Pamphilia to Amphilanthus #15

Your sight is all the food I do desire;
Then sacrifice me not in hidden fire,
Or stop the breath which did your praises move:

Think but how easy 'tis a sight to give;
Nay ev'n desert; since by it I do live,
I but chameleon-like would live, and love.
(9-14)

For Blakbuzzrd

Songs sampled by Daft Punk. link.

Carbon! We gots your carbon!

I don't really have a dog in this fight, but I do think it's great for a laugh.

The Gores used about 191,000 kilowatt hours in 2006, according to bills reviewed by The Associated Press.

I mean, dang. That's a lot of power.

Adventures with Faculty, Vol. 1

I am teaching "Honors" composition in the Fall, which means I'll be teaching the brightest first year students we have. I'm also at a total loss in terms of planning the class, because I've not been at all satisfied with either 111 (first-semester comp) class I've taught so far. I'm sharing the 111H duties with a colleague who's been here a lot longer than I, and she wants to 'collaborate.'

Oh lord. She caught me in the office yesterday, expressing her excitement about teaching a bunch of southern writers on 'the family.' Not my cup of tea, exactly. So when she asks me how many novels and plays I'm planning on teaching, I say, "none." I go on to explain that I was trained to teach composition classes more focused on writing than reading, so I use short stories and essays if anything. Her response:

Oh, these are the brightest students we have. You should challenge them--they can handle it. Give them lots of reading, make them rise to the occasion. They'll complain, but they will get it. So the reading, ah, the reading! We should collaborate on a set of short stories.

My face assumes, I imagine, a stonier complexion the longer this monologue goes on. I duck out as soon as I can get away. But there'll be no easy escape: I just received her 'draft' course description by email.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 1

In my 1:00 survey class, I have a student who has a great attitude but a lousy ability to read social signals. He's enthusiastic, sharp, but unfortunately looks a lot like a cheeto-dusted compulsive World of Warcraft player, if you know what I mean. He talks a lot, which he probably shouldn't, and here's a perfect case in point from yesterday:

I'm waxing eloquent (or something) about the 'hunt' conceit in one of Wyatt's sonnets, and in a fit of levity I happen to mention something about calling the cops, stalking, etc. This student picks up the cue, and blurts out this gem:

Well, you only get about three years for stalking!

It took me a few minutes to restore order, as he continued to talk in a vain attempt to explain himself. Dude, just turn on the filter, K?

Piers Returns

. . . with two new series!

Adventures with Faculty, and
Adventures with Students.

. . . and they'll start off pretty good, I think

Argh

I've had a cold for three weeks

It's too cold to not wear a jacket in the morning, but too warm to wear a jacket in the afternoon

Sunshine? What's that?

S. A. D. is for real

No football

Can't even think of material for this supererogation

I hate February.

I'm not activist, but I could get that way about stuff like this

Read especially the portion down at the end of the article. See if you can name the part that would make Orwell roll over in his grave.

Life with a Toddler, Vol. 26

We were in the nursery yesterday watching the two-year olds during church. Actually, we were in The Little Boy's classroom, so it was him and five other urchins. I stand watching The Little Boy play on a rocking contraption with a little girl named Emma, when all of a sudden he plants a kiss right on her lips! And then they get on the floor, and he drapes his arm around her back and they're whispering sweet nothings!

Son, not the football coach's daughter! I swear, he didn't learn that behavior from me!

Life with a Toddler, Vol. 25

We have an announcement. Late last week, The Little Boy decided it was time for Thomas and Elmo underwear. As of today, we've gone 3 or 4 straight days without a single accident. Both 'numbers,' if you know what I mean.

Life With a Toddler, Vol. 24

Last night, as Piers is changing his shirt, the following words from The Little Boy:

"Look at that big tummy!"

what's that, buddy?

"Daddy, you got big tummy!"

(W laughing uproariously)

"Mommy, see that big tummy?"

thanks a lot, kid.