Huswifery

Reassembling the house this weekend. It's like moving in again! The good thing is, as a side effect we've rid ourselves of a substantial amount of stuff we didn't need, didn't use.

Strange to have a house emptied of feline and Little Boy noises. But the unaccustomed stillness in the hour between 6 and 7 is wonderful.

Word on the Street

I heard after my Shakespeare class today (after breaking into song more than once), that some of the students in my British literature survey course think I'm crazy. My breaking into song in that class as well may have something to do with it.

I don't plan to, it just happens.

The Sun Rising.

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

Introductions, 2012 style

In my 8:00 class this morning, after assigning students to their writing groups, I watched bemusedly as one group spent the first five minutes entering phone numbers, etc., into their mobile phones.

Well, this isn't an auspicious beginning

From a student essay:

Why am I here? You would be better off asking my parents in a situation like this. Considering the money and time is theirs, I really never had much of a say in the matter. College was never my dream. It is now simply my obligation.

Successes

The Baby Boy had a fine first day at day-care. And his mother did alright as well.

I've made it through two days of classes without major gaffes.

My brother unloaded a major albatross.

#79

Sweet kiss, thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite,
Which even of sweetness sweetest sweetner art:
Pleasingest consort, where each sense holds a part,
Which coupling Doves guides Venus chariot right.
Best charge, and bravest retreat in Cupid's fight,
A double key, which opens to the heart,
Most rich, when most his riches it impart:
Nest of young joys, schoolmaster of delight,
Teaching the mean, at once to take and give
The friendly fray, where blows both wound and heal,
The pretty death, while each in other live.
Poor hope's first wealth, hostage of promised weal,
Breakfast of Love, but lo, lo, where she is,
Cease we to praise, now pray we for a kiss.

--Sidney, Astrophil & Stella

Another Big Day

Little Brother has his first day at 'school' today. I know he'll have a fine time--we'll have to wait & see how this sits with his mother, though.

First Day

No jitters . . . just the heart sewn on the sleeve.  Thankful for so many reasons to be here.

Church Photos

"Little Boy, can you smile?"

*scowl*

"Okay, look, if you'll just cooperate, we can get some ice cream afterward."

*scowl*

"Little Boy. That's enough. You want the pictures to look good for Pappy and Grammie, right?

*scowl*

"How about if you just say cheese?"

*scowl*

The Lover & the Beloved

"Who does not realize that without women we can get no pleasure or satisfaction out of life, which but for them would lack charm and be more uncouth and savage than that of wild beasts? Who does not realize that it is only women who rid our hearts of all vile and base thoughts, anxieties, miseries, and the wretched ill humors that often accompany them? And if we really consider the truth, we shall also recognize that in our understanding of great issues far from distracting us they awaken our minds, and in warfare they make men fearless and bold beyond measure. Certainly, once the flame of love is burning in a man's heart, cowardice can never possess it. For a lover always wishes to make himself as lovable as possible, and he always fears lest some disgrace befall him which can make him less esteemed by the woman whose esteem he craves; neither does he flinch from risking his life a thousand times a day to deserve her love."

--Castigilone, The Book of the Courtier, Book 3.

How big a geek?

Well, in addition to being thrilled about Monday, I'm also thrilled about this. That's right: Neal Stephenson has a new novel out. So. Just sayin'.

Taking Stock: Comments

1. You learn a lot about your colleagues and their hang-ups when you sit in a teaching workshop with them.

2. If twenty years from now I'm the type of professor who uses 15 sardonic words to say something that could be said in 5 sincere words, someone please just euthanize me.

3. Redneck + Pickup + Rain: bad combination.

4. I am thrilled about Monday.

5. There are no conflicts more fraught with danger than church conflicts. Especially Baptist church conflicts. *shudder*

6. Among the many pleasures of my life: reading something new, savoring new phrases, new thoughts, new wit.

I read this with much interest

In praise of Melancholy.

...and not just because of my own personal tendencies, but because I think it's something worth thinking seriously about.

My sense is that most of us have been duped by the American craze for happiness. We might think that we're leading a truly honest existence, when we're really just behaving as predictably and artificially as robots, falling easily into well-worn "happy" behaviors, into the conventions of contentment. Deceived, we miss out on the great interplay of the living cosmos, its luminous gloom, its terrible beauty.

