money, but I called Gateway Tire. The guys who own the company have always done a decent job on my car, be it tires or oil changes. They sent a guy to put the spare on. I drove over, and they installed four tires in about an hour. The price was decent, too, but, of course, I wasn't expecting to have to do this today. Silly me; "new tires" has been on my "To-Do" list since the summer began, which proves that, if you ignore something long enough, it's going to get your attention in an unpleasant and scary way.
I recommend these guys to everyone I know. My friend, David, told me that, when he had a flat tire, they sent a truck to his house to fix it. I don't know too many companies that will do that for their customers, new or long-term.
So, I can cross "tires" off my list along with "riding lawn mower." The last "big" thing to work on is the tiller. Neil gave me a line on a Black and Decker, so I know what I'm looking for.
I finally arrived home aroud 2:15pm and immediately set out to bake the muffins. I also made a "New Orleans Apple Cake"--I found the recipe in the newspaper while I waited for the new tires. And, of course, I had to sample both--not bad!
I just finished cleaning up the kitchen and coming down from my sugar high. Now for some real work!
As per Susan's request, the recipe for "Peach Honey" (which is absolutely delicious on bagels with cream cheese or butter, so I'm sure it will be great on biscuits or toast):
4 cups peeled, sliced peaches
4 cups sugar
juice of 1 lemon (or 2 to 3 tablespoons of lemon juice)
Combine sugar and peaches in a large saucepan; stir constantly over medium heat (really, the sugar liquifies because of the juice in the peaches) until mixture comes to a boil. When mixture boils, add lemon juice; continue to stir; bring mixture back to a boil and cook until thick (varies from about 15 to 30 minutes). Stir it constantly, though, so it doesn't burn.
Ladle mixture into hot, sterilized jars and seal.
Voila! Peach Honey. It's a bit "runny," but it tastes wonderful. After you open a jar, store it in the fridge and it will thicken a bit. The book this comes from, The Southern Country Cookbook, is vague on cooking times, etc. I wasn't sure if I should process the jars in a hot water bath after sealing them, because that wasn't in the directions, but I noticed that the cookbook tells the cook to do that with some recipes when it's warranted. I didn't process my jars after I sealed them, and they look fine--the jar lids sealed.
As for quantity, I used smallish Ball jars, and I ended up with about five half-pint containers the first and second time I made the honey, with a couple of very small jelly jars extra; the third batch, I ended up with one pint jar, two half-pints, and about a half of another jar. I refrigerated the partial jar. Oh, and, on the third batch, I added some fresh, sliced ginger to the sugar/peach mixture at the start. I tasted the syrup and it's good!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
A Peachy Day
When I woke this morning, the sun was shining--finally--and a cool breeze blew through the backyard. I drank my coffee and made my list.
Mr. Lester's Farm was my first stop. Unfortunately for me (fortunately for him), every other person in the area had the same idea that I had. His produce stand was packed and a photographer from Southern Living was on hand, snapping pics. I bought a cabbage for my mom, a jar of local honey, and a box of peaches ($14.50 a box--cheap and delicious!).
The grocery store was my next stop for some needed supplies, including some canning jars. Then I went to the Ace Hardware store to get lawnmower oil (I have to go back; I needed 48oz of oil and the two bottles I bought only add up to 40oz. I should wear my glasses! I'll go back tomorrow--then I'll change the oil in the lawnmower).
The entire trip took less than an hour. When I got back home, I opened up my copy of The Southern Country Cookbook, which I've owned since 1973. The last chapter of the book has recipes for jams, jellys, preserves, etc. I made something called "Peach Honey." It looks similar to preserves and it just consists of sugar, peaches and lemon juice. Cook until thick, ladle into sterilized jars, and voila! Great Christmas gift with a jar of muffin or biscuit mix.
And, since I'm overrun with tomatoes at the moment, I made a lasagne with tomatoes, yellow squash and zuchinni. Yum-my.
What I must do tomorrow: (1) change the lawnmower's oil; (2) mow the grass (if the rain stays away); (3) general housekeeping; (4) catch up on schoolwork.
Now, I'm off to read and grade papers and assignments. And, later, I'm going to try out my new blender and make a fruit smoothie!
Mr. Lester's Farm was my first stop. Unfortunately for me (fortunately for him), every other person in the area had the same idea that I had. His produce stand was packed and a photographer from Southern Living was on hand, snapping pics. I bought a cabbage for my mom, a jar of local honey, and a box of peaches ($14.50 a box--cheap and delicious!).
The grocery store was my next stop for some needed supplies, including some canning jars. Then I went to the Ace Hardware store to get lawnmower oil (I have to go back; I needed 48oz of oil and the two bottles I bought only add up to 40oz. I should wear my glasses! I'll go back tomorrow--then I'll change the oil in the lawnmower).
The entire trip took less than an hour. When I got back home, I opened up my copy of The Southern Country Cookbook, which I've owned since 1973. The last chapter of the book has recipes for jams, jellys, preserves, etc. I made something called "Peach Honey." It looks similar to preserves and it just consists of sugar, peaches and lemon juice. Cook until thick, ladle into sterilized jars, and voila! Great Christmas gift with a jar of muffin or biscuit mix.
And, since I'm overrun with tomatoes at the moment, I made a lasagne with tomatoes, yellow squash and zuchinni. Yum-my.
What I must do tomorrow: (1) change the lawnmower's oil; (2) mow the grass (if the rain stays away); (3) general housekeeping; (4) catch up on schoolwork.
Now, I'm off to read and grade papers and assignments. And, later, I'm going to try out my new blender and make a fruit smoothie!
Friday, July 06, 2007
A Very "Harry" Holiday...and More Rain Than I Can Stand!
Well, I had a six-day break from school (and I AM counting the weekend!), and, instead of doing much work, I re-read the last two Harry Potter books and watched the third and fourth movies. The Order of the Phoenix movie premiers on July 11th and the last book comes out on July 21. I'll be working that day (NOT for the midnight party--I've only worked one of those and that's all I needed to work), so I'll pick up the five copies I've pre-ordered. My sister in Houston gets one copy, my sister in Bossier gets two, I get one copy and I'll send one copy to my son in Austin. I plan to spend most of that weekend reading the new book; I read The Half-Blood Prince in two days, so I should be able to finish this one (which is considerably shorter, I've heard) during that weekend. The Potter books are great birthday presents for me--they usually come out a few days before my birthday, so I celebrate by buying myself a copy.
My biggest point of contention right now is the rain. I spent nearly $1000 on a riding lawnmower, and I haven't been able to mow the grass for almost two weeks because of this rain! Today, I drove into school early for an advising appointment (which the student cancelled at 7:45am--she called my school phone. That was about the time I left my house). Driving was fine until I hit the Caddo Parish line--then, the sky fell open. I could hardly see, the road flooded, and I had to reduce my speed considerably to avoid hydroplaning (but some idiots passed me doing 80, at least!). Only five students (out of 12) showed up for class, but we had a good talk. By the time I left the college, the rain had stopped in Caddo, but had moved south to Red River Parish (of course!); I drove home in the same rainstorm. Go figure!
I'm tired of rain. My garden is saturated; the potted plants overflow; the cats are going loony, running around the house to expend their energy. But I've discovered that they calm down if they have boxes to sleep in, so I've put boxes in several rooms for them. What is with that?
If the rain ever stops, I'm going to try to mow my grass, which is knee-high right now. I guess this is better than 115 degrees (Viva Las Vegas!), but I'm not so sure!
Stay dry!
My biggest point of contention right now is the rain. I spent nearly $1000 on a riding lawnmower, and I haven't been able to mow the grass for almost two weeks because of this rain! Today, I drove into school early for an advising appointment (which the student cancelled at 7:45am--she called my school phone. That was about the time I left my house). Driving was fine until I hit the Caddo Parish line--then, the sky fell open. I could hardly see, the road flooded, and I had to reduce my speed considerably to avoid hydroplaning (but some idiots passed me doing 80, at least!). Only five students (out of 12) showed up for class, but we had a good talk. By the time I left the college, the rain had stopped in Caddo, but had moved south to Red River Parish (of course!); I drove home in the same rainstorm. Go figure!
I'm tired of rain. My garden is saturated; the potted plants overflow; the cats are going loony, running around the house to expend their energy. But I've discovered that they calm down if they have boxes to sleep in, so I've put boxes in several rooms for them. What is with that?
If the rain ever stops, I'm going to try to mow my grass, which is knee-high right now. I guess this is better than 115 degrees (Viva Las Vegas!), but I'm not so sure!
Stay dry!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Sixteen Tons, again!
I worked at the bookstore for four hours today and managed to pack about 27 boxes of books to send back to publishers. Most of the boxes were small, around 10 pounds or so, but I managed to clear most of a bay of books. So, I got some work done.
Then I went to the grocery store. On my list I had "Coffee, cat food, toilet paper." So how did I spend $64? Well, I decided I needed bird food for my cockatiel, and for the wild birds (they really like black-oiled sunflower seeds, and I can't find them in the town where I live); I bought marjoram (I ran across a recipe that uses it); I bought six Lean Cuisine dinners (they were on sale--six for $10--a good deal); and, of course, I needed ice cream and a cheese grater (I can't find the one I had), and then I bought some Cheez-Its.
Do you see a connection between any of this? I don't, and I can't figure out how my brain works. It never takes me to the beer or wine aisles; I totally avoided the vegetable section and the canned goods' section. I had a list. So how did all the rest of this stuff end up in my basket? It's a mystery to me. But at least I have a good balance between the "diet food" and the junk food; I also have tomatoes and squash from the garden and a stockpile of frozen veggies to go with anything I choose to cook.
Besides reading student papers (a given), I have a few other projects to work on (Norton Oral History Project, Fall courses, mowing the grass at some point, weeding the garden), and I'll be working at the bookstore on Monday (8am to 5pm--a whole day--yikes!). I won't be idle on my "vacation," that's for sure!
I hope all of my students have a relaxing break! I've tried not to load them down with too much work!
Update on the Budster: We (the vet and I) think Buddy may have gotten into rat poison--what's called a "rodenticide anticoagulant." It's a poison that thins out the rat's blood and eventually kills it. If Buddy ate a rat that had eaten poison, or eaten some of the poison, that could have caused the "spontaneous" bleeding. The vitamin K pills seem to be working. Bud's doing fine, except when I have to give him his medicine. I have to wrap him in a towel to give him the meds so he doesn't scratch the hell out of me. He goes back to the vet in the morning to have his stitches removed. Hooray!
Then I went to the grocery store. On my list I had "Coffee, cat food, toilet paper." So how did I spend $64? Well, I decided I needed bird food for my cockatiel, and for the wild birds (they really like black-oiled sunflower seeds, and I can't find them in the town where I live); I bought marjoram (I ran across a recipe that uses it); I bought six Lean Cuisine dinners (they were on sale--six for $10--a good deal); and, of course, I needed ice cream and a cheese grater (I can't find the one I had), and then I bought some Cheez-Its.
Do you see a connection between any of this? I don't, and I can't figure out how my brain works. It never takes me to the beer or wine aisles; I totally avoided the vegetable section and the canned goods' section. I had a list. So how did all the rest of this stuff end up in my basket? It's a mystery to me. But at least I have a good balance between the "diet food" and the junk food; I also have tomatoes and squash from the garden and a stockpile of frozen veggies to go with anything I choose to cook.
Besides reading student papers (a given), I have a few other projects to work on (Norton Oral History Project, Fall courses, mowing the grass at some point, weeding the garden), and I'll be working at the bookstore on Monday (8am to 5pm--a whole day--yikes!). I won't be idle on my "vacation," that's for sure!
I hope all of my students have a relaxing break! I've tried not to load them down with too much work!
Update on the Budster: We (the vet and I) think Buddy may have gotten into rat poison--what's called a "rodenticide anticoagulant." It's a poison that thins out the rat's blood and eventually kills it. If Buddy ate a rat that had eaten poison, or eaten some of the poison, that could have caused the "spontaneous" bleeding. The vitamin K pills seem to be working. Bud's doing fine, except when I have to give him his medicine. I have to wrap him in a towel to give him the meds so he doesn't scratch the hell out of me. He goes back to the vet in the morning to have his stitches removed. Hooray!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Buddy's Home!
And seasons 1 & 2 of The Closer came today, so I'm typing this, watching The Closer, and holding Buddy. He's needy today. I have to read/grade student essays, and will get on that in a minute.
Dr. Jeff told me that Buddy had been doing fine, but, when Dr. J. went to check on him Sunday, Buddy had blood in his feces and had hacked up blood, too. So, Dr. J. started giving Buddy vitamin K shots to help his blood clot. I have antibiotics and some vitamin K to give the cat, and we'll go back to the vet's on Friday to have the stitches out. As soon as Buddy heals from this, he and Bubba are going in for sex-adjustment surgery (They need to be neutered; snip-snip). Then we start the shots for everybody.
I'm glad I've found a local vet; I'm really glad Buddy's home, and I think the other cats are glad, too. Last night, I was sitting on the couch, surrounded by cats. I think they were afraid I was going to take them away, too, so they tried to cozy up to me.
Dr. Jeff told me that Buddy had been doing fine, but, when Dr. J. went to check on him Sunday, Buddy had blood in his feces and had hacked up blood, too. So, Dr. J. started giving Buddy vitamin K shots to help his blood clot. I have antibiotics and some vitamin K to give the cat, and we'll go back to the vet's on Friday to have the stitches out. As soon as Buddy heals from this, he and Bubba are going in for sex-adjustment surgery (They need to be neutered; snip-snip). Then we start the shots for everybody.
I'm glad I've found a local vet; I'm really glad Buddy's home, and I think the other cats are glad, too. Last night, I was sitting on the couch, surrounded by cats. I think they were afraid I was going to take them away, too, so they tried to cozy up to me.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Muffin Day
I love to bake. I especially love to bake when I'm angry or upset because I can work out some of my frustrations mixing and chopping. Today, I made about four dozen muffins (most of which I will give away--if I ate all of them I'd gain way too much weight)--strawberry-banana, blueberry-orange, and the best of all, zuchinni-chocolate. As the cook, I had to sample one of each, of course! The zuchinni were the best of the bunch, though each flavor has its merits.
