As the Holiday of the Half-Lit Tree comes to an end,

(and not coincidentally, the year),  I'm thinking about how things have been this past year, what I learned, what I lost and gained. 

• I earned tenure
• a new enjoyment in my bike(s)
• a far better understanding of what depression means for me long-term
• a recognition that school (for the kids) takes up as much of our energy as it does theirs
• I met some new students and said goodbye to some good ones
• I have worked in a role that has forced me to strehhhhhhhhhhtch

anyway, there's plenty to navel-gaze about, to ponder, to plan to do better, and so on.  Isn't that what this post-Christmas week is for?  Other than cleaning up, I mean.

We do it for them.

At the Manger

(Titian)

I. Mary
O shut your bright eyes that mine must endanger
With their watchfulness; protected by its shade
Escape from my care: what can you discover
From my tender look but how to be afraid?
Love can but confirm the more it would deny.
    Close your bright eye.

Sleep. What have you learned from the womb that bore you
But an anxiety your Father cannot feel?
Sleep. What will the flesh that I gave do for you,
Or my mother love, but tempt you from His will?
Why was I chosen to teach His Son to weep?
    Little One, sleep.

Dream. In human dreams earth ascends to Heaven
Where no one need pray nor ever feel alone.
In your first few hours of life here, O have you
Chosen already what death must be your own?
How soon will you start on the Sorrowful Way?
    Dream while you man.

.   .   .

III. Wise Men
Child, at whose birth we would do obsequy
For our tall errors of imagination,
Redeem our talents with your little cry.

(Auden)

Two Days Prior to Christmas

. . . and the children are crazy with excitement, and the parents are looking a little . . . frayed . . .

It's time to look at course evaluations!

Here's the gist:

Very enthusiastic and energetic.  He tends to go off on tangents and they are hard to follow.

• I have "incredible energy and passion" that is "contagious."
• "I loved the attitude that was intentionally generated by the professor it was very positive and humorous."
• "Great guy."
• "BLACKBOARD is a very useful tool to review the syllabus, post grades, and would have been beneficial."  (fat chance . . . until they make Blackboard better)
• My "teaching rants" were particularly good.
• "Keep baring your inner nerd! It's what makes your classes the best."
• "Made jokes and funny comments to avoid boring us . . . others should take his class, because literature is boring, but he makes it a little interesting."

Thoughts

1.  In a strange twist of fate, it looks like I'll be teaching Sunday school again.  At least until I say something too heterodox.

2.  I get my lip sliced on tomorrow.  Looking forward to some Christmas stitches.

3.  Walked into Barnes & Noble last night, and discovered that they have totally changed their approach in the past half year or so.  Half the store at least was taken up with Nooks and toys and games (not to mention the music/video section).  Makes sense from their standpoint, especially now that Borders has bitten the dust.

4.  Discovered something this past week:  when at home with the children, it helps one's sanity to just give up entirely on doing one's own "stuff."  There is no way to do anything other than pay attention to what the children are saying/needing/doing/getting into.  And that's assuming the kitties are behaving.

5.  The Eldest has finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and started reading James and the Giant Peach to Honey last night.  She was horrified at the first chapter, when James's parents get eaten by a giant rhino and he has to go live with his two evil aunts.  How to explain Roald Dahl's brand of the macabre to a grandmother?  hmmm.  I remember loving those books so much at his age.  It has been fun to hear him laugh out loud at some of the stuff he reads.

Days off

I am assuredly still alive. This is the recovery/mr. Mom phase post semester. I shall have more to say anon.

Monday Update, Deluge Edition

 It started raining on Saturday evening and hasn't stopped yet.  Pretty sure the cattle are going to be floating away any time now.

Number One Son has made his list to "S-N" (i.e., Saint Nick).  He gave it to Frisbee, our elf, to take to the North Pole (he, like Piers, is a true believer). His list includes the following items (just as he wrote them):

• skateboard
• iPod
• real guitar
• football uniform
• wings
• remote control robot
• wind controller
• Power gloves

Read an article on Friday of last week that sums up much of what my thinking has been over the past couple of years.  Snip:

The progress Christian and the bank executive share the same heathen thinking about the mechanics of human being.  “If he has will power and guts, he will make the grade.”  Give, get.  Pay, receive.  Hand over, get back.  Work, pay.  Offer, exchange.  Tell the truth, avoid depression and addiction.  The relentless pursuit of perfection.  The process of perfecting ourselves.  You act, and Jesus reacts.  Progress Christendom abides by these rules.