The American dream of happiness might be a nightmare. What passes for bliss could well be a dystopia of flaccid grins. Our passion for felicity hints at an ominous hatred for all that grows and thrives and then dies. I'd hate for us to awaken one morning and regret what we've done in the name of untroubled enjoyment. I'd hate for us to crawl out of our beds and walk out into a country denuded of gorgeous lonely roads and the grandeur of desolate hotels, of half-cracked geniuses and their frantic poems. I'd hate for us to come to consciousness when it's too late to live.

If you click through, be warned: it's long.

solace, partner, treasure

a friend is in prosperity a pleasure, a solace in adversity, in grief a comfort, in joy a merry companion, at all times another "I," in all places the express image of mine own person, insomuch that I cannot tell whether the immortal Gods have bestowed any gift upon mortal men either more noble or more necessary than friendship.

Is there anything in the world to be reputed, I will not say compared, to friendship? Can any treasure in this transitory pilgrimage be of more value than a friend, in whose bosom thou mayest sleep secure without fear, whom thou mayest make partner of all thy secrets without suspicion of fraud, and partaker of all thy misfortune without mistrust of fleeting, who will accompt thy bale his bane, thy mishap his misery, the pricking of thy finger the piercing of his heart?

--Lyly, Euphues (1578)

Delight

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

"Delight in Disorder," Robt. Herrick (1648)

Balm

Last night, we at Luigi's Mansion all needed some quiet, some rest, something to feed our souls. The boys got it by going to bed (which helped the adults too, heh).

And then there was our listening to this, Rutter's Requiem.

A requiem is a service for the dead, of course, but it's every bit as much for the living: we need rest, too, on occasion.

Ooooh, envy

This is an indication of something

. . . if only I knew what:

During our faculty senate "retreat," we were put into our committees to do a little bit of meeting and greeting. Conversation turned to the topic of adjuncts. Listening rather than talking (imagine that), I noted that the person whose discourse most centered on notions of control and exerting authority was the faculty member from the ed school.

Misused word of the day

"RETREAT."

As in, I am going to the Faculty Senate Retreat today." What I am actually attending is a morning-long set of meetings. "Retreat" makes me think of an alpine chalet, a tropical spa. Not spending the morning in a room with institutional carpeting. Yet all these meetings that start the school year are called "retreats." I'm still waiting for my first Pina Colada.

Marginalia

Few can remember
clearly when innocence came
to a sudden end,
the moment at which we ask
for the first time: am I loved?

***

Fear and Vanity
incline us to imagine
we have caused a face
to turn away which merely
happened to look somewhere else
(after Erik Eriksen)

***

True Love enjoys
twenty-twenty vision,
but talks like a myopic.

--Auden, 1965-68

Loxosceles reclusa

Evidently, we've got quite a population of the little guys!

Talk about something that will give you the heebie-jeebies...poisonous spiders all over the house. ugh.

(warning for arachnophobes: link above goes to a page with a picture of a spider on it!)

Take a Deep Breath

A sign-post points him out his road:
But names no place,
Numbers no distance.

* * *

Not daring to saunter,
He made forced marches,
Uphill, against the wind.

(Auden, 1963-64)

Self-Conscious

Nothing will make you more aware of the absurdity of your morning toilette than to have a three year old stand in the bathroom with you and ask about every item you use. Heh. Pope's lines seem apt here:

And now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed,
Each silver vase in mystic order laid.
First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores,
With head uncovered, the cosmetic powers.
A heavenly image in the glass appears;
To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears.
The inferior priestess, at her altar's side,
Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride.

Taking Stock: Why didn't they tell us?

Heard last night at our first choir rehearsal in about 8 months: "well, they say that the most stressful time in a couple's marriage is after the birth of the second child."

Taking Stock: Pleasures

It's a habit I fall into readily, especially when stress is mounting: I get a bit pessimistic.

Who, Piers? Pessimistic? You don't say! --aaaah, shaaaddaaaahhp.