Why was I angry/frustrated? I've just spent an extraordinary amount of money to find out that my little cat didn't have a blockage in his stomach, as the emergency vet insisted. In fact, Dr. Jeff said that Buddy didn't have anything in his stomach. No bird's head, no feathers. Something irritated his stomach, but, whatever it was, it wasn't there when Buddy got to Dr. Anderson's. The matter in Buddy's intestines resembled a black peppermint stick, according to Dr. Jeff; basically, he gave Buddy an enema--the doc flushed out his stomach and his intestines. A very expensive high colonic, if you ask me! Anyway, Buddy's recuperating at the clinic over the weekend. Dr. Jeff wants to make sure that Buddy's over his vomiting episode.
So, here's the lesson I've learned. Cats are cats. They will eat stuff they shouldn't and, while bloody vomit is scary, caution is best. Next time, I'll just lock the cat in the bathroom for 24 hours and let his digestive system calm down. If he's still sick after that, he goes to Dr. Jeff. No more emergency vets. That's the same as using the emergency room for a cold. Dumb!
So, I think I'll bake some bread later. I need to punch something, and dough is, at least, safe.
Why was I angry/frustrated? I've just spent an extraordinary amount of money to find out that my little cat didn't have a blockage in his stomach, as the emergency vet insisted. In fact, Dr. Jeff said that Buddy didn't have anything in his stomach. No bird's head, no feathers. Something irritated his stomach, but, whatever it was, it wasn't there when Buddy got to Dr. Anderson's. The matter in Buddy's intestines resembled a black peppermint stick, according to Dr. Jeff; basically, he gave Buddy an enema--the doc flushed out his stomach and his intestines. A very expensive high colonic, if you ask me! Anyway, Buddy's recuperating at the clinic over the weekend. Dr. Jeff wants to make sure that Buddy's over his vomiting episode.
So, here's the lesson I've learned. Cats are cats. They will eat stuff they shouldn't and, while bloody vomit is scary, caution is best. Next time, I'll just lock the cat in the bathroom for 24 hours and let his digestive system calm down. If he's still sick after that, he goes to Dr. Jeff. No more emergency vets. That's the same as using the emergency room for a cold. Dumb!
So, I think I'll bake some bread later. I need to punch something, and dough is, at least, safe.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Cat Tails/Tales?
Well, I should find out tomorrow, but I'm thinking the sparrow's head is in Buddy's stomach. He threw up blood Thursday afternoon, so I took him to the emergency vet in Shreveport (my second round trip of the day!), where I paid almost $500 to have the vet tell me that Buddy had a blockage. Duh! So, at 1am, I was driving the highway homeward. I went to bed around 2am Friday, got up around 7:30am, and took Buddy to the local vet. I taught my class, went to lunch with a former student, then drove back to the vet's office.
I like Dr. Anderson. He's a large and small animal vet, which means he deals with horses, sheep, cows, as well as dogs and cats. I love sitting in a vet's office--I've met some wonderful animals and their owners in the last two days. At Dr. Jeff's (that's Dr. A's first name--that's what everyone calls him), I met a Rat Terrier named "Shorty" who was in for a toenail clipping (which Dr. Jeff did himself), a cat named "Lucy," (an orange-striped tabby), a lab named Jojo, who loves to have her head scratched, and a Jack Russell puppy named "Gigi," and her human, who's name is "Daisy." Last night/early this morning, I met a Cocker Spaniel named "Petunia," a Rat Terrier named "Abby," a miniature Shnauzer named "Abbie," a lab named "Hunter," and a lab named "May." No other cats, though.
Dr. Jeff took the time to talk to me about Buddy--is he prone to eating hair scrunchies, rubber bands; does he throw up often? Answer to both questions: No. Buddy likes to play with scrunchies, rubber bands, and yarn (yeah, he's such a typical cat), but he knows the difference between toys and food. He and Bubba will tear the hell out of a catnip mouse, but they won't eat it. I told Dr. Jeff about the sparrow and the missing head. He said he checked the x-rays from the emergency clinic and said he planned to do an exploratory surgery on Buddy and keep him overnight. I expected the doc to call, but he might have had a large-animal emergency. (And I found out that, at night, he only deals with large animals. So he doesn't come in for small animal emergencies.)
I trust him--even though he seems to be rather youngish (but how do I know?). Dr. Jeff is personable, asks interesting questions, and seems to know the animals he cares for quite well. He wants to know and he treated my concerns seriously, even the money question. How much? About $150, unless he has to resect a bowel! Next time, I'll just wait for Dr. Jeff's office to open to take in a sick animal. But now I have a local vet to vaccinate my cats and treat them when they swallow birds' heads whole!
But the question that's plaguing me now is "How much is an animal worth?" If I had to choose between paying $1,000 to save my cat or $1,000 to save my child, of course, the answer is obvious. But my children are grown; my cats are my companions. They share my life and complete my home; I couldn't imagine living without them. I think that, because I lost Judas to the dogs, I'm particularly vulnerable right now. I've raised Buddy--he wasn't more than six week's old when my neighbor handed him to me. He's my puppy-cat and follows me around. I would hate to lose him, especially when I can do something to prevent it.
I can't wait to get him home. But I think I won't let him go outside for a while!
I like Dr. Anderson. He's a large and small animal vet, which means he deals with horses, sheep, cows, as well as dogs and cats. I love sitting in a vet's office--I've met some wonderful animals and their owners in the last two days. At Dr. Jeff's (that's Dr. A's first name--that's what everyone calls him), I met a Rat Terrier named "Shorty" who was in for a toenail clipping (which Dr. Jeff did himself), a cat named "Lucy," (an orange-striped tabby), a lab named Jojo, who loves to have her head scratched, and a Jack Russell puppy named "Gigi," and her human, who's name is "Daisy." Last night/early this morning, I met a Cocker Spaniel named "Petunia," a Rat Terrier named "Abby," a miniature Shnauzer named "Abbie," a lab named "Hunter," and a lab named "May." No other cats, though.
Dr. Jeff took the time to talk to me about Buddy--is he prone to eating hair scrunchies, rubber bands; does he throw up often? Answer to both questions: No. Buddy likes to play with scrunchies, rubber bands, and yarn (yeah, he's such a typical cat), but he knows the difference between toys and food. He and Bubba will tear the hell out of a catnip mouse, but they won't eat it. I told Dr. Jeff about the sparrow and the missing head. He said he checked the x-rays from the emergency clinic and said he planned to do an exploratory surgery on Buddy and keep him overnight. I expected the doc to call, but he might have had a large-animal emergency. (And I found out that, at night, he only deals with large animals. So he doesn't come in for small animal emergencies.)
I trust him--even though he seems to be rather youngish (but how do I know?). Dr. Jeff is personable, asks interesting questions, and seems to know the animals he cares for quite well. He wants to know and he treated my concerns seriously, even the money question. How much? About $150, unless he has to resect a bowel! Next time, I'll just wait for Dr. Jeff's office to open to take in a sick animal. But now I have a local vet to vaccinate my cats and treat them when they swallow birds' heads whole!
But the question that's plaguing me now is "How much is an animal worth?" If I had to choose between paying $1,000 to save my cat or $1,000 to save my child, of course, the answer is obvious. But my children are grown; my cats are my companions. They share my life and complete my home; I couldn't imagine living without them. I think that, because I lost Judas to the dogs, I'm particularly vulnerable right now. I've raised Buddy--he wasn't more than six week's old when my neighbor handed him to me. He's my puppy-cat and follows me around. I would hate to lose him, especially when I can do something to prevent it.
I can't wait to get him home. But I think I won't let him go outside for a while!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Another "Gift"
When I sat down to read my students' second drafts today, I noticed feathers. I looked closer and found the body of a sparrow, sans head, on my desk. The last time one of my cats left me such a gift, I received the head and tail feathers of a Cardinal. So I guess I should be happy I didn't find the body of a red bird on my desk. But, really, these "gifts" are annoying. I'm still finding feathers in the nooks and crannies; I'm really afraid I'm going to find the head, too. (reminds me of the famous scene in "The Godfather"--the horse's head in the bed! Yikes!)
I love my cats, but this is too much. And, to top this off, Buddy, one of my younger cats, keeps throwing up--food, water, grass. I'd blame it on hairballs, but he doesn't seem to shed much. I'm thinking he ate something he shouldn't have. I'd blame his gastrointestinal problems on the food, but none of the other cats are throwing up, so he might have gotten into something he shouldn't. I need to find some homeopath remedy for this. First, though, I need to keep him away from food for a day or so. I think I'll lock him in the study (that's one way to keep the others from leaving me dead birds!).
I welcomed the thunderstorm tonight. I thought I'd have to go out and water the garden in the morning so it would get its one-inch for the week, but I think it will be fine for a couple of days. I picked quite a few tomatoes tonight and a squash. I'm still not sure when the peppers will be ready, but I may just have to pick one and try it out. I had a salad for dinner and threw in a couple of the cherry tomatoes. Yum!
I love my cats, but this is too much. And, to top this off, Buddy, one of my younger cats, keeps throwing up--food, water, grass. I'd blame it on hairballs, but he doesn't seem to shed much. I'm thinking he ate something he shouldn't have. I'd blame his gastrointestinal problems on the food, but none of the other cats are throwing up, so he might have gotten into something he shouldn't. I need to find some homeopath remedy for this. First, though, I need to keep him away from food for a day or so. I think I'll lock him in the study (that's one way to keep the others from leaving me dead birds!).
I welcomed the thunderstorm tonight. I thought I'd have to go out and water the garden in the morning so it would get its one-inch for the week, but I think it will be fine for a couple of days. I picked quite a few tomatoes tonight and a squash. I'm still not sure when the peppers will be ready, but I may just have to pick one and try it out. I had a salad for dinner and threw in a couple of the cherry tomatoes. Yum!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
A (Mostly) Mowed Yard!
Hooray! I (sort-of) mowed my grass today with my new riding mower! Of course, I flooded the engine once, and it backfired on me and scared me to death. I rode the clutch. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get the brake all the way down, but I did it! Hopefully, the next time will be better. At least I mowed down most of the really tall grass. But the cutting job is erratic--I got so wrapped up in getting the tall grass that I skipped some of the other parts. I have cut sections and not-cut sections, but I'll do better once I'm more comfortable. I'm hoping I haven't stripped any gears or blown any gaskets! I only took two hours to mow, though, instead of two hours a day, five days a week.
Mechanical gadgets, while fascinating, still scare me. Driving a lawnmower is very much like driving a car, but I didn't realize that speed is relative--when I was riding on the mower, I probably wasn't going faster than 3 to 5 miles an hour, but without doors and a roof to protect me, I felt totally vulnerable. But I also felt empowered--I can do it myself, so that feeds my sense of independence. Since I can't rely on my brothers or my father to "take care" of me, I need to be able to do these things myself. Scary--yes--but also quite liberating.
I did visit briefly with my dad today for Father's Day. His birthday is Wednesday, so I brought two cards. I chipped in with my siblings to buy him a custom golf club for Father's Day, and I got him an American Express gift card that he can spend anyway he wants. I also had a chance to see my brother Mike, his wife Linda, and his daughter Katie. That was nice. I don't get to see them too often since they live in Monroe, LA.
When my children were still living at home, they used to give me a card for Father's Day! I kind of miss that.
I hope all you fathers had a good day! Mine was excellent.
Mechanical gadgets, while fascinating, still scare me. Driving a lawnmower is very much like driving a car, but I didn't realize that speed is relative--when I was riding on the mower, I probably wasn't going faster than 3 to 5 miles an hour, but without doors and a roof to protect me, I felt totally vulnerable. But I also felt empowered--I can do it myself, so that feeds my sense of independence. Since I can't rely on my brothers or my father to "take care" of me, I need to be able to do these things myself. Scary--yes--but also quite liberating.
I did visit briefly with my dad today for Father's Day. His birthday is Wednesday, so I brought two cards. I chipped in with my siblings to buy him a custom golf club for Father's Day, and I got him an American Express gift card that he can spend anyway he wants. I also had a chance to see my brother Mike, his wife Linda, and his daughter Katie. That was nice. I don't get to see them too often since they live in Monroe, LA.
When my children were still living at home, they used to give me a card for Father's Day! I kind of miss that.
I hope all you fathers had a good day! Mine was excellent.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Cat Sagas, Part Deux
My elation at discovering that Boudreaux was okay was short-lived. I woke up this morning to the sound of dogs barking again, and, by the time I made it out the back door, I discovered the largest of the hounds standing over the body of my cat, Judas. She, unfortunately, was dead.
So, at 7:30 am, I was once again digging a hole. The ground was fairly soft, but I need to put some more dirt on top of the grave to keep the varmints from digging her up. To say that I am sad is an understatement. This cat has been with me for about ten years. My daughter brought Judas to me from Austin. Dorothy had moved into a new apartment and couldn't keep her.
Judas was a one-person cat. She hated every other cat in the house and rarely let any of them get within three feet of her. When the weather turned warm, she would go outside and not come back inside until the temperature cooled significantly. I think that's what caused the problem--I couldn't get her to come inside to eat. I had to put food out for her, which, I think, encouraged the dogs to visit the property.
Judas was part of a litter of kittens that a wandering stray cat had when my daughter was living in an apartment with four guys. They named the mother cat "Mary" and named the kittens after the Disciples--Judas got her name because she was the only black cat in the bunch. Dorothy and the guys didn't care about the cat's sex; they named them randomly. So that's how I ended up with a cat named "Judas." Not a name I would have chosen.
When I got home from teaching today, I called the police department. I let them know about the dogs, that one of them, at least, had killed my cat. We do have leash laws here, I found out, but we don't really have any way to enforce them. We don't have a dog catcher or pound, so abandoned or wandering animals can't be taken anywhere, even if the police do catch them. I asked the officer what the solution was, and he told me that the officer can "dispose" of the animal if he/she considers the animal vicious. If the animal attacks the officer, the officer can shoot it. I think that's what he meant by "dispose." I'm not in favor of killing animals--any animals--unless they pose an immediate danger. These dogs are vicious to cats. Does that count? Anyway, the morning shift is supposed to keep an eye on my property. I am going to try to keep the cats in tonight. They've been in most of the day, anyway, because of the rain. I think I'll go count, now. If they are all here, I'm locking the door.
************
Oh, and, as an aside, I'm now the proud owner of a bouncing baby riding lawnmower! Alas, I can't use it because the ground is saturated. I probably won't be able to cut the grass until Tuesday. I hope I can figure out how it works by then!
So, at 7:30 am, I was once again digging a hole. The ground was fairly soft, but I need to put some more dirt on top of the grave to keep the varmints from digging her up. To say that I am sad is an understatement. This cat has been with me for about ten years. My daughter brought Judas to me from Austin. Dorothy had moved into a new apartment and couldn't keep her.