Progress may sneak some language into his lexicon about “relying on God” or “letting go,” but the listener should not be deceived into thinking that progress does not believe that a little prayer and elbow grease will solve the problem.  Progress thinks in a very Hindu way, and his advice bears little relation to the Christian doctrines of justification and whatever it is that we call sanctification.  The progress Christian might wear religious garb, adhere to Christian doctrine, and obey Christian commands.  But he adds fuel to a fire that slowly burns away at the world.

 And sure enough, in Sunday School yesterday, there was an awful lot of talk along these very lines.  Read through to the end of the article.

Our Christmas Tree is a wreck.  Only half the lights work, and as the days go by, more and more ornaments disappear from its lower branches.  Sigh.  It was a nice tree, too.

The Runner finished the Memphis St. Jude half marathon this past Saturday.  She had a great time--so much so, that she'll be running another one in a few weeks.  She and LE, who lives next door with her husband J and little one G, have a great time running together.  Proud of her; glad for her to have this thing she does and loves so much.  Even if it's crazy.

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 33

So on Wednesday night this past week, Number One Son complained about feeling ill and indeed fell asleep before 6:30.  It was about 12:30 in the morning when he finally threw up in his bed, and we did the whole shuffling around thing & stripping of bed linens and changing of clothes (without waking up either of his brothers, I might add).  The Runner was quite concerned that he had The Dreaded Stomach Bug, but fortunately, he slept soundly the rest of the night.

The following morning, he was "too sick to go to school," which meant that we had to do some creative thinking about our schedules.  This was fine.  The remarkable thing is that by about 9:30 or so, he appeared to be in perfect health.  Imagine that.

I remember pulling the same "sick" trick a few times when I was in 1st grade at Garden Hills Elementary School in Atlanta GA.  I'm wondering in retrospect if it wasn't a manifestation of anxiety of some sort.

He went to school just fine on Friday...didn't appear to have suffered for missing a day.  Imagine that.

In which Piers realizes something that he should have known already.

There has been a tendency to think about my mental health over the past ten years as a set of poles:  I'm either "depressed," or "experiencing depression," or I'm "not depressed."  I don't know if anyone other than myself has thought of it in those terms, but that's the way I've tended to view it.  I have been wrong in my perspective. I realized today, as I have been sitting at my desk being mostly useless because I can't really find enough energy to focus on any one thing, that this too is a symptom of my condition.  As is the tendency to want to sleep a lot.  As is the general sense of anhedonia that I've felt for most of November.  As are periods of deep withdrawal. As are periods when I don't particularly want to eat.  When seen as a set of symptoms of a chronic illness, each coming and going at different times and in response to a huge range of stimuli, these individual episodes make a lot more sense.  None of them should individually cause a panic or a sense of crisis; they are unpleasant, but hardly disastrous in themselves.

In which Piers WORKS HARDER

It's not the worst problem in the world to have, but it is something I've been grappling with:  the problem with being a "gifted child" and growing up with that designation is that one begins to believe that anything is possible if one works hard enough.  This works fairly well, if you're lucky, all the way through college. 

The downside of this orientation comes when Real Life rears its head (whenever that happens).  Eventually, one comes up against an obstacle (either within or without) that cannot be surmounted by any amount of effort.  Faced with an unwonted failure, the interpretation must be that there just wasn't enough effort put forth (itself a failure). 

WORK HARDER goes the internal refrain, until it breaks.  There are cases where all the effort in the world is just not enough, and it's nobody's fault.  Time to let it go?  Undoubtedly.

Depression is anger turned inward.

So if I'm depressed, I may need to look at what anger I'm turning inward.

What do I have to be angry at myself about?
At whom or what am I angry that I have anger to turn on myself?

As I told The Runner last night: God gives different things to different people. He gave me a mind that is destined to never be at peace with itself.