But as I went to get my coffee from the office pot this morning (I make it for the office.), I was given a moment to think: being here, writing & reading, drinking coffee, is a pretty pleasurable thing. What else brings me pleasure? It's not something I think about much, so here we go, in a mind-stretching exercise, heh:

1. riding my bike. What a discovery.
2. reading a good book, whether trashy sci-fi or highbrow classic (David Copperfield is taking me forever and a day to finish, but I am enjoying it).
3. The Baby Boy smiling at me when I peek into his crib in the morning.
4. the back yard on a pleasant afternoon.
5. tending the flowers.
6. discovering or being introduced to new music--and listening to old favorites, too.
7. sunny mornings & clear nights.
8. The Little Boy sitting near me while I read him a book.
9. riding across campus to work in the morning, when it's still cool & quiet.
10. a good drink.
11. most of all, your company. Yes, you.

whew! Finding eleven things to smile about! What an exhausting experience--glad I don't have to do this very often.

Taking Stock: Hitting "Play"

The department "retreat" (the term they use around here for a long meeting) is the signal that preparations had better be in earnest, because classes start soon. I always look forward to setting foot in the classroom again--it's one of the places I can truly lose myself in what I'm doing (along with the bike). I feel my energy level, my attention, my mental focus, changing from its summer slumber to something a bit sharper. Maybe.

We had plenty of discussions today about certain things we need to pay attention to, and one of those things is the dreaded grade inflation. It somehow morphed into a discussion of the Major Field Test, which our English majors evidently routinely whiff on. One of the suggestions is that we devote more time to basic factual knowledge about periods, genres, etc. The other suggestion is that we use more multiple-choice testing. I'm a baaaad faculty member, because I hate being told what to do in my class. I also hate meetings that turn into group therapy.

Just a few days of preparation left. . . thinking about ways to change what I do.

Taking Stock: What Lies Within

George Herbert

AFFLICTION. (IV)

BROKEN in pieces all asunder,
Lord, hunt me not,
A thing forgot,
Once a poor creature, now a wonder,
A wonder tortured in the space
Betwixt this world and that of grace.

My thoughts are all a case of knives,
Wounding my heart
With scattered smart ;
As wat'ring-pots give flowers their lives.
Nothing their fury can control,
While they do wound and prick my soul.

All my attendants are at strife
Quitting their place
Unto my face :
Nothing performs the task of life :
The elements are let loose to fight,
And while I live, try out their right.

Oh help, my God ! let not their plot
Kill them and me,
And also Thee,
Who art my life : dissolve the knot,
As the sun scatters by his light
All the rebellions of the night.

Then shall those powers which work for grief,
Enter Thy pay,
And day by day
Labour Thy praise and my relief :
With care and courage building me,
Till I reach heav'n, and much more, Thee.

dirty words

church committee meeting.

hey! wash your mouth out!

What the!?!?

I don't have the nicest bike in town. I'm not the biggest or fastest or most accomplished or most experienced rider. But until today, I could at least claim that I was the only guy in town that rides a Scott S50 (it's an entry-level bike, but hey, I like it). Sitting in the front yard about 30 minutes ago, I hear the telltale sound of a bike chain & sprockets. I look up, and shooting past the house, going down the hill . . .

. . . a guy on a Scott S50.

Well, hell. Gotta give up that "distinction" too.

Taking Stock: A Tribute

Chance brought us together, in one of its happier moods. I'd never known anyone with your wit, your way of seeing things, your knowledge about things I've never experienced. It was at a good time, too: when it would have been easy for me to close the valves of my life, become the stoic sage manque. We found, as things blossomed, that we shared more than we thought we could, and that allowed us to develop a deep, sometimes wordless connection of mind and heart.

Time, space, and circumstance have done their work to intervene, make things complicated, but still: you have made my life infinitely richer, and you have reminded me (mercifully) to live--to laugh--to be better than I am.

I have been truly close to only a very few people (blame it on my personality, my upbringing, whatever), and I've got some pretty severe hang-ups, but I thank the Heavens for you.

Frieze!

I remember the scene in The House of Mirth when the beautiful Lily Bart takes part in performing some tableaux . . . That's what I was reminded of when I saw these pictures:

Greek Friezes, reenacted & photographed.

These have the added advantage of being Classically inspired, which as a "renaissance man" (no, not a real one--I just play one at work) I really appreciate.

I want to see this!