Judas was a one-person cat. She hated every other cat in the house and rarely let any of them get within three feet of her. When the weather turned warm, she would go outside and not come back inside until the temperature cooled significantly. I think that's what caused the problem--I couldn't get her to come inside to eat. I had to put food out for her, which, I think, encouraged the dogs to visit the property.
Judas was part of a litter of kittens that a wandering stray cat had when my daughter was living in an apartment with four guys. They named the mother cat "Mary" and named the kittens after the Disciples--Judas got her name because she was the only black cat in the bunch. Dorothy and the guys didn't care about the cat's sex; they named them randomly. So that's how I ended up with a cat named "Judas." Not a name I would have chosen.
When I got home from teaching today, I called the police department. I let them know about the dogs, that one of them, at least, had killed my cat. We do have leash laws here, I found out, but we don't really have any way to enforce them. We don't have a dog catcher or pound, so abandoned or wandering animals can't be taken anywhere, even if the police do catch them. I asked the officer what the solution was, and he told me that the officer can "dispose" of the animal if he/she considers the animal vicious. If the animal attacks the officer, the officer can shoot it. I think that's what he meant by "dispose." I'm not in favor of killing animals--any animals--unless they pose an immediate danger. These dogs are vicious to cats. Does that count? Anyway, the morning shift is supposed to keep an eye on my property. I am going to try to keep the cats in tonight. They've been in most of the day, anyway, because of the rain. I think I'll go count, now. If they are all here, I'm locking the door.
************
Oh, and, as an aside, I'm now the proud owner of a bouncing baby riding lawnmower! Alas, I can't use it because the ground is saturated. I probably won't be able to cut the grass until Tuesday. I hope I can figure out how it works by then!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Cat Update...
I worry too much and I forget that cats are crafty. I started filling food bowls this morning and Boudreaux was first in line for chow! I gave him a quick twice over and he seemed to be fine. He ate and perched himself in his favorite spot on the sofa for a good cleaning and a nap. No doubt I will find him in the same place when I get home later.
When I went outside to look for him last night, I noticed the bugs around the security lights in my neighbor's yard. I searched for bats--they are drawn to the bugs. I'm pretty sure we have bats in the country, but I don't know that I've actually seen any. But, while I was looking for the bats, an owl swooped through the yard and perched in one of the neighbor's trees. Good! Another helper to rid the area of rats. (I really, really, really HATE rats!)
Anyway, Boo is fine--and that means I'm fine, too.
When I went outside to look for him last night, I noticed the bugs around the security lights in my neighbor's yard. I searched for bats--they are drawn to the bugs. I'm pretty sure we have bats in the country, but I don't know that I've actually seen any. But, while I was looking for the bats, an owl swooped through the yard and perched in one of the neighbor's trees. Good! Another helper to rid the area of rats. (I really, really, really HATE rats!)
Anyway, Boo is fine--and that means I'm fine, too.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The Cat Sagas
I mentioned this morning in class that I saw three big dogs this morning that had something cornered under my neighbor's car. I thought it might be one of my cats, Boudreaux (Boo). I haven't seen him all day, and I didn't see anything under the car when I got home. If he's hurt, he may be under the house, or (and I really hope not), those dogs may have come back for him. I threw a stick at them and chased them away, but my neighbor is not the friendliest person. If my cat died under her car, she probably threw him in the trash or on the burn pile in her back yard. I know that sounds terrible (it does to me); I would prefer that she yell at me to come get my cat. I'm holding out hope that Boo is just hiding and will come out when he feels safe. I have been looking for him and calling him, but he hasn't shown up yet.
The newest member of the group, Golem, caught a rat in the backyard this afternoon. Well, think about it--bird feeders, tall grass, and chickens/chicken eggs across the ditch--a rat's paradise! And, of course, the rat snakes indicate that rats live around here. Golem dispatched the rat in short order, leaving only the head (in the grass; I closed the back door to keep him from bringing it in to the house). The other cats displayed typical cat curiousity and tried to get a look at his snack, but he wasn't sharing. I need to thank the professor who gave Golem to me; he's a good ratter.
I'm going to call for Boudreaux again. I'm hoping he's just chilling somewhere--he does that every once in a while, even though he's neutered; my cats stay close to home, but they'll go on short forays, mostly to chase chickens. I'm hoping that's what Boo is doing.
The newest member of the group, Golem, caught a rat in the backyard this afternoon. Well, think about it--bird feeders, tall grass, and chickens/chicken eggs across the ditch--a rat's paradise! And, of course, the rat snakes indicate that rats live around here. Golem dispatched the rat in short order, leaving only the head (in the grass; I closed the back door to keep him from bringing it in to the house). The other cats displayed typical cat curiousity and tried to get a look at his snack, but he wasn't sharing. I need to thank the professor who gave Golem to me; he's a good ratter.
I'm going to call for Boudreaux again. I'm hoping he's just chilling somewhere--he does that every once in a while, even though he's neutered; my cats stay close to home, but they'll go on short forays, mostly to chase chickens. I'm hoping that's what Boo is doing.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
In High Grass...
Okay, that's it. I'm not spending one more minute trying to mow an acre with an electric lawn mower. I went out yesterday around 11am; the temp was already near 90 degrees, and I managed to mow a square of lawn before the sweat blinded me. Tomorrow, I'm going to Lowe's to buy a riding lawnmower. The temps won't get any cooler, really, and this is only June. Besides, I don't really have 10 hours a week to mow the grass. I can only go for an hour or two a day before I collapse in a puddle on the living room floor--I'm useless for the rest of the day. At this rate, I have to mow some of the grass every day. And, of course, after a week, I have to start over, so it's a never-ending chore. At least a riding mower will help me dispatch this job more quickly. The picture shows part of the backyard; walk to the right, and you'll find more. I took this picture to show the fence my neighbor was putting up.
I have a long list of "needs"--a tiller (I want to plant a ton of flower beds and enlarge the garden, and I can rent it out to my friends!), a wheelbarrow, a ladder. I just keep adding to the list of necessities. When I bought my house, I had forgotten about all this. When you rent, you don't worry about cleaning out the gutters or sweeping the pine straw off the roof; you might have to mow the yard, but the yard's usually not that big; and, generally, the landlord's not overly enthusiastic if you dig up half the yard for a garden.
I'm also wondering if I should buy a chain saw (it would need to be extremely light-weight so that I could handle it) since I'm constantly dealing with large limbs that fall when the wind kicks up. I mostly drag those to the burn pile, but some of the limbs are too much for me to drag, even.
Women with power tools! I love it! I can remember how excited I was when I bought my drill/electric screwdriver. I couldn't wait to try it out; I went all through my house hanging curtains! I love to master tools. One day, I may actually buy a table saw and start building my own bookcases.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
A Yard Full of Cardinals and One Big Turtle!
The rain brought all of the birds out, but I counted at least six Cardinals--mostly female, though I did see (I think) two males. These guys seem to have a harem between them!
And this was just a fluke, but, while I was looking out the back door, I saw this HUGE turtle lumbering across the yard towards the ditch. I at least had the presence of mind to take some pictures. Here's one. He sat still while I crouched down in the rain to snap his pic! And anyone who says that turtle's are slow didn't see this one booking it across the yard! He/she was really moving. The picture doesn't do justice to it's size--it was at least 12 inches long. Amazing! And very weird that I just happened to look out the door at the precise moment it decided to make a run for it!
Nature offers all manner of sights if we just pay attention! Along with the dog, the snake and the birds, I have an abundance of distractions to occupy me.
I've picked five yellow squash from my garden, medium-sized, not really huge. But I ate some for dinner the other night and they were yummy! I'm just waiting for the tomatoes and peppers now.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
A Narrow Fellow in the Grass...
or, as I have to tell my students, a snake. I noticed that the stray gray and white cat who hangs around was tossing something in the air yesterday, so I decided to check it out. The snake was long, but only about an inch around. Flies buzzed it, so I figured it was almost dead. Wrong! I keep forgetting that some snakes "play possum"; they figure the predator will lose interest and leave them alone. I used a stick to pick it up and throw it on the burn pile. I figured it would die, for real, or it would go away. It wasn't there this morning, so I'm guessing it slithered off. I'm glad I wear my grandmother's boots when I'm walking through the tall grass.
The snake was blackish-brown with a white underbelly. It had a narrow head--not triangular, as with most poisonous snakes. I figure it was a rat/corn/chicken snake. Not too many markings on its back; since the neighbors have chickens, I'm guessing it came from across the ditch. But, who knows? Snakes ignore boundaries; it could have come from the woods behind my other neighbor's house.
Cats like to play with snakes, but I'm worried that they will get bitten. Even a rat snake will make them sick, so I keep a lookout for snakes and work to keep the cats away from them. This is only the third time I've seen a snake in my yard, but, in the country, they're always around somewhere.
The snake was blackish-brown with a white underbelly. It had a narrow head--not triangular, as with most poisonous snakes. I figure it was a rat/corn/chicken snake. Not too many markings on its back; since the neighbors have chickens, I'm guessing it came from across the ditch. But, who knows? Snakes ignore boundaries; it could have come from the woods behind my other neighbor's house.
Cats like to play with snakes, but I'm worried that they will get bitten. Even a rat snake will make them sick, so I keep a lookout for snakes and work to keep the cats away from them. This is only the third time I've seen a snake in my yard, but, in the country, they're always around somewhere.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
The Dog
I'm sorry to say the little dog I found didn't make it. I feel terrible about that. She (it was a female) must have been out for a while--the condition of her coat suggests that--and she was obviously seriously injured. She died sometime between midnight on Tuesday and 7:30am on Wednesday. I decided to call her "Matilda"--the name just suggested itself to me. I buried her--no mean feat for me at 7:30 in the morning, before coffee. And, while that solved my dilemma, I can't help feeling sorry that some family has lost a pet and doesn't know it. She didn't have tags, so I can't notify anyone about her death. That makes me incredibly sad.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Found Dog
I'm on the horns of a financial and ethical dilemma. I found this dog in my backyard today. It's hurt and extremely dirty and I have no idea what to do with it (I say "it" because I can't tell if it's male or female yet). It's in my bathroom at the moment, sleeping in the shower.
I went to the store earlier today and went into the house through the back door; the dog wasn't there then. I tried to go outside between rainstorms and the dog was blocking the storm door. I tried to get the dog, but it crawled under the house. I was afraid it would die under there, so I waited until it came back out, wrapped it in a towel, and brought it in the house. At least, if it dies, I'll be able to get to it.
I'm guessing it was hit by a car, but I don't know when or where, or how long it's been in my yard. By the looks of it, the dog has been out in the tall grass for a while--it's coat is full of burrs and grass seed. If it survives, and becomes less touchy, I may try to bathe it, but I'll need a tub for that. Otherwise, the dirt and hair will clog my shower drain.
I just don't know what to do. I really don't want a dog--they take too much time, which I don't have, and need a fenced yard, which I also don't have. Besides, I have cats and a bird and don't really want to try to integrate a dog into the menagerie. I can't afford to take this dog to the vet right now, but I also know that, if I take it to the Humane Society, they'll probably euthanize it. This is not my dog, but I'm thinking it belongs to somebody who might be looking for it. And I don't want to be responsible for having someone else's pet put to sleep.
I'll have to think about this. I'm working all day tomorrow, so I'll just leave the dog in the bathroom with it's food and water (I did, oddly enough, have dog food--Golem, I was told, liked dog food, so I bought some for him; he only eats cat food now, though) and call the Humane Society in Natchitoches on Thursday to discuss this with them. I did call the local police, and the operator told me they couldn't take the dog because they didn't have a facility for animals here. We do have a leash law, I discovered, but no provision for dealing with animals without identification.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Please Come to Boston...
Well, I went. And it was HOT, hotter than Louisiana. I walked to Chinatown from the Westin Copley (a looooong walk) and back, and the temp was 93. I, of course, brought layers, anticipating 70-degree days. That didn't happen, so I only needed jackets for the hotel. Altogether, though, I had a wonderful time. On my way back from Chinatown, I ducked into Trinity Church to listen to the Friday organ recital. It was lovely. We also ate Italian in Little Italy (the North End), and that was exquisite. Our sessions for the American Religion and Literature Society were well-attended (20 people at least for each session), and I met some wonderful people.
I also wrote a poem (the second in a month). I'll probably revise it still, but here it is:
Going for Italian in the North End
I left home in summer
expecting winter here
but found the thrum of heat and sweat
that proves that where you go
is where you left.
And the walking takes you
to narrow stacked streets,
shops full of cheeses and cannoli,
St. Jude posters with dollars
pinned at the edges.
Diners' voices explode off walls,
spill out the door.
In the Peace Garden,
a rat skims across the sidewalk
and we continue to the T
to rock our way to sleep.
Not totally finished, but something to work on. And I might have an outlet for the Hawthorne paper I wrote in 2001! I'd love to see that published, so I better get to work revising it.
Summer school begins on Friday and I don't feel ready. I have my Moodle site organized, but haven't opened it to students yet. I may do that tomorrow or Tuesday. Wednesday I'll work at the bookstore, but I need to stop in at the college and file the paperwork for my trip to get reimbursed. Too much to do, and I'm about to have even less time.
The garden is flourishing; I hope to be able to harvest some vegetables in the next week or so.
And what's with the gas prices? It's almost not cost-effective for me to drive to work these days. I'm of the opinion that the petroleum companies are out to make big profits, regardless of what it does to consumers. Yeah, I know what they say, but I don't see them investing those profits in refineries.
Off the soapbox! Need to get ready for summer school!
I also wrote a poem (the second in a month). I'll probably revise it still, but here it is:
Going for Italian in the North End
I left home in summer
expecting winter here
but found the thrum of heat and sweat
that proves that where you go
is where you left.
And the walking takes you
to narrow stacked streets,
shops full of cheeses and cannoli,
St. Jude posters with dollars
pinned at the edges.
Diners' voices explode off walls,
spill out the door.
In the Peace Garden,
a rat skims across the sidewalk
and we continue to the T
to rock our way to sleep.
Not totally finished, but something to work on. And I might have an outlet for the Hawthorne paper I wrote in 2001! I'd love to see that published, so I better get to work revising it.
Summer school begins on Friday and I don't feel ready. I have my Moodle site organized, but haven't opened it to students yet. I may do that tomorrow or Tuesday. Wednesday I'll work at the bookstore, but I need to stop in at the college and file the paperwork for my trip to get reimbursed. Too much to do, and I'm about to have even less time.
The garden is flourishing; I hope to be able to harvest some vegetables in the next week or so.
