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 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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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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.
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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).
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Well, I hope the New Year is good for all of us. I'm looking forward to summer already!

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.

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!

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.