In Which Piers is dumbfounded

When sitting in an executive committee meeting (with, among others, the chancellor, the provost, a UT trustee, and the dean of the business school) and taking minutes, having a guest speaker do the following over the course of 15 minutes is, well, breathtaking:

1) told how he has always thought the faculty senate was an utter waste of time.
2) described how on two separate occasions the information he was to present was brought before a senate committee and never made it to the floor of the senate itself, which disgusted him so much that he walked straight out of the senate meeting.
3) showed us the figures, which essentially prove that pay raises have not kept up with the Consumer Price Index (duh.  But this was his big revelation).
4) insulted persons who choose music or english as majors/careers because they don't make as much money.
5) accused the chancellor (to his face) of attempting to stifle dissent.
6) told us we didn't have any business even pretending to work on important stuff if we couldn't immediately provide the $ cost to the university for a 1% pay raise across the board.
7) scrawled vulgarities on a flipchart to punctuate his points
8) told us that he expects to be punished for saying what he said
9) when asked how he would propose to fix the problem--i.e., where the money should come from--continued to point back to the chart and said, "give me my money."
10) baited/mocked the member of the committee who showed outward disgust at what he was doing.

...and this is just what I remember.  I try to imagine that most people are trying to do the right thing most of the time, but this--wow.  And the person presiding over the meeting just let it go on and apparently didn't see any problem with what had transpired.  Not sure what to make of that either.

A mere five years

During lunch today, The Runner (while attempting to corral an unusually amped-up Youngest Boy) remarked that we used to have just one.  The above is a picture from when that was the case...a picture taken almost exactly five years ago.  How much has changed since then.  In all honesty, Piers feels a little more ragged now than he did then.

Monday Update, Weekend from Hades Edition

I contracted a bit of a cold late last week.  My voice failed on Friday.  I was forced to stay home with the Youngest One (who himself was pretty ill) on Saturday while The Runner and the other two went to a birthday party at Ya-Ya's Island.  By Saturday night, I was having violent chills.  Did better yesterday.  Feeling okay today, except that I still have no voice, so I cannot teach.  This is all following the usual progression, but it's no fun.  Doctor?  Why yes.

One of the downsides of my teaching "method":  if I can't hold forth, I can't really hold class.  EL, my pedagogy instructor at UNC, used to tell me that I worked way too hard as a teacher.  In cases like this, one can see her point.

Also no fun:  having a 20 month old who feels like krep but doesn't know how to talk about it, and whose respiratory distress may or may not be:  allergies, asthma, croup, tuberculosis, pneumonia, or the grippe. He is doing much better today, thank goodness.

There are circumstances at work that are making it especially hard to be positive.  I am happy to serve in positions of leadership/service, but I am only able to do my job properly when my superiors do their jobs properly.  There is one in particular who can't be bothered, so it has gotten increasingly frustrating as the fall semester has progressed.  And we still have the rest of Nov., Dec., Jan., Feb., Mar., and Apr. to go.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 37

This is a typical ailment for me:  I get a cold, and then it settles in my sinuses and my throat, and then I lose my voice, and then sound like a bass for a few days.  I taught two of my three classes today, and got some funny looks because my voice was so out of whack.  I also got a couple of funny responses, like the one above.

Steady . . . steady . . .

There are times when everyone in this house appears to be on a different page, during which every child appears to be having his own crisis, and in which there are multiple melt-downs per child per day. 

This is one of those times.

Bitter the taste in my mouth

Just returned from the conference with the people at Number One Son's school.  His IQ scores weren't even close.  His OTHER scores weren't even close.  Either we've just been mistaken all along, or the results of the tests weren't all that reliable.

I'm not disappointed in the boy, but I am disappointed that my expectations and hopes were so out of line with reality.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 36

When teaching Paradise Lost, I always emphasize the portion in Book 4 where Adam and Eve are both presented to us in all their naked glory:

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,

God-like erect, with native honour clad

In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all,

And worthy seem'd; for in their looks divine

The image of their glorious Maker shone,

Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure—

Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd,

Whence true authority in men: though both

Not equal, as their sex not equal seem'd;

For contemplation he and valour form'd,

For softness she and sweet attractive grace;

He for God only, she for God in him.

His fair, large front and eye sublime declar'd

Absolute rule, and hyacinthine locks

Round from his parted forelock manly hung

Clust'ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad;

She, as a veil down to the slender waist,

Her unadorned golden tresses wore

Dishevell'd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd

As the vine curls her tendrils—which implied

Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,

And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,

Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,

And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. 