And what's with the gas prices? It's almost not cost-effective for me to drive to work these days. I'm of the opinion that the petroleum companies are out to make big profits, regardless of what it does to consumers. Yeah, I know what they say, but I don't see them investing those profits in refineries.
Off the soapbox! Need to get ready for summer school!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
The Garden
I've been checking the garden every day, and I'm happy to say that everything is growing. I took some pictures today--the tomatoes and squash are going great guns; the bell peppers are developing more slowly. I also took pictures of the peach tree. It still has five peaches on it, so I haven't lost any of those.
The pictures are probably a bit fuzzy, but the first is of one of the tomato plants. Nearly all of them (I have 12) have tomatoes on them.
Next is a picture of one of the sqash plants. They are also doing well.
And, of course, I have a picture of a peach on the peach tree. I hope it does better next year, but I bought it after it bloomed and the peaches were already on it.
I feel as though I'm turning into one of those old ladies with her cats and her plants. But, this keeps me busy and out of trouble.
I managed to mow most of the front yard yesterday. I left one dense patch of grass--but it's close to the ditch and doesn't obscure anyone's view of the road.
I need to mow the back yard, but I'm a bit fearful of doing that. Last Saturday, I went out to mow the back yard and a rock flew up and broke the back windshield out of my car! I had to wait five days for the window to come in and pay my deductible; but, of course, that meant I had to file a claim with my insurance company, which means my rates will probably go up. I think I'll park the car in the front yard before I begin to mow.
Well, onto other things. I've been working on my summer class, thinking about my fall classes, preparing for a conference in Boston Thursday, and knitting. I've finished the components for a tank top. I'm waiting for the pieces to dry before I sew it together and I'll post a picture of it when it's finished. I managed to knit a hat and fingerless gloves for Boston; the temp there is about 20 degrees cooler than here, so I need to keep warm. And, of course, I have numerous other projects to keep me busy knitting on the plane, if I can bring my knitting needles with me (I think they lifted that restriction, but I need to check).
All in all, I'm too busy for words. I actually goofed off one day this week, if you call it "goofing off" when I knit and cook. One day, maybe, I'll feel as though I really don't need to do anything but eat and sleep, but that day isn't here yet.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Wake-Up Call...
My friend, David Lewis, and another friend wrote a song with this title that was recorded by John Mayall. If you haven't heard it, you should go find it. It's great.
And, of course, it's a perfect title for my finals' week blog because, once again, I have these students who, all of a sudden, wake up and realize they probably won't pass the class they've been taking with me all semester, or that they probably won't make the grade they "need" to keep up their GPAs.
Well, I'm sorry, but it's too late for most of them. I understand illness, I understand procrastination, I understand "it slipped my mind," but now is not the time to ask for help or consideration. It's not as though I've added any "new" assignments to the schedule. I pretty much have it all mapped out at the beginning, so students shouldn't be surprised when they have work due.
Since last week, I have been grading papers, averaging grades, searching for grades I might have missed, looking for papers I might have overlooked (probably because they were turned in late), and I'm exhausted with excuses. I have one final to give and, after that, I'm turning in my grades. I need a break before my conference in Boston and before summer school begins on June 1. I just do not have the time or the inclination to cut anybody any slack at all.
I made it clear to my students that they were NOT to discuss their grades with me after dead week began. And what do I find in my email inbox? Questions about grades, of course. And, for my lit class, I went over the final exam questions--I read them out loud! And I have students bugging me to email them the questions because they missed the class. NO! If you didn't come to class or you didn't record them, don't ask. Enough already! Next thing they'll be asking me is to take the test for them. Please!
Every semester, I talk about personal resposibility, about being responsible for your own learning and your own success. At times, I feel that students want me to do everything for them; they want me to allow substandard work or give them a free pass if they can't do what I've asked them to do. I spend an enormous amount of time building my course sites--including information to help my students with their work. Half of them don't look at what I post and then get upset when I take points off their papers because they don't do what they are supposed to. How difficult is it to create a Works Cited page? Obviously, it's incredibly difficult because they haven't looked at the document I created and posted that shows them exactly how to do it!
And what's the deal about not asking for help during the semester? If you can't figure something out or have problems writing a thesis statement, why don't you ask the professor for help? It's part of our job. But please don't ask me to read your mind! I gave that up when I became mortal!
Yeah, my end-of-semester rant!
I love the students who hunger for knowledge for knowledge's sake--they're here for more than a grade. I just keep teaching for them.
Now I think I'll go check on the garden. Everything's growing in great leaps, and I can't wait for the first ripe tomato.
And, of course, it's a perfect title for my finals' week blog because, once again, I have these students who, all of a sudden, wake up and realize they probably won't pass the class they've been taking with me all semester, or that they probably won't make the grade they "need" to keep up their GPAs.
Well, I'm sorry, but it's too late for most of them. I understand illness, I understand procrastination, I understand "it slipped my mind," but now is not the time to ask for help or consideration. It's not as though I've added any "new" assignments to the schedule. I pretty much have it all mapped out at the beginning, so students shouldn't be surprised when they have work due.
Since last week, I have been grading papers, averaging grades, searching for grades I might have missed, looking for papers I might have overlooked (probably because they were turned in late), and I'm exhausted with excuses. I have one final to give and, after that, I'm turning in my grades. I need a break before my conference in Boston and before summer school begins on June 1. I just do not have the time or the inclination to cut anybody any slack at all.
I made it clear to my students that they were NOT to discuss their grades with me after dead week began. And what do I find in my email inbox? Questions about grades, of course. And, for my lit class, I went over the final exam questions--I read them out loud! And I have students bugging me to email them the questions because they missed the class. NO! If you didn't come to class or you didn't record them, don't ask. Enough already! Next thing they'll be asking me is to take the test for them. Please!
Every semester, I talk about personal resposibility, about being responsible for your own learning and your own success. At times, I feel that students want me to do everything for them; they want me to allow substandard work or give them a free pass if they can't do what I've asked them to do. I spend an enormous amount of time building my course sites--including information to help my students with their work. Half of them don't look at what I post and then get upset when I take points off their papers because they don't do what they are supposed to. How difficult is it to create a Works Cited page? Obviously, it's incredibly difficult because they haven't looked at the document I created and posted that shows them exactly how to do it!
And what's the deal about not asking for help during the semester? If you can't figure something out or have problems writing a thesis statement, why don't you ask the professor for help? It's part of our job. But please don't ask me to read your mind! I gave that up when I became mortal!
Yeah, my end-of-semester rant!
I love the students who hunger for knowledge for knowledge's sake--they're here for more than a grade. I just keep teaching for them.
Now I think I'll go check on the garden. Everything's growing in great leaps, and I can't wait for the first ripe tomato.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Jelly Making
I was out in the yard yesterday, burning limbs again (I'm going to have to do it one more time), when I remembered that the Mayhaws should be ready to pick. I filled a bucket about half full, cleaned them, and stuck them in a bag in the fridge until I could make jelly. I did that this morning.
The last time I made jelly was when I lived in Texarkana--I made Pyracanthia jelly. We had a huge Pyracanthia bush that hung over our garage. I climbed a ladder and picked a bucket full, then made jars and jars of jelly.
I went to the store this morning to buy jars and pectin (you need that to make the jelly set), then boiled the Mayhaws down, strained them, added the sugar and pectin and boiled everything. I had to boil the jars and the lids--I bought a case of 12 small jelly jars, but had enough jelly left over to fill up a mason jar! It's beautiful--a pinkish color. The Mayhaws smelled sweet, but, of course, the sugar is what makes the jelly sweet! I'm just wondering how long it takes jelly to set. This still looks too liquid. Oh, well, if it doesn't set by Tuesday, I can try it again. {Note: The jelly appears to be setting! 04/30/07}
Next year, maybe I'll actually get some plums off the mature trees and maybe the new trees will bear fruit, also. And, of course, maybe the peach tree will bear more. So far, the five or six peaches that remained on the tree when I planted it are still there. Hmm, maybe I'm ready for the chickens!
And, help me and all the other farmers out here--turn off your cell phones once in a while so the bees can find their homes! Thanks!
I've read all the final blogs, graded the reading summaries, and made a list of everything I need to do in the next week. Just looking at it makes me tired; really, I do know how my students feel; whether they really believe me is another thing!
The last time I made jelly was when I lived in Texarkana--I made Pyracanthia jelly. We had a huge Pyracanthia bush that hung over our garage. I climbed a ladder and picked a bucket full, then made jars and jars of jelly.
I went to the store this morning to buy jars and pectin (you need that to make the jelly set), then boiled the Mayhaws down, strained them, added the sugar and pectin and boiled everything. I had to boil the jars and the lids--I bought a case of 12 small jelly jars, but had enough jelly left over to fill up a mason jar! It's beautiful--a pinkish color. The Mayhaws smelled sweet, but, of course, the sugar is what makes the jelly sweet! I'm just wondering how long it takes jelly to set. This still looks too liquid. Oh, well, if it doesn't set by Tuesday, I can try it again. {Note: The jelly appears to be setting! 04/30/07}
Next year, maybe I'll actually get some plums off the mature trees and maybe the new trees will bear fruit, also. And, of course, maybe the peach tree will bear more. So far, the five or six peaches that remained on the tree when I planted it are still there. Hmm, maybe I'm ready for the chickens!
And, help me and all the other farmers out here--turn off your cell phones once in a while so the bees can find their homes! Thanks!
I've read all the final blogs, graded the reading summaries, and made a list of everything I need to do in the next week. Just looking at it makes me tired; really, I do know how my students feel; whether they really believe me is another thing!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Two Quick Observations...
The yellow tea rose that I planted at Easter is blooming, and, today, I saw my first hummingbird for the year!
Spring is really here, at last!
Spring is really here, at last!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
A Good Day for Yard Work...
So I spent most of the day out in the yard, burning limbs that had fallen after the last big storms, trying to mow more of my yard ( a never-ending chore!), and planting a peach tree. I've included a picture of the peach tree (it actually has peaches on it, but I don't think they'll survive the transplanting!) before transplanting.
The garden is doing fine. I try to water it every morning, when I can. I've been monitoring it every day. Let's see if I can get a picture of that in here, too. The tomatoes and peppers are doing well; the squash may make it, but the watermelon is a goner. Not enough cold weather to set the plants, I guess.
I've read a set of papers, but I think I'm going to put off reading blogs until tomorrow. I'm pooped! And I'll have two sets of papers to read tomorrow, too. Sigh! But the semester is almost over and I'll be sad when these students move on, so I better enjoy them while I can.
Oh, and I almost forgot--I went to the star party at Worley Observatory last night. It was great. I saw the moon (several views), Saturn, and the Horsehead Nebula in the Orion constellation, as well as Venus. Totally cool! The next star party is on May 19; I think more people should attend, though the Astronomy Club had quite a turn out.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Rate My Professor
I love reading the postings that students leave on ratemyprofessor.com. They are so strange and funny. I was just looking at my ratings, which I do every once in a while, and noticed that a number of them are "under review," and I have no idea what that means. The latest entry "under review" was from one of my 215 students who said something about me being "obnoxious and rude" and something to the effect that it was a shame the way I talked to my students. I copied the comment--here it is:
"This woman is so obnoxious and rude. The class may be easy but I had several times where I thought she should be kicked for the way she talked to us. She knows English and has her moments where she is likable, but they are few and far between."
Me? I'm still trying to figure out what that comment means. I think students ought to have to sign their names!
Must be terrible, being a student, feeling as though you have no power. It's so much easier to bash your teachers anonymously than it is to actually talk to them, but few students are brave enough to do that. I'm sorry the student feels that way, but, since he/she hasn't bothered to talk to me, I can't really do anything about it. And, actually, I still don't have any idea what the student is talking about.
Anyway, that's the only comment like that, out of 20 comments. Most of them are really nice and, I think, give potential students a good idea about what they can expect from me and my classes. I appreciate that. I think I'm fair and I try to be helpful, though sometimes I think I am too helpful! A borderline enabler! I'm working hard not to be (an enabler, that is).
I wish, though, we had a "rate your students.com," but I think that would be too obvious. If I rated my students, they would know who did the rating! And I suppose that's what grades are for, though I really do believe students in my classes get the grades they earn.
Rate My Professor is a strange and interesting site. I suppose it gives students a way to vent safely, but I try not to pay much attention to it. If I worry too much about how my students "feel" about me, I'm likely not going to do what I need to do to help them understand whatever I'm teaching. I don't think professors should dismiss their students' feelings, but I don't think that teaching is a popularity contest. It's what I do, and I try to do the best I can.
For the most part, I have wonderful students. They work hard, and most of them want to get the most out of our classes. I appreciate their effort and I try to reward hard work. But, if a student wants an A without putting forth any effort, that student will be unhappy with me and my class. I don't think that's my problem (or "my monkey," as I say). I will do everything in my power to help a student who wants help, but I'm not "giving" grades that aren't deserved.
I both love and hate the end of a semester--I say this at the end of every semester, but I always mean it. I'll miss most of my students--the ones who put forth some effort, anyway!
"This woman is so obnoxious and rude. The class may be easy but I had several times where I thought she should be kicked for the way she talked to us. She knows English and has her moments where she is likable, but they are few and far between."
Me? I'm still trying to figure out what that comment means. I think students ought to have to sign their names!
Must be terrible, being a student, feeling as though you have no power. It's so much easier to bash your teachers anonymously than it is to actually talk to them, but few students are brave enough to do that. I'm sorry the student feels that way, but, since he/she hasn't bothered to talk to me, I can't really do anything about it. And, actually, I still don't have any idea what the student is talking about.
Anyway, that's the only comment like that, out of 20 comments. Most of them are really nice and, I think, give potential students a good idea about what they can expect from me and my classes. I appreciate that. I think I'm fair and I try to be helpful, though sometimes I think I am too helpful! A borderline enabler! I'm working hard not to be (an enabler, that is).
I wish, though, we had a "rate your students.com," but I think that would be too obvious. If I rated my students, they would know who did the rating! And I suppose that's what grades are for, though I really do believe students in my classes get the grades they earn.
Rate My Professor is a strange and interesting site. I suppose it gives students a way to vent safely, but I try not to pay much attention to it. If I worry too much about how my students "feel" about me, I'm likely not going to do what I need to do to help them understand whatever I'm teaching. I don't think professors should dismiss their students' feelings, but I don't think that teaching is a popularity contest. It's what I do, and I try to do the best I can.