I usually lose interest in movies by the time they come out, but dern, this looks like a blast:

Burn After Reading

In homage to one of my earliest intellectual heroes

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, RIP.

Live not by Lies. (1974)

excerpt: And he who is not sufficiently courageous even to defend his soul- don't let him be proud of his "progressive'' views, and don't let him boast that he is an academician or a people's artist, a merited figure, or a general--let him say to himself: I am in the herd, and a coward. It's all the same to me as long as I'm fed and warm.

From Guazzo's "Civil Conversation"

"For the true pleasure (to speak humanly) is that which naturally giveth pleasure to all persons in general. And therefore, though solitariness be agreeable to melancholic persons, yet it is unpleasant to all other."

Reminds me of that great survey question: "Is your child shy or friendly??"

We have a five month old

Just for the fun of comparison:

Um, am I speaking to a human?

Got a phone call yesterday from Honda of America, Inc., to inquire about our experience when we bought the Fit from Darrell Waltrip Honda. I was able to say that we were most pleased (so count this as an endorsement from people who live three hours away from Franklin, TN). The uncanny part of the conversation was, though, that I couldn't tell whether I was talking to a person or a computer. On the one hand, the voice on the other end appeared to be engaged in a conversation with me. On the other, it didn't put words together at all like a person would . . . there were gaps in funny places, and it sounded awfully unctuous at times. I thought about going off-script just to see what the voice would do, but didn't want to prolong the transaction (I'm not the biggest fan of phone calls). So: cyborg? cylon? borg? dominion? vulcan? Keanu Reeves?

Or maybe it was Asimo!

Personnel

A few months ago, I was talked into serving on the personnel committee at church. The person I spoke to assured me that the committee rarely met. That proved to be the case until this week. Today will mark the fourth time in less than a week that we've had to meet. At issue: an office squabble between two individuals that has now exploded, with one resigning and the other one looking sure to be released.

Naturally, both persons are from 'church families,' meaning that far more people than the two are immediately affected by what has taken place. Furthermore, the person still on staff (for the moment) has managed to alienate everyone she has worked with. The spouse of this person is very ill--completely unable to work. We're looking at releasing a person responsible for the entire family income.

That makes me sick. The problem is, this person's behavior is so far beyond the bounds of what's acceptable that unless we hear something amazing today, we cannot allow the person to remain without resorting to gross negligence. Yuck.

Most Awesomest Blog Commenter Ever

On one of the blogs I follow, there is a serial commenter named Sir Archy. Here's a sample, from a recent comment thread (the full comment is much longer):

In short, Madam, the Internet may be all these things and a thousand Others. Here is God's Plenty, as Mr. Dryden says. Yet, 'twas loos'd upon Mankind in a very few Years, and hath little tangible Existence aside from Boxes fill'd with very odd Things, Wires, & Shadow-Screens. However we may take the sensible World of God's Creation, the Internet, its Mirror, shews us the same Human Variety, not omitting the Good and the Ill.

That the Internet may have engender'd its own Sort of Mischief-Makers should not surprize us, for the evil Impulse of Men may be found everywhere; yet the human Figures we see shadow'd through this Glass darkly, may seem much out of the ordinary Run of Life. Evil may appear all the more sinister, especially to those whose Judgment was form'd before this Looking-Glass was polish'd, silver'd & fram'd. Now that the Glass is before Us, ne'er to be removed, it may be contemplat'd with a greater Equanimity and philosophical Calm, and the Reflect'd Shadows seen as perhaps no worse than the Originals.

I wish I had even a dram of that wit.

Weather at the lunch table

At lunch today: The Little Boy is told to take his spoon out of his sock. He starts making a scowly face at W. She makes fun of him, so he changes it into a joke: "There's a thundercloud at the table!" Everyone laughs. Inspired by the laughter, he goes on to point to W and say, "and you're a sunshine!" W says that he is being sweet. Then he turns to me: "And you're a lightning!" Laughter all around at Dad's expense, especially from the beloved spouse.

We're Ready

It's August, which means several things:

1. The heat makes it understandable when you're wanting to be lazy and take an afternoon nap.
2. Tomatoes and summer squash and cantaloupe.
3. NFL preseason starts tonight!

(guess which we're most excited about)