I emphasize several things in this passage, among them the connection Milton makes between Eve's hair and her alluring sexuality.  I point out that a woman's hair, particularly when it's long and tousled, is highly erotic.  I know I'm on pretty solid ground in saying that, but I say it with a bit of caution because most of my students don't like to talk about eroticism in class.

 

The complicating factor yesterday was that in one of my classes, there's a young woman (a soccer player) with long, tousled, lovely hair.  She sits on the front row.  

 

I made sure I didn't look at her!  

Monday Update, Hiatus Over Edition

This past week was the week of preparing to do battle over Number One Son's status at the primary school.  After receiving word that he had not qualified for the CLUE program (I don't know what it stands for), we went into a funk and then started to gather evidence and advocates for a counter argument.  As it turns out, he can't be tested again this year, so we'll work on things the best we can until next year.

He has begun complaining that his stomach hurts, and has mentioned that he's bored at school.  We'll keep trying for his sake, but it's frustrating.

We also learned what happened that made his test scores come out lower than they probably should have:  when the time came for the test, a woman that he did not know came and got him, then took him to a room he'd never been in, and then he was under the impression that he was to work through the test as quickly as possible.  That's a trifecta of trouble for our little introvert.  It may be that he never qualifies for the gifted student class, but I would feel more comfortable with the result if the test had been given in a way so as to reach a reliable, valid result.

We also had a pitiful moment with him yesterday.  When we got home from church, he was acting really odd--didn't want to eat, complained about his stomach and head hurting.  I went back to check on him after he had been in his room for a while, and asked what was going on.  He told me that when he was in sunday school, the teacher kept asking so so many questions, that his brain felt like it was going to "pop."  After a bit more fruitless questioning, The Runner decided that she would have him draw it.  Which he did.  As it turns out, she was asking questions that he didn't know the answer to, apparently working her way around the table, and he got really embarrassed and anxious (look at all the question marks around his little figure).  Poor guy.

Speaking of poor guys, Little Red had a bout with asthma this past weekend.  Kept him up a good portion of Friday night/Saturday morning, which meant that it kept the parents up.  Yes, I did my stint too.  There was a big plus:  on Saturday afternoon it was just me and him at the house, and when he's by himself, he's a different child.  We did maze after maze and colored about a dozen pictures, and played board games, and he was as happy as a clam.  It was nice...I'm not sure I've ever done that with him before.

Still putting the house back together after the carpet-related disarray.

I'll be back

Sooner or later.

Yay books!

I'm thrilled to have a new bookcase!  Thanks to Papa and Honey for donating.

It is hard to live deliberately.

It is hard to make reasonable choices as often as we should.

Thus, we all need some compassion.

A lesson learned about being an adult

The difference between being an adolescent and being an adult can be summed up in one's sense of expectations and one's reactions to them.  An adult learns, eventually, that some days (or weeks) are rutted and harsh--sometimes such that one bottoms out completely.  Having learned that, the adult comes to expect that such days will come when they come--usually without fault or special cause. 

What to do about those days that bottom out?  Well, the adult learns to take a while to gather himself, then stand up, brush off the dust, and keep going.  Often it helps to mutter a curse or two to get the blood flowing.

In which Piers gets a little . . . exercised

 I am not an irascible person by nature.  I am not overly confrontational, and I try very hard to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I was taught how to behave.  I have cultivated compassion and empathy to the extent that I'm able.  I also try to remain humble and try not to shoot off at the mouth.

But ye gods, yesterday tested my resolve in ways I've not experienced in a long time.  The hits kept coming from 3:00 until about 5:30.  I know the value of self-control, but I'm afraid that when I'm a bit on the angry side, it tends to show.  Heart on the sleeve and all that.

And then there was Twitter . . . after which I swallowed the rest of it. 

The boys wondered what was up with me.  Sometimes dad has a bad day, we explained.

One more thought about the weekend

I have never been more frightened at a child's sickness than I was on Friday night, as Little Red sprawled on me, fighting for breath, his heart beating incredibly fast.  When The Runner bundled him into the Queen Elizabeth and scooted off to the ER, I was half expecting a life flight to Vanderbilt, and half expecting the Dreaded Phone Call.

When he got home, I grabbed him and pulled him close.  He looked taken aback, and said, "but daddee, I alright!"

Indeed, he was.  Not sure how he does it, but he sure does push my buttons.