For the most part, I have wonderful students. They work hard, and most of them want to get the most out of our classes. I appreciate their effort and I try to reward hard work. But, if a student wants an A without putting forth any effort, that student will be unhappy with me and my class. I don't think that's my problem (or "my monkey," as I say). I will do everything in my power to help a student who wants help, but I'm not "giving" grades that aren't deserved.
I both love and hate the end of a semester--I say this at the end of every semester, but I always mean it. I'll miss most of my students--the ones who put forth some effort, anyway!
Monday, April 16, 2007
The Pulitzer Prize in Fiction
The 2007 Pulitzer was awarded to The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, one of the best books I've ever read! It's Oprah's current pick, but don't let that deter you from reading it. It's post-apocalyptic fiction, stark--the language is spare for McCarthy. He writes the way Faulkner writes, usually, but, as the novel goes on, language begins to fall away and the conversations become more and more spare.
It's just a beautiful, awful, tragic, hopeful novel.
Read it!
It's just a beautiful, awful, tragic, hopeful novel.
Read it!
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Thinkin' About the Weather...
I should have followed my instincts and not planted my garden before Easter Sunday. It's just an old farmer's tale, but I ignored it this year. A student's boyfriend came over and tilled up some ground (I paid him for it, so there's no impropriety here!), and, in the process, the tiller belt broke. That should have been a hint, or, as I point out in my lit classes, "foreshadowing." I ignored it.
So, I planted my garden on Friday and then spent the entire weekend covering and uncovering the plants to protect them from the COLD temperatures. But, hey, what do I expect? This is Louisiana, and it's APRIL, for crying out loud--no way should we expect freezing temps. Tornadoes, yes. A freeze, no.
And, since we have had temps in the eighties during the daytime (until this weekend), I had turned off my heater. When I turned it back on for this latest cold snap, it wouldn't come on. Which means I had to call the heating guy to come look at it.
All together, a weird weekend.
But it gets better. Several members of my family, including my parents, spent the weekend in a cabin at Grand Bayou, which is about ten minutes away from my house. I've seen more of my family this weekend than I have since Christmas! They actually stopped at my house on the way to the cabin and on the way home. They never come out here because it's "too far" (which is silly because I drive 90 miles round trip nearly every day and no one thinks it's "too far" for me!).
Right now, I'm sore from trying to mow an acre yard with an electric mower. The guys who normally do this for me told me they would do this two weeks ago, and I haven't seen them since. I pay them well, but I guess they don't need the money that badly. But I hate when people promise they'll do something and then don't. That makes them liars, and I don't like liars.
I've been mowing the yard in increments; I managed to get a majority of the front and about a third of the back done, and I did it over three days. My next purchase? A riding lawnmower! Then I won't have to listen to people promise that they'll get it done. I can just take a ride around my yard and mow the grass at the same time.
But I did plant a yellow rosebush, my favorite color roses! Let's hope it survives the weather!
So, I planted my garden on Friday and then spent the entire weekend covering and uncovering the plants to protect them from the COLD temperatures. But, hey, what do I expect? This is Louisiana, and it's APRIL, for crying out loud--no way should we expect freezing temps. Tornadoes, yes. A freeze, no.
And, since we have had temps in the eighties during the daytime (until this weekend), I had turned off my heater. When I turned it back on for this latest cold snap, it wouldn't come on. Which means I had to call the heating guy to come look at it.
All together, a weird weekend.
But it gets better. Several members of my family, including my parents, spent the weekend in a cabin at Grand Bayou, which is about ten minutes away from my house. I've seen more of my family this weekend than I have since Christmas! They actually stopped at my house on the way to the cabin and on the way home. They never come out here because it's "too far" (which is silly because I drive 90 miles round trip nearly every day and no one thinks it's "too far" for me!).
Right now, I'm sore from trying to mow an acre yard with an electric mower. The guys who normally do this for me told me they would do this two weeks ago, and I haven't seen them since. I pay them well, but I guess they don't need the money that badly. But I hate when people promise they'll do something and then don't. That makes them liars, and I don't like liars.
I've been mowing the yard in increments; I managed to get a majority of the front and about a third of the back done, and I did it over three days. My next purchase? A riding lawnmower! Then I won't have to listen to people promise that they'll get it done. I can just take a ride around my yard and mow the grass at the same time.
But I did plant a yellow rosebush, my favorite color roses! Let's hope it survives the weather!
Sunday, March 25, 2007
What I did on my Spring Break
Teachers always get those "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" essays, so, I guess, this is my retaliation. Actually, I write one of these almost every year; I'm just upholding a tradition!
Let's see--I began the break by grading papers (so what else is new?). But, on Saturday, my plum trees arrived, so I planted them. One is a Victoriana, which is an English plum, self-fertilizing. This one is a dwarf, which means it will only grow to be about 5 or 6 feet tall. The other plum tree is a Stanley that I hope will help fertilize the other two plums I have on my property. The Stanley is also a dwarf. After a week, they've already started to leaf, so I guess I planted them okay.
For most of my break, I spent half the day grading papers and the other half knitting, cleaning or cooking. I finished two pairs of socks, a baby sweater, a pair of baby booties, and a shrug. But then I started two other pairs of socks. I still have a couple of sweaters, but those always take longer to finish.
I did get the car inspected! Hooray for me; and I worked at the bookstore one day. I edited three transcripts for my friends at the art gallery.
The weirdest thing happened on Wednesday, around 1am. I was sitting on the couch, knitting, when I heard something chomping down the cat food as though it was starved. I figured it was one of the stray cats that sneaks into the house every once in a while, but my cats weren't fussing as they usually do. I leave the door to the washroom open during the day and into the evening (until I go to bed) so I don't have to get up a hundred times to let cats in and out. The screen in the storm door to the outside was busted out when I bought the house, and I haven't fixed it. The cats can go in and out through that.
I got up and quietly walked through the kitchen and around the bar; just as I rounded the end of the bar, I saw the back end of a possum exit out the kitchen door.
I had seen the possum's back end once before. One evening, as I pulled into my carport, I saw its back end going over the ramp that runs up to the laundry room.
The possum doesn't seem to be afraid of the cats and the cats don't know what to make of the possum. They don't run away from each other; the cats just don't know what kind of critter this is.
So, my dilemma was to find a way to block the possum from getting into the house while allowing the cats to go in and out. I found some tall boards to block the bottom half of the doorway. The cats can jump over them, but the possum can't climb over--or, at least, it hasn't yet.
I've tried to get a picture of it, but, believe it or not, possums move pretty quickly when they want to get away. One day, maybe I'll manage, and I will post the picture here on the blog.
I spent the entire break working in one capacity or another, but I still managed to relax a bit. I'm not sure I'm ready for classes to begin again, but, this too shall end very soon. I'd like to say I'll have a relaxing summer, but, if my summer class makes, I'll be driving 90 miles a day to teach one class. Sigh! I guess the wicked really don't get a rest.
Let's see--I began the break by grading papers (so what else is new?). But, on Saturday, my plum trees arrived, so I planted them. One is a Victoriana, which is an English plum, self-fertilizing. This one is a dwarf, which means it will only grow to be about 5 or 6 feet tall. The other plum tree is a Stanley that I hope will help fertilize the other two plums I have on my property. The Stanley is also a dwarf. After a week, they've already started to leaf, so I guess I planted them okay.
For most of my break, I spent half the day grading papers and the other half knitting, cleaning or cooking. I finished two pairs of socks, a baby sweater, a pair of baby booties, and a shrug. But then I started two other pairs of socks. I still have a couple of sweaters, but those always take longer to finish.
I did get the car inspected! Hooray for me; and I worked at the bookstore one day. I edited three transcripts for my friends at the art gallery.
The weirdest thing happened on Wednesday, around 1am. I was sitting on the couch, knitting, when I heard something chomping down the cat food as though it was starved. I figured it was one of the stray cats that sneaks into the house every once in a while, but my cats weren't fussing as they usually do. I leave the door to the washroom open during the day and into the evening (until I go to bed) so I don't have to get up a hundred times to let cats in and out. The screen in the storm door to the outside was busted out when I bought the house, and I haven't fixed it. The cats can go in and out through that.
I got up and quietly walked through the kitchen and around the bar; just as I rounded the end of the bar, I saw the back end of a possum exit out the kitchen door.
I had seen the possum's back end once before. One evening, as I pulled into my carport, I saw its back end going over the ramp that runs up to the laundry room.
The possum doesn't seem to be afraid of the cats and the cats don't know what to make of the possum. They don't run away from each other; the cats just don't know what kind of critter this is.
So, my dilemma was to find a way to block the possum from getting into the house while allowing the cats to go in and out. I found some tall boards to block the bottom half of the doorway. The cats can jump over them, but the possum can't climb over--or, at least, it hasn't yet.
I've tried to get a picture of it, but, believe it or not, possums move pretty quickly when they want to get away. One day, maybe I'll manage, and I will post the picture here on the blog.
I spent the entire break working in one capacity or another, but I still managed to relax a bit. I'm not sure I'm ready for classes to begin again, but, this too shall end very soon. I'd like to say I'll have a relaxing summer, but, if my summer class makes, I'll be driving 90 miles a day to teach one class. Sigh! I guess the wicked really don't get a rest.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Spring is Busting Out All Over...
Well, here it is, again. My annual spring alert!
My Mayhaw tree has been blooming like crazy, which worries me a bit because I don't think we are through with winter yet. I check it periodically, just to make sure the buds and flowers aren't freezing; I think it's okay. The Forsythia I planted in November is beginning to leaf out, as are many of the trees I received from the Arbor Day Society, so I'm thinking spring is just around the corner. I hope the plum trees I ordered arrive soon. I ordered a Stanley for pollination (I have two other plum trees that need a pollinator) and a Victoriana (English) dwarf plum that is self-pollinating. And of course, all manner of flowering plants on my property are blooming, too--the Japonica, the Jonquils, the Narcissus. Today I noticed that my Azaleas are flowering.
I might be mistaken, but I think Mr. Lester's peach trees are beginning to bloom, too, which means that the vegetable stand should open in about 8 weeks (first week in May). This also means that the bulk of the hawk population should be winging its way back north by the end of the month. Most of them leave around Easter; since Easter's a bit late this year, maybe they'll stay around a bit longer.
I'm a bit worried about the bee situation, though. I saw a piece on CBS that discussed the dire straights that beekeepers are facing--bees are dying in droves. Without bees, we don't have pollination, and that can affect crops. I noticed, earlier in the winter, that the beekeeper who lives 12 miles north of me took down all of her beehives (she had seven). I don't see them anywhere else on the property, so I'm wondering if she has been affected by the bee blight. I'm thinking about buying some Mason bees; they don't produce honey, but they are good pollinators. They live in houses and lay their eggs in straws that protrude from holes in the bee house. It's a thought, and it's less costly and labor intensive than trying to raise honey bees.
Oh, and we have a new cat in our household. His ("its"--he's neutered) name is Golum--for the character in Lord of the Rings. A professor at the college needed a new home for him; the prof is allergic. Golum is settling in. The younger cats find him fascinating; the older cats, who don't even like each other, just stay away from him. I've attached a picture of him here and I'll attach it to my website (dotsmom.com).
So, that's the "state of spring" report from my house. As I'm typing this, I'm hearing my cat, Bubba, sneeze. I think he has allergies, too!
Here's a postscript to the Austin post--speed limits in Texas are just suggestions; I notice, on all of my visits there, that Texas drivers ignore the posted limits, pretty much.
My Mayhaw tree has been blooming like crazy, which worries me a bit because I don't think we are through with winter yet. I check it periodically, just to make sure the buds and flowers aren't freezing; I think it's okay. The Forsythia I planted in November is beginning to leaf out, as are many of the trees I received from the Arbor Day Society, so I'm thinking spring is just around the corner. I hope the plum trees I ordered arrive soon. I ordered a Stanley for pollination (I have two other plum trees that need a pollinator) and a Victoriana (English) dwarf plum that is self-pollinating. And of course, all manner of flowering plants on my property are blooming, too--the Japonica, the Jonquils, the Narcissus. Today I noticed that my Azaleas are flowering.
I might be mistaken, but I think Mr. Lester's peach trees are beginning to bloom, too, which means that the vegetable stand should open in about 8 weeks (first week in May). This also means that the bulk of the hawk population should be winging its way back north by the end of the month. Most of them leave around Easter; since Easter's a bit late this year, maybe they'll stay around a bit longer.
I'm a bit worried about the bee situation, though. I saw a piece on CBS that discussed the dire straights that beekeepers are facing--bees are dying in droves. Without bees, we don't have pollination, and that can affect crops. I noticed, earlier in the winter, that the beekeeper who lives 12 miles north of me took down all of her beehives (she had seven). I don't see them anywhere else on the property, so I'm wondering if she has been affected by the bee blight. I'm thinking about buying some Mason bees; they don't produce honey, but they are good pollinators. They live in houses and lay their eggs in straws that protrude from holes in the bee house. It's a thought, and it's less costly and labor intensive than trying to raise honey bees.
Oh, and we have a new cat in our household. His ("its"--he's neutered) name is Golum--for the character in Lord of the Rings. A professor at the college needed a new home for him; the prof is allergic. Golum is settling in. The younger cats find him fascinating; the older cats, who don't even like each other, just stay away from him. I've attached a picture of him here and I'll attach it to my website (dotsmom.com).
So, that's the "state of spring" report from my house. As I'm typing this, I'm hearing my cat, Bubba, sneeze. I think he has allergies, too!
Here's a postscript to the Austin post--speed limits in Texas are just suggestions; I notice, on all of my visits there, that Texas drivers ignore the posted limits, pretty much.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I heard the news today, oh, boy...
Again, I have to thank the Beatles for a blog title, sort of (I read the news today, oh, boy...). And I did read the news--the obituary--but I heard it first.
The phone rang at 8:30 this morning. Normally, I don't pick up the phone until I hear who is on the line, but I was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee, so I checked the caller ID. My father's name appeared, so I figured my mother was calling me (my dad only calls in an emergency, usually late at night or when I'm in Austin).
I answered, "Hello?"
"I didn't wake you, did I?" My mother's voice.
"No, Mom. I'm just waiting for the coffee to brew. What's up?" I usually just cut to the chase.
"Oh, Kathy. Mr. Paul died yesterday." We chatted a bit about the cause and who was taking care of his one surviving brother and when the mass would be held. I promised to light a candle for him and say a prayer; we hung up after I said I'd stop by to see her on Monday.
"Mr. Paul" is Paul DeBroeck, and I've known him nearly all my life; he and his wife, Miss Mickey, were our surrogate uncle and aunt after we moved to Shreveport from New Orleans when I was seven. When we moved to north Louisiana, we left a large, loving group of relatives behind. The DeBroecks stepped in. Miss Mickey became my mother's best friend. She and her husband took care of us when my parents needed help, and I remember staying with them when my family went out of town--I was in college and couldn't take off.
I have never, and I do mean "never," met two more selfless people in my life. They did not have any children of their own, so every child was theirs. They devoted an extraordinary amount of their time to St. Catherine's Catholic Church in Cedar Grove. Miss Mickey (Her real name, I think, was Mary Michael because her dad expected a boy) wasn't Catholic, but she was just as involved in the church as her husband. They appeared to be two of the most contented, happiest people I've ever known. They were kind, helpful, funny people.
I remember the phone call I received when my son was just a baby. My dad called me Thanksgiving week--I want to say it was in 1981, but my memory is fuzzy--to tell me that Miss Mickey had been murdered, shot to death in their home at Wallace Lake. She and Mr. Paul were going out of town to visit their nieces and nephews. Mr. Paul came home from work and couldn't find her. Her car was gone, but the front storm door was unlocked--Miss Mickey never left her door unlocked out there, especially if she had to leave the house.
Mr. Paul looked all over the house for her; he called everyone he could think of, including my mother, because he thought Miss Mickey had gone into town. Finally, he saw a sheet draped over what he thought was something his wife wanted to take on their trip. When he lifted the sheet, he found her body. She had been shot point-blank in the heart; the bullet lodged in the concrete slab of the foundation.
When the police finally caught the guy who killed her, he was in Georgia. He had stolen her car and credit cards because he "just wanted to go home." If the guy had asked, she would have driven him to the bus station and purchased a ticket to take him wherever he wanted to go.
Mr. Paul survived any number of tragedies, always with a quiet dignity. His second wife, Clyde, slipped into Alzheimer's Disease a few years after they were married. Mr. Paul cared for her until her death. He cared for his brother Hubert until he passed away. I wonder if he felt like Paul Edgecomb in The Green Mile, that he was destined to outlive everyone he knew.
I never heard him complain; he never lamented. He lived his life with joy and humor. No matter what happened, people could count on him for anything at anytime. I hadn't seen him for several years, but whenever I did see him, he always had something kind to say to me.
In keeping with his giving nature, Mr. Paul donated his body to LSU Health Sciences Center for research.
If saints walk on this earth, I knew two of them. The second one died yesterday; I will say a prayer for him and to him.
The phone rang at 8:30 this morning. Normally, I don't pick up the phone until I hear who is on the line, but I was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee, so I checked the caller ID. My father's name appeared, so I figured my mother was calling me (my dad only calls in an emergency, usually late at night or when I'm in Austin).
I answered, "Hello?"
"I didn't wake you, did I?" My mother's voice.
"No, Mom. I'm just waiting for the coffee to brew. What's up?" I usually just cut to the chase.
"Oh, Kathy. Mr. Paul died yesterday." We chatted a bit about the cause and who was taking care of his one surviving brother and when the mass would be held. I promised to light a candle for him and say a prayer; we hung up after I said I'd stop by to see her on Monday.
"Mr. Paul" is Paul DeBroeck, and I've known him nearly all my life; he and his wife, Miss Mickey, were our surrogate uncle and aunt after we moved to Shreveport from New Orleans when I was seven. When we moved to north Louisiana, we left a large, loving group of relatives behind. The DeBroecks stepped in. Miss Mickey became my mother's best friend. She and her husband took care of us when my parents needed help, and I remember staying with them when my family went out of town--I was in college and couldn't take off.
I have never, and I do mean "never," met two more selfless people in my life. They did not have any children of their own, so every child was theirs. They devoted an extraordinary amount of their time to St. Catherine's Catholic Church in Cedar Grove. Miss Mickey (Her real name, I think, was Mary Michael because her dad expected a boy) wasn't Catholic, but she was just as involved in the church as her husband. They appeared to be two of the most contented, happiest people I've ever known. They were kind, helpful, funny people.
I remember the phone call I received when my son was just a baby. My dad called me Thanksgiving week--I want to say it was in 1981, but my memory is fuzzy--to tell me that Miss Mickey had been murdered, shot to death in their home at Wallace Lake. She and Mr. Paul were going out of town to visit their nieces and nephews. Mr. Paul came home from work and couldn't find her. Her car was gone, but the front storm door was unlocked--Miss Mickey never left her door unlocked out there, especially if she had to leave the house.
Mr. Paul looked all over the house for her; he called everyone he could think of, including my mother, because he thought Miss Mickey had gone into town. Finally, he saw a sheet draped over what he thought was something his wife wanted to take on their trip. When he lifted the sheet, he found her body. She had been shot point-blank in the heart; the bullet lodged in the concrete slab of the foundation.
When the police finally caught the guy who killed her, he was in Georgia. He had stolen her car and credit cards because he "just wanted to go home." If the guy had asked, she would have driven him to the bus station and purchased a ticket to take him wherever he wanted to go.
Mr. Paul survived any number of tragedies, always with a quiet dignity. His second wife, Clyde, slipped into Alzheimer's Disease a few years after they were married. Mr. Paul cared for her until her death. He cared for his brother Hubert until he passed away. I wonder if he felt like Paul Edgecomb in The Green Mile, that he was destined to outlive everyone he knew.
I never heard him complain; he never lamented. He lived his life with joy and humor. No matter what happened, people could count on him for anything at anytime. I hadn't seen him for several years, but whenever I did see him, he always had something kind to say to me.
In keeping with his giving nature, Mr. Paul donated his body to LSU Health Sciences Center for research.
If saints walk on this earth, I knew two of them. The second one died yesterday; I will say a prayer for him and to him.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
You may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer...
The Beatles provide me with many blog titles. I don't know that I really have anything to write that relates to the title of this blog, but that line from "Helter Skelter" came to mind after I watched the video about the Beatles' Apple Corps and their recently-settled lawsuit with Apple, Inc. According to what I heard, everybody wins, including Michael Jackson, who owns an interest in Sony, which owns the rights to a chunk of the Beatles' catalogue. According to the news story, this will make much of the Beatles' catalogue available on iTunes, and, thus, the consumer (that's me, obviously) will have greater access to it.
Well, that might be good news to others, but I already, pretty much, own a huge chunk of the Beatles' catalog. I started collecting the Beatles' albums when they first came out on vinyl, though my copies aren't worth much, since I played the hell out of them. But I did manage to replace my albums with cds, as soon as those were available, and I have a few of them loaded on my iPod. If I could point to the band that pretty much defines my life, I'd have to point to the Beatles.
When the Beatles first appeared on Ed Sullivan back in the day, I remember making everyone in my family be quiet so I could hear them. Of course, I couldn't hear the band because the young women in the audience were screaming too loudly. Sullivan had to shush them several times. It didn't help. The only thing I wanted for Christmas that year was their latest album and that's all that I received (big family, not much money). I didn't complain. My sisters did, though, because I played that album incessantly. They couldn't wait for me to get another Beatles' album so they could hear something different.
My feelings for the Beatles run deep; when my husband and I divorced, the only thing he did that angered me was to sell my copy of the White Album in a garage sale. I can forgive my ex everything but that! I managed to replace it (on cd), but that particular album is probably worth more now than he got for it. I might have been able to retire on it.
The Beatles and their music span nearly every decade of my life (except for the '5os--that decade belonged to Elvis). They didn't last as long as The Rolling Stones, but they sure did age better!
John Lennon died soon after my son was born in 1980. When I heard the news, I sat in a rocking chair, holding my son while I cried. George Harrison's death saddened me, too. His contribution to music, while not as familiar to most people as John and Paul's, is profound; he should be remembered for all of his work, but people who don't agree that "Here Comes the Sun" and "Something" are two of the most beautiful songs ever written are not my friends. The tribute concert, performed exactly one year to the day of his death, is one of the most moving concerts I've ever experienced. And his son, Dhani, could be Harrison's clone.
I'm hard pressed to think of one important point in my life where the Beatles don't figure in. I feel as though their music is part of my DNA. I don't care who owns what--legally. As far as I'm concerned, their music belongs to anyone who grew up with it.
Well, that might be good news to others, but I already, pretty much, own a huge chunk of the Beatles' catalog. I started collecting the Beatles' albums when they first came out on vinyl, though my copies aren't worth much, since I played the hell out of them. But I did manage to replace my albums with cds, as soon as those were available, and I have a few of them loaded on my iPod. If I could point to the band that pretty much defines my life, I'd have to point to the Beatles.
When the Beatles first appeared on Ed Sullivan back in the day, I remember making everyone in my family be quiet so I could hear them. Of course, I couldn't hear the band because the young women in the audience were screaming too loudly. Sullivan had to shush them several times. It didn't help. The only thing I wanted for Christmas that year was their latest album and that's all that I received (big family, not much money). I didn't complain. My sisters did, though, because I played that album incessantly. They couldn't wait for me to get another Beatles' album so they could hear something different.
My feelings for the Beatles run deep; when my husband and I divorced, the only thing he did that angered me was to sell my copy of the White Album in a garage sale. I can forgive my ex everything but that! I managed to replace it (on cd), but that particular album is probably worth more now than he got for it. I might have been able to retire on it.
The Beatles and their music span nearly every decade of my life (except for the '5os--that decade belonged to Elvis). They didn't last as long as The Rolling Stones, but they sure did age better!
John Lennon died soon after my son was born in 1980. When I heard the news, I sat in a rocking chair, holding my son while I cried. George Harrison's death saddened me, too. His contribution to music, while not as familiar to most people as John and Paul's, is profound; he should be remembered for all of his work, but people who don't agree that "Here Comes the Sun" and "Something" are two of the most beautiful songs ever written are not my friends. The tribute concert, performed exactly one year to the day of his death, is one of the most moving concerts I've ever experienced. And his son, Dhani, could be Harrison's clone.
I'm hard pressed to think of one important point in my life where the Beatles don't figure in. I feel as though their music is part of my DNA. I don't care who owns what--legally. As far as I'm concerned, their music belongs to anyone who grew up with it.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Life in the Fast Lane...
I went to Austin over the Christmas holiday (for Christmas, actually) to visit my children. This time, I made it from my front door to theirs in six hours and five minutes (on the Saturday before Christmas, no less). And I learned a few things along the way:
1. It is possible to tailgate someone going 70 miles per hour. I know. It happened to me three times, not including the police car I had to move out of the way for. I was flying down the road, looked into my rearview mirror, and was shocked to see my poor car being pursued closely by another.
2. Carnivores do live in Austin. I was beginning to think that everyone (almost) was either vegetarian or vegan, but my son took me to a party on Christmas day where the hosts actually served meat. I was surprised. And pleased.
3. It is possible to have too many cats. My kids claim 9 of their own. But, because they have provided the cats with easy access in and out of the house, every cat in the neighborhood comes in to eat. I counted at least four cats that didn't belong to them going in and out after a nosh.
4. If you leave Austin early enough the day after Christmas, you can avoid the after-Christmas-shopping crowd in nearly every town you go through. I didn't get held up once because of shopping traffic. In fact, I was only slowed down by the speed limit changes.
I enjoyed my visit, even though my daughter left on Christmas day to go to Oakland with her boyfriend. I had enough time to visit with both of my kids, so I was glad for that. I was happy to get back home, even though I had to spend an hour straightening up after my own cats. They had a really good time while I was gone.
****
Speaking of cars, mine is in the shop for repair. I'm driving this mafia rental car--a VW Passat-- and while it is a nice car, it's too big for me. Even with the seat pulled all the way up, my feet barely touch the pedals. Thank God for cruise control. AND it takes premium unleaded gas. I drive 90 miles a day when I have to go to the "big" city to work and premium is expensive. This car is going to cost me $50 by the time my car gets out of the shop; it really shouldn't cost me anything, since I wasn't at fault in the accident. I need to talk to my insurance people about this.
****
School begins again in 11 days. I'm not ready for it. I've spent most of my "off time" knitting. I knitted a pair of socks, a pair of slippers, a baby hat, bootees, and I'm almost finished with a baby blanket (the baby things are for my youngest brother and his wife--they are expecting their first child in February; the baby's a girl--her name is Ava). I'm working on another pair of socks and another pair of slippers. While I was in Austin, I knitted two hats and a scarf. And, if you get to Congress Street, visit Hill Country Weavers. They have a great selection of yarn (some of it is expensive, but worth it).
****
Well, I hope the New Year is good for all of us. I'm looking forward to summer already!
1. It is possible to tailgate someone going 70 miles per hour. I know. It happened to me three times, not including the police car I had to move out of the way for. I was flying down the road, looked into my rearview mirror, and was shocked to see my poor car being pursued closely by another.
2. Carnivores do live in Austin. I was beginning to think that everyone (almost) was either vegetarian or vegan, but my son took me to a party on Christmas day where the hosts actually served meat. I was surprised. And pleased.
3. It is possible to have too many cats. My kids claim 9 of their own. But, because they have provided the cats with easy access in and out of the house, every cat in the neighborhood comes in to eat. I counted at least four cats that didn't belong to them going in and out after a nosh.
4. If you leave Austin early enough the day after Christmas, you can avoid the after-Christmas-shopping crowd in nearly every town you go through. I didn't get held up once because of shopping traffic. In fact, I was only slowed down by the speed limit changes.
I enjoyed my visit, even though my daughter left on Christmas day to go to Oakland with her boyfriend. I had enough time to visit with both of my kids, so I was glad for that. I was happy to get back home, even though I had to spend an hour straightening up after my own cats. They had a really good time while I was gone.
****
Speaking of cars, mine is in the shop for repair. I'm driving this mafia rental car--a VW Passat-- and while it is a nice car, it's too big for me. Even with the seat pulled all the way up, my feet barely touch the pedals. Thank God for cruise control. AND it takes premium unleaded gas. I drive 90 miles a day when I have to go to the "big" city to work and premium is expensive. This car is going to cost me $50 by the time my car gets out of the shop; it really shouldn't cost me anything, since I wasn't at fault in the accident. I need to talk to my insurance people about this.
****
School begins again in 11 days. I'm not ready for it. I've spent most of my "off time" knitting. I knitted a pair of socks, a pair of slippers, a baby hat, bootees, and I'm almost finished with a baby blanket (the baby things are for my youngest brother and his wife--they are expecting their first child in February; the baby's a girl--her name is Ava). I'm working on another pair of socks and another pair of slippers. While I was in Austin, I knitted two hats and a scarf. And, if you get to Congress Street, visit Hill Country Weavers. They have a great selection of yarn (some of it is expensive, but worth it).