Monday Update, Old Pig & New Carpet Edition

No, not in pain . . . just singing happy birthday to us.

So, we had ourselves the 6th Annual Hawks Road Hawg Roast on Saturday.  A full accounting of the festivities would have to describe the midnight trip to the ER by Little Red and The Runner (they were there until about 9:00 am); the concurrent trip to the ER by Honey and Papa (imagine The Runner's surprise when her mother was wheeled in while she was dealing with Little Red); an unexpected conflagration; and Number One Son's birthday party which was held directly before the Pig Pickin proper.

I'm not sure which was the bigger hit:  the pork (which was good, I thought), or Fluffernutter (who had a blast).

It was also a pleasure to watch Number One Son run around for hours & hours, thoughtlessly enjoying himself.

We (he and I) had a birthday on Friday.

Today, and continuing through the rest of this week, there is new carpet being installed in my house (and it's about time, too).  Who knows what shall be found when the old carpet and pad are removed?

Finished the latest by my favorite contemporary author yesterday.  Enjoyed it immensely.  

Traditionally, the weeks following the Pig Pickin have us rolling up the sidewalks and hunkering down for the winter.  We cannot do that this year--too many ambitious plans for the yard.  Too many things still to take care of.  Plus, it looks like the grass is gonna have to be mowed at least one more time.

Actually, there's a hell of a lot to plan for now that we're reaching the end of October.

This is the last day I can legitimately refer to this.

So.

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 32

From the paperwork that was sent home with Number One Son today. 

Monday Update, Getting Ready for the Pig Pickin Edition

Fall Break was not much of a break for me, but then again, that's not all that surprising, is it?

The weather has turned fall-like just in time for this weekend's event, for which we continue preparations.  As usual, though, most of the work has to wait until the day before/day of.

We have literally no idea how many people are coming.  Not sure we did the best job in the world getting the word out.  Facebook obviously no panacea.

Got official word yesterday:  Fluffernutter is a SHE.  So if we should give her a real name, it will have to be a girl's name. 

The really busy phase of the fall season is about over; after this weekend's Big Event (no tee shirts this year) there's just Halloween, so we can hunker down a little more and watch more TV. 

Speaking of which, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is finally available on Netflix!  I'm so excited!

There are times when there is so much going on that I find it almost impossible to concentrate on anything.  This is one of those times.

In which Piers Ponders Pants

 I want these herringbone slacks.

I like this company's style, and the fit of their pants.  I'm getting to the age where any old pair of old navy or gap khakis will not quite do the trick.

but at $200?  hmmmm. 


They are nice pants, though.

"Look sir, look sir, Mister Fox sir!"

In which Piers needs his fall break

pressure??  What pressure?

In which Piers tries not to roll his eyes

 In a meeting yesterday, the consultant/facilitator uttered the following words & phrases approximately a dozen times each:

"Steering Committee"
"Task Force"
"Initiative"
"Strategic Goals"
"Move Forward"
"Incentives"
"Facilitating"
"Process"

There is an art in saying so little while using such impressive verbiage.

Hard Play; Good Lines

 Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
(1.5.40)

No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall--I will do such things--
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep.
I have full cause of weeping, but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!
(2.4.276-284)

Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.
(3.4.29-37)

A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine I loved deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.  Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman.
(3.4.83-93)

When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words! They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
(4.6.100-104)

A follow up to yesterday's video

This one is from a few years ago.  When Little Red was, well, littler.  That child has the most uproarious laugh.

Monday Update, What Do You Mean Another Cat edition

I was working on grading a paper yesterday afternoon, when Number One Son burst into the house and shouted, "Sock is back!"  I followed him outside to find Little Red sitting in the middle of the yard with a black and white shorthair in his lap.  It was not Sock.  But was Little Red in love yet again?  Yes he was.  He carried that cat all over the yard--and the cat was remarkably compliant in the face of such treatment.  Fluffernutter was not as impressed.

I do not know if we're back up to three cats now or not.  But I do know that only one is living inside in any case.

Apparently, we've been having flea trouble thanks to Fluffernutter's regular incursions into the house.  Applied treatment to both kitties yesterday and saw almost immediate improvement, including watching one flea in its death agonies on our bathroom floor.  

This weekend, we began making strategic plans for the Pig Pickin.  There are lots of plans to make.