****
Well, I hope the New Year is good for all of us. I'm looking forward to summer already!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Cross-Town Traffic...
Okay. In the first place, I shouldn't have been on the bridge. I had planned to drop off the gift at my mother's house and go straight home. But, I reasoned, it would be nice to see my mom since I hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving, so I decided to cross the river and deliver the gift myself.
My sister was hosting a bridal shower for my niece. I hate those kinds of gatherings, so I had no intention of sitting through it. Silly me--trying to do the "right thing."
So, I'm driving up the bridge with a maroon truck following closely on my bumper. The traffic stopped; so did I. The maroon truck managed to keep from hitting me, thank the stars. I let the car in front of me pull further away to give me some space. I hate riding someone's bumper, even if traffic is stopped. All of a sudden, I heard "Screech" "Crunch" "Boom"; I looked into the rearview mirror in time to watch the maroon truck smash into the back of my car.
For a heartbeat, I just sat there, foot still on brake. I put the car in "Park" and stuck my head out of the window.
"Is anyone hurt?" I yelled. The driver of the maroon truck had exited his vehicle to check on the guy behind him. "No," he replied. "Good. I'll meet you at the bottom of the bridge."
I drove down to the bank parking lot at the end of the bridge, flagged down one of the police directing traffic and told him what happened. Then I gathered up my credentials and waited for the other drivers to join me.
A blue truck hit the maroon truck that hit me. I got off easy. My bumper is bent, I can't open my hatch, and I'm having a few muscle spasms in my back, but, other than that, I'm okay. I can still drive my car. The guy in the maroon truck ended up going to the hospital--he hit his head. The blue truck's radiator was busted, so he needed a tow. I feel all together lucky. Only my ego was bruised, and, of course, my perfect driving record came to an end.
In Louisiana, at least, if someone rear-ends you, it's that person's fault. But still, I hate being in an accident. So much paperwork, so much time, having to put my car in the shop to have it fixed. Someone's going to pay for a rental car, that's all I know.
What a great Christmas present for everyone!
If you are out and about, don't be in a hurry. And leave plenty of space between the car in front of you and your car. You'll be glad you did.
My sister was hosting a bridal shower for my niece. I hate those kinds of gatherings, so I had no intention of sitting through it. Silly me--trying to do the "right thing."
So, I'm driving up the bridge with a maroon truck following closely on my bumper. The traffic stopped; so did I. The maroon truck managed to keep from hitting me, thank the stars. I let the car in front of me pull further away to give me some space. I hate riding someone's bumper, even if traffic is stopped. All of a sudden, I heard "Screech" "Crunch" "Boom"; I looked into the rearview mirror in time to watch the maroon truck smash into the back of my car.
For a heartbeat, I just sat there, foot still on brake. I put the car in "Park" and stuck my head out of the window.
"Is anyone hurt?" I yelled. The driver of the maroon truck had exited his vehicle to check on the guy behind him. "No," he replied. "Good. I'll meet you at the bottom of the bridge."
I drove down to the bank parking lot at the end of the bridge, flagged down one of the police directing traffic and told him what happened. Then I gathered up my credentials and waited for the other drivers to join me.
A blue truck hit the maroon truck that hit me. I got off easy. My bumper is bent, I can't open my hatch, and I'm having a few muscle spasms in my back, but, other than that, I'm okay. I can still drive my car. The guy in the maroon truck ended up going to the hospital--he hit his head. The blue truck's radiator was busted, so he needed a tow. I feel all together lucky. Only my ego was bruised, and, of course, my perfect driving record came to an end.
In Louisiana, at least, if someone rear-ends you, it's that person's fault. But still, I hate being in an accident. So much paperwork, so much time, having to put my car in the shop to have it fixed. Someone's going to pay for a rental car, that's all I know.
What a great Christmas present for everyone!
If you are out and about, don't be in a hurry. And leave plenty of space between the car in front of you and your car. You'll be glad you did.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
The End of the Semester (as we know it, and I feel fine...)
It's time, once again, for my semi-annual State-of-the-Educator report.
The fall semester has come to a close; grades are due Monday, but mine are posted already (Yay!), so all I have to do is take copies to the dean of the college and the chair of my department.
All was well until I made the mistake of checking my school email--I found a message from a student who has been chronically late with everything this semester; as a matter of fact, she's turned in the bulk of her assignments in the last week. When I gave her permission to submit her last paper late, she obviously took that as permission to turn in everything she hadn't given me this semester. So, when did she turn in her paper that was due on Dec. 6? This afternoon. At about 3pm.
I'd also like to know how someone could misconstrue this: "Do not email or call me about your grades. Dead Week in the cutoff for discussing your grade with me." Sounds clear to me. I deleted about ten emails from students telling me what grades they didn't have on the course gradebook. As if I didn't know. As if I wasn't working on filling in those pesky little squares.
I wish students were just as diligent about their grades during the semester, or about getting work in when it is due. But nooooooooo. At the end of the semester, though, they yell really loudly about how they don't want to fail and will I pleeeeeeeeease take their late work. I'm usually inclined, by this time, to say "NO!" And, if they catch me in the right mood, I will say "No."
I taught five classes this semester--four of them were composition classes. I read, on average, 60 to 100 papers A WEEK--and heard 60 to 100 complaints about having to write ONE paper or having to read something, for crying out loud, or having to post a blog before Saturday, about how much WORK they have to do for all of their classes, about having to work a job AND do coursework for school, and, geez, they don't have time for a social life, and... I could go on, but you get the picture.
So, for all my students who will read this blog (because some of them will), let me tell you what I did with my time--every class day this semester, I got up at 6:30am; I left my house at 7:30pm, arrived at the school around 8:15 or 8:30am (I live 45 miles away from the college). If I was not working my second job after I finished teaching my classes, or hanging around the university for meetings, I usually would get home around 1:30 or 2:30pm (after my 45-mile return journey; except on Tuesdays, when I taught my night class; I didn't get home until after 9pm or so). I would eat lunch, then start reading/grading papers, quizzes, blogs, etc. I usually worked at that until about 10pm. Most nights, I went to bed around 11pm. On weekends (did I have any weekends this semester? Oh, yeah, I took one weekend to go to Austin to see my kids; that set me back two weeks), I usually would get up around 8am and I'd being grading/reading papers no later than 10am.
And, of course, one or two days a week, I'd work my second job until about six pm, which put me home around 7pm; and I'd just start reading/grading until bed time.
And I usually had to stop in and visit my Mom once a week, or go grocery shopping, or clean out the litter boxes, or talk to my kids and help them with their problems, show up for various family functions (I have 9 brothers and sisters, around 40 nieces and nephews=quite a few family functions).
Is this a complaint? No, it's fact. It's the life I've chosen. If I didn't want to do this, I'd go back to being a secretary or administrative assistant or computer network analyst, or move to the Galapagos Islands.
And that's my point. If what you are doing is too daunting and the rewards too few, then give it up and go do something else.
Yeah, we all need to vent now and then, even professors. But if this is what you want to do, just do it and do it to the best of your ability. Get organized. And get the work in on time. And, if you have problems or questions or need help with an assignment, talk to your instuctor when these things come up, not three weeks after. It's moot by that time. And what can I do after the fact? At some point, I just have to throw up my hands and say "It's not my monkey!"
Okay, that's enough of that.
I was blessed with an abundance of really good students this semester--students who could write and went at it with their whole hearts, students who worked hard to find meaning in what they read and to understand literature's relevance to their lives. They make it worthwhile; they are the reasons I keep doing this, in spite of the students who drive me over the edge, or maybe "despite" those students. As long as I can find the students in my classes who want to be in those classes, I'll keep doing this.
To all my students, have a good break. And come back to school, if you come back, resolved to do the best that you possibly can in all of your courses. And if you decide on an alternate reality, send me a postcard!
The fall semester has come to a close; grades are due Monday, but mine are posted already (Yay!), so all I have to do is take copies to the dean of the college and the chair of my department.
All was well until I made the mistake of checking my school email--I found a message from a student who has been chronically late with everything this semester; as a matter of fact, she's turned in the bulk of her assignments in the last week. When I gave her permission to submit her last paper late, she obviously took that as permission to turn in everything she hadn't given me this semester. So, when did she turn in her paper that was due on Dec. 6? This afternoon. At about 3pm.
I'd also like to know how someone could misconstrue this: "Do not email or call me about your grades. Dead Week in the cutoff for discussing your grade with me." Sounds clear to me. I deleted about ten emails from students telling me what grades they didn't have on the course gradebook. As if I didn't know. As if I wasn't working on filling in those pesky little squares.
I wish students were just as diligent about their grades during the semester, or about getting work in when it is due. But nooooooooo. At the end of the semester, though, they yell really loudly about how they don't want to fail and will I pleeeeeeeeease take their late work. I'm usually inclined, by this time, to say "NO!" And, if they catch me in the right mood, I will say "No."
I taught five classes this semester--four of them were composition classes. I read, on average, 60 to 100 papers A WEEK--and heard 60 to 100 complaints about having to write ONE paper or having to read something, for crying out loud, or having to post a blog before Saturday, about how much WORK they have to do for all of their classes, about having to work a job AND do coursework for school, and, geez, they don't have time for a social life, and... I could go on, but you get the picture.
So, for all my students who will read this blog (because some of them will), let me tell you what I did with my time--every class day this semester, I got up at 6:30am; I left my house at 7:30pm, arrived at the school around 8:15 or 8:30am (I live 45 miles away from the college). If I was not working my second job after I finished teaching my classes, or hanging around the university for meetings, I usually would get home around 1:30 or 2:30pm (after my 45-mile return journey; except on Tuesdays, when I taught my night class; I didn't get home until after 9pm or so). I would eat lunch, then start reading/grading papers, quizzes, blogs, etc. I usually worked at that until about 10pm. Most nights, I went to bed around 11pm. On weekends (did I have any weekends this semester? Oh, yeah, I took one weekend to go to Austin to see my kids; that set me back two weeks), I usually would get up around 8am and I'd being grading/reading papers no later than 10am.
And, of course, one or two days a week, I'd work my second job until about six pm, which put me home around 7pm; and I'd just start reading/grading until bed time.
And I usually had to stop in and visit my Mom once a week, or go grocery shopping, or clean out the litter boxes, or talk to my kids and help them with their problems, show up for various family functions (I have 9 brothers and sisters, around 40 nieces and nephews=quite a few family functions).
Is this a complaint? No, it's fact. It's the life I've chosen. If I didn't want to do this, I'd go back to being a secretary or administrative assistant or computer network analyst, or move to the Galapagos Islands.
And that's my point. If what you are doing is too daunting and the rewards too few, then give it up and go do something else.
Yeah, we all need to vent now and then, even professors. But if this is what you want to do, just do it and do it to the best of your ability. Get organized. And get the work in on time. And, if you have problems or questions or need help with an assignment, talk to your instuctor when these things come up, not three weeks after. It's moot by that time. And what can I do after the fact? At some point, I just have to throw up my hands and say "It's not my monkey!"
Okay, that's enough of that.
I was blessed with an abundance of really good students this semester--students who could write and went at it with their whole hearts, students who worked hard to find meaning in what they read and to understand literature's relevance to their lives. They make it worthwhile; they are the reasons I keep doing this, in spite of the students who drive me over the edge, or maybe "despite" those students. As long as I can find the students in my classes who want to be in those classes, I'll keep doing this.
To all my students, have a good break. And come back to school, if you come back, resolved to do the best that you possibly can in all of your courses. And if you decide on an alternate reality, send me a postcard!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Just leave me the birds and the bees...please!
This is the first "clear" weekend I've had since the semester began--I'll have to read papers tomorrow, and I have a few stragglers I need to grade--but I've actually had some time to work on my online class for spring and to plant my trees from the Arbor Day Society.
I joined the Arbor Day Society during the summer in retaliation for my neighbor cutting down 100-year-old trees. When I joined, the society promised me ten flowering or evergreen trees--I chose the flowering ones--and I subsequently ordered a number of other plants from them. The plants are inexpensive and provide me a way to spruce up my property without going broke. They all arrived at the end of this week and I needed to get them planted pronto. I wanted to have a planting party, but I just couldn't mobilize my forces quickly enough.
So, this morning, armed with a shovel and a rake, I went out and planted 20 plants. When I joined, I chose to receive 10 flowering trees: two Sargent Crabapples, two American Redbuds, two Washington Hawthorns, two White Flowering Dogwoods, and two Goldenraintrees. I later ordered five red Azaleas, two Southern Magnolias, and two Forsythias; for that order, I received a Red Maple.
Finding places for 20 plants/trees seems easier than it is. I tried to ensure that I left at least five feet between my plants, but I'm sure I'll need to transplant some of them next fall. I just needed to get them into the ground as soon as possible. I planted most of them along the fence in the backyard; I plan to create a bird/butterfly/bee garden back there. I already have Plum trees (I need another one of those for pollination; the Plums flower, but they don't produce) and two Mayhaws, so I'm off to a good start. And I have six White Dogwoods already; butterflies love those for laying eggs. I also have flowering Quince (also called "Japonica"--I love that word) and other assorted flowering plants whose names I haven't learned yet. In the spring, my yard blazes with reds, pinks, whites and yellows. I can cut flowers for my house and, while most of my flowering plants don't have smells, they are lovely to see.
If you like to grow plants, the Arbor Day Society is an organization I'd recommend. And $15 a year to help the environment seems cheap.
The only drawback is now I'm on every environmental organization's mailing list! I've received information from the National Audubon Society, the World Wildlife Federation, and the Nature Conservancy. And while the tote bags and bird feeders are tempting, I'd still rather have trees!
So, as Joni Mitchell sings, "Hey farmer farmer, put away the DDT now./Give me spots on apples, but leave me the birds and the bees...please." I want to think I'm doing my part to encourage the birds and the bees (and the butterfles) to hang around my house for a long time.
I joined the Arbor Day Society during the summer in retaliation for my neighbor cutting down 100-year-old trees. When I joined, the society promised me ten flowering or evergreen trees--I chose the flowering ones--and I subsequently ordered a number of other plants from them. The plants are inexpensive and provide me a way to spruce up my property without going broke. They all arrived at the end of this week and I needed to get them planted pronto. I wanted to have a planting party, but I just couldn't mobilize my forces quickly enough.
So, this morning, armed with a shovel and a rake, I went out and planted 20 plants. When I joined, I chose to receive 10 flowering trees: two Sargent Crabapples, two American Redbuds, two Washington Hawthorns, two White Flowering Dogwoods, and two Goldenraintrees. I later ordered five red Azaleas, two Southern Magnolias, and two Forsythias; for that order, I received a Red Maple.
Finding places for 20 plants/trees seems easier than it is. I tried to ensure that I left at least five feet between my plants, but I'm sure I'll need to transplant some of them next fall. I just needed to get them into the ground as soon as possible. I planted most of them along the fence in the backyard; I plan to create a bird/butterfly/bee garden back there. I already have Plum trees (I need another one of those for pollination; the Plums flower, but they don't produce) and two Mayhaws, so I'm off to a good start. And I have six White Dogwoods already; butterflies love those for laying eggs. I also have flowering Quince (also called "Japonica"--I love that word) and other assorted flowering plants whose names I haven't learned yet. In the spring, my yard blazes with reds, pinks, whites and yellows. I can cut flowers for my house and, while most of my flowering plants don't have smells, they are lovely to see.
If you like to grow plants, the Arbor Day Society is an organization I'd recommend. And $15 a year to help the environment seems cheap.
The only drawback is now I'm on every environmental organization's mailing list! I've received information from the National Audubon Society, the World Wildlife Federation, and the Nature Conservancy. And while the tote bags and bird feeders are tempting, I'd still rather have trees!
So, as Joni Mitchell sings, "Hey farmer farmer, put away the DDT now./Give me spots on apples, but leave me the birds and the bees...please." I want to think I'm doing my part to encourage the birds and the bees (and the butterfles) to hang around my house for a long time.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
iPod Update...
Yeah, I like it.
I have 3 days' worth of music recorded on it (all LEGAL!) and I've gotten a season pass to CSI--every time CBS releases a new episode, it's downloaded to my computer. I've subscribed to six or seven podcasts, and I've downloaded several novellas and novels, among them, Heart of Darkness, Emma, The Death of Ivan Ilych, and A Christmas Carol. And let me mention that I've downloaded the entire repetoire of the Mercury Theater (Orson Welles et. al), including an interview with Orson Welles and H. G. Wells discussing War of the Worlds! I think I'm getting my money's worth out of this ingenious little toy.
I didn't know that a number of old movies are now in the public domain; I've found a couple of sites where I can legally download movies such as My Man Godfrey and Beat the Devil; if the movie is available in MP4 format, I can play it on my iPod.
Cool!
I have 3 days' worth of music recorded on it (all LEGAL!) and I've gotten a season pass to CSI--every time CBS releases a new episode, it's downloaded to my computer. I've subscribed to six or seven podcasts, and I've downloaded several novellas and novels, among them, Heart of Darkness, Emma, The Death of Ivan Ilych, and A Christmas Carol. And let me mention that I've downloaded the entire repetoire of the Mercury Theater (Orson Welles et. al), including an interview with Orson Welles and H. G. Wells discussing War of the Worlds! I think I'm getting my money's worth out of this ingenious little toy.
I didn't know that a number of old movies are now in the public domain; I've found a couple of sites where I can legally download movies such as My Man Godfrey and Beat the Devil; if the movie is available in MP4 format, I can play it on my iPod.
Cool!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Flo
I remember standing on Magazine Street in New Olreans as float after float passed by. My grandparents were supposed to be on one of these floats, but I hadn't found them yet. After what seemed to be forever, the last float trundled towards me; there she was! I waved and ran into the street. As I reached the float, a masked woman reached down and handed me a brown-paper-wrapped package. When I opened it, I found, to my delight, a dozen glass-bead necklaces. These weren't the cheap, plastic beads that people fought to catch; these were the kind of beads that would shatter if they hit the ground. My grandmother saved them for me, just for me.
*****
I can't believe this. My first public poetry reading is scheduled the day of her funeral. I'm the only person in my family who can't go--not because of the reading, but because everyone else is going and I have no one to take care of my son. I am heartbroken; I am bereft. I can't say goodbye to my grandmother because I don't have a babysitter.
*****
My sister and I spent a summer with my grandparents. My grandfather was sick, too sick to work. My uncles were still running the shop, putting up gutters and new roofs on houses, so his business was still operating. My grandmother was going to cosmetology school, trying to learn to be a beautician. She was having a hard time; she had never had to work before, and she was afraid because her husband was going to die. He knew it; she knew it. My sister and I, though, didn't know it.
*****
I think maybe the illness came later. I don't remember, really. I do remember riding the train back to Shreveport with my grandmother; her first husband, my other grandfather, worked for the T&P Railroad, so we could ride the train free.
*****
Sometimes, I dream about my grandmother. I dream that she and I are sitting in her apartment kitchen, the apartment she lived in at the time of her death. A row of beer cans are ranged in front of her; she is smoking and her hair is in curlers. That yappy little Chihuahua, Sassy, is sitting on her lap. I hated that dog, and I know it hated me. Whenever I visited my grandmother, I would sleep with her in her bed and the dog would be banished to the bathroom. I understand why the dog hated me, but it wasn't my fault. I don't mind dreaming about my grandmother, but I wish the dog wasn't with us.
*****
When I divorced, I felt a special kinship with Flo. After all, she was the only other person in my family who was divorced. I felt it was one of our special bonds. She liked my ex-husband (well, so did my family), but she understood. Sometimes, you just have to do what you have to do.
*****
I remember one of her poker parties. The special dessert that night was a half of a cantaloupe with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the hollow where the seeds used to be. It's still one of my favorite treats.
*****
Her complete name when she died was Florence Albertine Augustine Kurz Twohig Schubert. Her friends called her "Flo." She hated her two middle names. The last three names encompass a huge cross-section of my family history.
*****
I know why my mother disliked my grandmother. Flo was my father's mother--that's the "Twohig" in Flo's name. But, when Flo divorced my Grandpa Twohig, she married my mother's father, Grandpa Schubert, whose wife had died in childbirth. Sounds incestuous, but it's really not. My mom and dad were teenagers, and it wasn't likely that Flo would have more children. So, I guess you could say my mom and dad are step-sister and -brother, but, again, it didn't really matter by then. Flo and my Grandpa Schubert were childhood sweethearts. The story I heard was that her parents wanted her to marry someone who wasn't a day laborer. My Grandpa Twohig worked for the Texas and Pacific Railroad, so he was "white" collar. I think my grandmother married him just to get away from her mother, who was a tyrant. But my great-grandmother is another story.
*****
After my grandmother's funeral, the women went to her apartment to divide her possessions. My mother had asked me, before she left for New Orleans, if I wanted something in particular. I did. My grandmother had a collection of porcelain, and that collection included an old Chinese man and woman. The man held a fishing pole; the woman held a teapot. I loved those pieces. When my mother came back home, she brought me, instead, a porcelain boy and girl and a scarf. My aunt, my grandmother's daughter, claimed the man and woman. I was glad to get anything that belonged to Flo.
*****
Over the years, my mother has surprised me with other possessions of my grandmother's. She has given me two rose pins and the last strand of glass Mardi Gras beads my grandmother had. When I started collecting bee pins, my mother came out with a silver bee that was Flo's. Who knew that my mother would withhold those things for me?
*****
I think my grandmother is trying to let me know she's here, haunting me. The cats have broken the boy doll twice; the silver bee pin has disappeared, as has the scarf. I'm beginning to feel like the little boy in The Sixth Sense, except I don't see dead people. I just know my grandmother is around me, watching, just waiting for the right moment to show herself to me.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Austin City Limits...
Okay, I admit it. I goofed off this past weekend.
Instead of grading papers, I went to Austin, TX, to visit my kids and watch my daughter, Dorothy, in a performance. She was part of a cabaret show, "Inside a Broken Clock: A Tom Waits Peepshow," which consisted of a series of vaudeville-type skits set to Tom Waits' music. It was bawdy, it was ribald, it was FUN! And how long has it been since I've done anything remotely FUN?
Let me back up. I left for Austin after my 9am class on Friday. I hit Round Rock about 3:45 in the afternoon, confident that it wouldn't take me more than an hour to get to my children's house in East Austin.
Boy, was I WRONG. I usually get into Austin just after the lunch rush, but I had forgotten that the afternoon "rush" hour begins about 2:30pm on Fridays. The traffic going out of Austin was moving at a dead crawl; going towards downtown, the traffic seemed to be flowing smoothly. I was confident that I'd be off the interstate in no time.
Again, I was WRONG. I clipped along at a comfortable 65mph until I hit Braker Lane. Then, stuck behind an 18-wheeler, I moved (when I moved) at 5mph until I reached my exit--an hour-and-a-half later. Getting on to MLK Drive was easier, but, again, after about two blocks, I again crawled along at 5mph until I passed Airport Drive.
I managed to pull into the driveway at 6pm. The note my daughter left me said that my son, Daniel, would be home by 6pm, but that he had a show that night. He's a rapper--no joke, he's pretty good. Dorothy wrote that she wouldn't be home until midnight or so.
I read, I knitted, I scrounged around the kitchen for food. I finally crashed about 11pm without having seen either of my kids. Daniel came in around midnight and he and I had a brief conversation; he had to get up at 7am for work on Saturday. I heard Dorothy come in, but I was exhausted and couldn't open my eyes.
Regardless of where I am or how late I stayed up the night before, I normally wake up anywhere from 7am to 9am. I couldn't sleep late to save my life. But, this past weekend, I got up extra early because my sinuses flared up and I desperately needed to find a drugstore. I can't find my way around Austin without a guide and Dorothy usually drives me wherever we go.
To get directions, I had to wake her up. Not a good idea. My daughter doesn't like to wake up early and she resists all attempts. I stood in the doorway and called her name. She instantly popped her head up from the pillow and----she was bald. She had shaved off all of her hair. Bald as a baby. Really bald.
I was speechless and it took me several heartbeats to stammer out my request for directions, but not before I blurted, "What did you do to your hair?"
She laughed--"I got tired of it. This is so much easier to deal with right now."
She gave me directions to the drug store and crawled back under the quilt.
I took off for the drugstore and the grocery, came back, made a pot of coffee and waited for her to get up and explain why her head was bald.
I never hasseled my kids about their hair or clothes or anything else that wasn't important. They both have their own styles--they don't need me to tell them how to dress. So, when Daniel grew his hair down his back in high school, the only person who complained was my mother. When he shaved his head his freshman year of college, my mother complained about that. I just couldn't figure out why this was an issue. And I still can't.
Now, for my daughter to shave her head--again, it's her hair. She's dyed it red, blonde, black, orange, pink--every color imaginable--and she's chopped it short and let it grow. It's only hair. But I hadn't seen her bald since she was born. Actually, it makes her look taller. Hmm...I wonder if that would work for me?
So, there I was on Saturday, sitting in the restaurant where my son works, surrounded by bald people--my daughter, my son, and my daughter's boyfriend. I felt out of place. But once I got used to it, I didn't think about it again (until now).
I think both of my kids look fine; they have unique styles of dress, unusual tattoos, and rich social and artistic lives. They are living the lives they want and I couldn't be happier for both of them. One thing they aren't is boring and that's all I care about.
Instead of grading papers, I went to Austin, TX, to visit my kids and watch my daughter, Dorothy, in a performance. She was part of a cabaret show, "Inside a Broken Clock: A Tom Waits Peepshow," which consisted of a series of vaudeville-type skits set to Tom Waits' music. It was bawdy, it was ribald, it was FUN! And how long has it been since I've done anything remotely FUN?
Let me back up. I left for Austin after my 9am class on Friday. I hit Round Rock about 3:45 in the afternoon, confident that it wouldn't take me more than an hour to get to my children's house in East Austin.
Boy, was I WRONG. I usually get into Austin just after the lunch rush, but I had forgotten that the afternoon "rush" hour begins about 2:30pm on Fridays. The traffic going out of Austin was moving at a dead crawl; going towards downtown, the traffic seemed to be flowing smoothly. I was confident that I'd be off the interstate in no time.
Again, I was WRONG. I clipped along at a comfortable 65mph until I hit Braker Lane. Then, stuck behind an 18-wheeler, I moved (when I moved) at 5mph until I reached my exit--an hour-and-a-half later. Getting on to MLK Drive was easier, but, again, after about two blocks, I again crawled along at 5mph until I passed Airport Drive.
I managed to pull into the driveway at 6pm. The note my daughter left me said that my son, Daniel, would be home by 6pm, but that he had a show that night. He's a rapper--no joke, he's pretty good. Dorothy wrote that she wouldn't be home until midnight or so.
I read, I knitted, I scrounged around the kitchen for food. I finally crashed about 11pm without having seen either of my kids. Daniel came in around midnight and he and I had a brief conversation; he had to get up at 7am for work on Saturday. I heard Dorothy come in, but I was exhausted and couldn't open my eyes.
Regardless of where I am or how late I stayed up the night before, I normally wake up anywhere from 7am to 9am. I couldn't sleep late to save my life. But, this past weekend, I got up extra early because my sinuses flared up and I desperately needed to find a drugstore. I can't find my way around Austin without a guide and Dorothy usually drives me wherever we go.
To get directions, I had to wake her up. Not a good idea. My daughter doesn't like to wake up early and she resists all attempts. I stood in the doorway and called her name. She instantly popped her head up from the pillow and----she was bald. She had shaved off all of her hair. Bald as a baby. Really bald.
I was speechless and it took me several heartbeats to stammer out my request for directions, but not before I blurted, "What did you do to your hair?"
She laughed--"I got tired of it. This is so much easier to deal with right now."
She gave me directions to the drug store and crawled back under the quilt.
I took off for the drugstore and the grocery, came back, made a pot of coffee and waited for her to get up and explain why her head was bald.
I never hasseled my kids about their hair or clothes or anything else that wasn't important. They both have their own styles--they don't need me to tell them how to dress. So, when Daniel grew his hair down his back in high school, the only person who complained was my mother. When he shaved his head his freshman year of college, my mother complained about that. I just couldn't figure out why this was an issue. And I still can't.
Now, for my daughter to shave her head--again, it's her hair. She's dyed it red, blonde, black, orange, pink--every color imaginable--and she's chopped it short and let it grow. It's only hair. But I hadn't seen her bald since she was born. Actually, it makes her look taller. Hmm...I wonder if that would work for me?
So, there I was on Saturday, sitting in the restaurant where my son works, surrounded by bald people--my daughter, my son, and my daughter's boyfriend. I felt out of place. But once I got used to it, I didn't think about it again (until now).
I think both of my kids look fine; they have unique styles of dress, unusual tattoos, and rich social and artistic lives. They are living the lives they want and I couldn't be happier for both of them. One thing they aren't is boring and that's all I care about.
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