I'm short on news, mainly because last week was such a blitz.  I'm still blitzed, actually.

Need to come up with some new goals.  Short and long term.

Star Student for September

May I present one of the MPS "Star Students" for the month of September.  He'll get his picture in the local paper, and came home with a pencil and a ribbon.

Apparently, he was also given some kind of screening test yesterday for the gifted program at his school.  He was confused about what was going on . . . we assured him that it was nothing bad.

Also:  one of his front teeth has started coming loose.

In which Piers unearths one of his not-so-surprising quirks

This morning, I got kind of a late start.  I went on a bike ride (cold! I hate cold!), and then waited for the runner to get finished with her . . . run . . . and then we went to the coffee shop, and then I came into the office.  I had canceled my 9:30 class, so there was no real rush. 

Except the really weird thing was that because I didn't have that tight schedule this morning, I never really got the engine revved up very high.  I've kinda coasted through the day so far.  Apparently, if I have a slow morning, I have a hard time attacking the day. 

Good thing there's not much to attack today!

Monday Update, Happy Birthday to The Runner Edition

Today is The Runner's birthday.  I've had the boys sing to her multiple times, and she got to open her presents early this morning (so she could use them on her run).

I spent all day yesterday--the part not at church, I mean--grading papers.

Speaking of church, The Runner and I sat through our first "new members" sunday school class yesterday . . . probably the first time in almost a year that we've attended any sunday school class at all.  It was fine.  Did you know that there's an "A-C-T-S" method of prayer inspired by the Lord's Prayer?

Those refs should have caught that fumble return for a touchdown in the 3rd quarter during the Bama-Florida game rather than absolutely blowing the call.  That way, the Gator quarterback would have been off the field and not bent like a pretzel on the next play.  I feel awful for the guy.

Uncle B and the two girls--and Grammie--came for a rare visit on Saturday!  We had a good time.  Little Miss K really liked the kitties.  Little Miss B wasn't too sure about them, especially big ol' Sidney.  That was okay by him . . . he wasn't too sure about her either.

I have expressed some frustration with my colleague before, but this weekend he posted something online that was so inane that I just threw my hands up in exhaustion.  I'm not going to worry about it anymore . . . let Grill be Grill.

I never rest.  It's when you take the time to sit and rest that the tree swallows you; that Orgoglio comes crashing through the underbrush; that you get overtaken and ruined.

Mimosa Pudica

I remember seeing these as a kid growing up. Even in our yard!

A moment of self-reflection

If I could just come to peace with the fact that I'm a passionate person, instead of working to keep it tightly sealed all the time, I would probably be more . . . at peace.

Yeah, not likely. 

Google is hard

I read this comment yesterday on the official blog for the faculty senate president at my institution:

No doubt you have often wondered, as have I, how it has come to be that P-16 educators are paid so little in our country. The main reason, I believe, has something to do with how career educators are attracted to the human-improvement project; in love with both the ideas and with the people likewise attracted to the project. Now, if food, clothes, shelter and books were just not so darn pricey.

He ends with a smiley face, just to let us know that he's not all that serious.

I'll grant that this is a small point, and a common one that people bring up:  teachers aren't paid enough.  One doesn't get into education to get rich, etc.  Fair enough.  But here's the thing:  on an official forum from an elected faculty official, hosted on the university website, might one make sure one's pronouncements are accurate? 

I googled for salary figures. It took all of two minutes to find the following from a government site:

national mean salary:  $38,330
national mean salary for educators:  $50,440

$12,000 more than the national mean for all professions.  Plus (if you are in a public institution) high job security, far better than average benefits, a relatively kind work schedule (i.e., not working the night shift, etc.).  To make a point like the one above, especially in a region of the country where unemployment and poverty is particularly high (and in light of a recent plant closing one county over)--well, I think perhaps he might better have just kept that little thought to himself.

I mean, don't we expect a bit more from tenured university professors?

Monday Update, Kitty Heaven Edition.

Rest in Peace, and enjoy the heavenly buffet, Watermelon Kitty.

Sad news:  Simon the Watermelon Kitty is apparently gone.  Given that he was fat and lazy and neutered, and hasn't eaten from his bowl in three days, I have to assume that he was killed somehow.  He was perfectly fine on Friday evening, and then, *poof!* 

I think I'm the only one who really misses him.



Well, to be fair, Fluffernutter misses him too . . . she's obviously lonely and has been extra insistent about being let inside.

I spoke at an induction ceremony yesterday . . . something I've never done before.  It's not the same as lecturing!  But!  I was brief, so it's a win.

Little Red is slowly getting better thanks to judicious and regularly delivered breathing treatments.  Every evening he falls asleep while he's sitting and getting it . . . so at least this simplifies bedtime for Number One Son and the two parentals.

While I was on campus doing various things yesterday afternoon, the children asked to see the wedding video.  At the very opening of the video, there are baby shots of the two of us.  Definitive proof:  The Youngest looks just like The Runner did at his age; Little Red looks just like me (aside from the hair color).  If I had the pictures, I would post them to demonstrate. 

The schedule last week was mostly simple; this week it gets complicated, with a work function, and a student-teacher conference for Number One Son, and zillions of meetings for me.  The weekend is free . . . for now.

In a sobering turn of events, my job as Faculty Senate secretary has been enormously complicated because I simply don't think El Presidente is doing his job properly . . . or even that he has his priorities straight.

Quote of the week:  On Saturday at lunch, while Number One Son was enumerating all the people he has to take care of (i.e., all the children in the extended family who are younger than he is...which is all of them...), Little Red remonstrated, "nuuhh uhhhh!  I can take care of myself!!"

Poor Little Red

Second night in a row he has fallen asleep while getting his breathing treatment.

In which Piers prepares a speech

I have to speak on Sunday.  Not preach!  no, no, no no no nononono.
Part of what I'm writing down today that I may use on Sunday:

I'll tell you what else this isn't about:  it's not about preparing yourself for real life. I would never think to insult you to say that it is! As many of you can attest, this college business is quite real enough, thank you.  Many of you carry jobs, maintain relationships both pleasant and otherwise, and manage crises involving keys, flash drives, cars, friends, grandparents, and any number of other real life things.  Some of you have faced pretty stiff pressure from home and are here in spite of it.  That's all real life, as is the studying and the lectures and the meetings and the movies.  Each of you, in short, has a story to tell full of joy and woe, and you're in the midst of telling it even now.

I will be brief.

Poet-king

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden.  Learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream,
From which awaked, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this.  I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity, and he and I
Will keep a league till death.

(Richard II, 5.1.16-22.  My students don't like the play, but I love it.)

Tunay ng Pilipinas

This put a lump in my throat.

Some make a question,

graviores morbi corporis an animi, whether the diseases of the body or mind be more grievous, but there is no comparison, no doubt to be made of it, multo enim saevior longeque est atrocior animi, quam corporis cruciatus (Lemnius, lib. I, cap. 12), the diseases of the mind are far more grievous.

--Robt. Burton, Anat. Mel., 1.4.1.

Monday Update, Wise edition

I drove to Wise, Virginia.  I attended several presentations and gave one, then I came back to NWTN.

I shall now call my good friend JMA "The Ageless Wonder."  He looks exactly like he did in high school...it's amazing.  Thanks to him and his spouse WTA for putting me up as they do every year.

Thanks, too, to Honey for saving my bacon not once but twice.

A sample of what transpired this weekend

The xii weapons of spiritual battle which every man should have at hand 

when the pleasure of a sinful temptation commeth to his mind:

1. The pleasure little & short
2. The folowers grief & heuynes
3. The lost of a bettir thing
4. This life a dreme and a shadowe
5. The deth at our hand & vnware
6. Ye fere of impenitent departing
7. Eternal ioy eternal paine
8. Ye natur & dignyte of man
9. Ye peace of a good mynde
10. The gret benefites of god
11. The penyful cros of crist
12. The witnes of martyrs and example of seyntis.

In which Piers takes his annual eastward pilgrimage

An accurate representation of the orderliness of my mind

I start the drive today.  I hope Mollie the CR-V can make it as far as Nashville.  She's showing her age a little bit.

You know, doing this job is not all that difficult.  I enjoy the research I'm doing, and of course I enjoy the teaching and student interactions.  The difficulty comes in trying to take care of actual life while doing the business of this research/teaching/service gig. 

I actually understand how it is that some academics become strange, even unpleasant people--the work of creating balance is just too much, so they give up (that is, assuming they weren't strange, unpleasant people beforehand).

I realized last night that if something happens to me on this trip (not that I'm expecting it to!), neither Little Red nor the Youngest will have any actual memories of me.  I can't let them down.

"Accursed be a cowardly and covetous heart!
In you is villainy and vice, and virtue laid low!"
Then he grasps the green girdle and lets go the knot,
Hands it over in haste, and hotly he says:
"Behold there my falsehood, ill hap betide it!
Your cut taught me cowardice, care for my life,
And coveting came after, contrary both
To largesse and loyalty belonging to knights.
Now am I faulty and false, that fearful was ever
Of disloyalty and lies, bad luck to them both!

It was a Tuesday.  I was driving to Weldon Thornton's house to mow his yard.  I had NPR on just as it was switching to a BBC feed.  The Beeb's presenters mentioned that a plane had hit the south tower, and briefly commented that it was rather "fantastic" (in the sense of "surprising") that such a thing would happen.  I went on and mowed the grass.  Two hours later I turned the radio back on, and the world had been utterly transformed.

I cannot bring myself to watch the news today, because the talking heads on the TV cannot possibly be worthy enough to tie the shoes of those that died ten years ago, let alone talk about them.  In the face of such horror and heroism, the only fitting response is silence.

In which Piers goes to the Soybean Festival

And the youngest gets to ride the carousel.

Tonight's band:  Kansas!  Too bad the concert starts at 9:00.

In which Piers gets an invitation

From the email I received last night:

T____ T___, our president, nominated you to be our induction speaker and/or to become an honorary member of Phi Eta Sigma. Our induction fee is $40. You do not have to be inducted to be our keynote speaker.
 
It is my pleasure to invite you to be our keynote speaker and to be inducted into Phi Eta Sigma!
 
If you choose to speak, the traditional topic at our induction is the importance of achieving and maintaining exemplary undergraduate academic performance. The projected time to speak is approximately 10 minutes.
 
Please email me regarding your decision to be our keynote speaker and/or to be inducted.

I'm bemused, but I have accepted, of course.  It's an honor to be asked!

September is busy.

This week:  Soybean Festival. 

Next week:  conference in Wise, VA.

Following week:  lots of meetings.

...and then we're into October, and we all know what that month is like.

Fluffernutter

She is a little fuzzy ball of awesome.  Once or twice a day she sneaks into the house and streaks to Number One Kitty's food bowl.  Little Red then gets her, hoists her over his shoulder, and carries her back outside. 

She also likes to attack bare feet with her itty bitty (sharp!) kitten teeth.

Monday Update, Maximum Warp Edition

We are glad to have the issue with Number One Son that we do have.  To keep us humble, we have Little Red apparently showing some mulish tendencies in his day care class.  He does not like to be told what to do.  In this respect, he is exactly like his mother.

Speaking of Little Red, the "why would you put that in your mouth??" issue weighs heavily on us these days.  Just this past Saturday, he came in from the sandbox chewing on something.  I held out my hand and said, "what do you have in your mouth?"  He spat out this yellow foamy object and said, "earplug."  Sure enough, it was one of those foam earplugs . . . nicely swollen from all the moisture it had absorbed.  I wanted to take a picture of it, but apparently it got lost.  Probably ingested or something.

We are thinking of turning to sugar free gum for our orally-fixated child.

I have spent part of this Monday up at the office, catching up on some work that was starting to get away from me a little bit.  It has been more difficult than I had anticipated to get my feet under me this semester.  Some of it's an energy thing (I don't have much); some of it's a focus thing (what's that you're saying?); some of it's a matter of having harder work to do than before.  It's hard to be patient with myself.  I'm trying desperately to get up to speed.

We have officially branded this summer the summer of the garden FAIL.  The veggies just never seemed to thrive.  And then there was the fact that we got basically ZERO rain all of August.  Not sure what we did wrong, really.  We're looking into fall/winter crops.

I grilled/smoked a brisket for the very first time yesterday.  It worked out pretty well for a first attempt.  I would have posted that on Facebook, but I get kinda annoyed when I read statuses that provide nightly menus in exhaustive detail (you know the kind I'm talking about).  I like cooking, but I don't do it for recognition by my Facebook posse.

I was told this past week that I'm "kinda a legend" at this institution.  I didn't really know how to respond to that.