Piers Penniless

Tonight!

2012-01-31T10:57:00.002-06:00

Monday Update, Balmy Weather Edition

2012-01-30T14:59:00.000-06:00

The Runner sent the children out to play on Saturday and on Sunday. It was warm enough that the elder two refused their jackets. Well, they wore them out the door . . . then shed them.

I taught my first Sunday school class in a good while yesterday. It seemed to go well enough. I'm not accustomed to teaching in that setup, so I've got some adjusting to do. They chuckled in the appropriate spots, and I fairly cleanly fielded the one unexpected response I got . . . so far so good. The Runner says I did fine, so I trust her.

Rough weekend from a psychological standpoint . . . as I mentioned yesterday evening, it's hard to feel like all one's efforts are mere drops in the bucket all the time. . . while the bucket continues to get bigger and bigger. The Runner was kind enough to assure me that I'm doing a better job than I give myself credit for. My fear is that the moment I start believing that I'm doing alright, the bottom will drop out and I'll end up on my face. That is a state of mind I've had since The Year I Almost Died. . . and invalid though it may be, it's a hard lesson to unlearn.

We did show the boys Star Wars on Friday night (I refuse to call it by its hokey new name).

The weather is good. I should be out on the bike. Always something more.

Bupropion XL 300

2012-01-29T13:38:00.000-06:00

I am wondering if perhaps I don't do better without taking this particular drug . . . I ran out of my supply around Wednesday of last week and found that I was doing just as well if not better without it. Time for a change, perhaps?

In which Piers hangs tight

2012-01-25T11:16:00.002-06:00

I mentioned a couple of months ago that I'm pretty sure that the "depression thing," so to speak, isn't going away any time soon. . . it's not something that I'm going to get better from. It will continue to be a condition that I manage by managing the various symptoms that arise from time to time. One does not finally overcome the kind of DSM-IV disorder I possess; one learns to keep it relatively under control and then request more aggressive intervention when necessary.

Most annoying to me is that I feel myself paralyzed by anxiety from time to time. It comes for no reason other than run of the mill work stress, but I find that it has a major effect on my ability to complete even the most unexceptionable of tasks. . . to say nothing of actual research and writing and parenting, which are the more energy-intensive pursuits I must tend to. Yes, I said annoying. I know what's going on; I know it will pass; I'm not concerned by it . . . but I have to endure it. And I have to force myself to keep the rest of my life going when all I really want to do is take a nap.

Depression lies; its lies are manifold and merciless. Part of being an adult about this (again, "being an adult" is my motto for the year) is recognizing that it's not permanent and not a cause for panic as long as I do my best to make good choices and manage the things that are most important to me. I think it also comprises the novel notion that perhaps I need not try to bring home 6-8 hours of potential work every night, and then kick myself for not doing that 6-8 hours of work.

I am anxious about many things, but I also recognize that the anxiety need not be the final word.

Also, maybe I should cut down on the coffee.

Adventures With Students, Vol. 37

2012-01-23T14:42:00.000-06:00

Today in my 16th Century Literature class I had a new experience.

We are discussing Castiglione's Book of the Courtier, and today's topic was Book Three, in which his interlocutors discuss the relationship between the sexes.

Student X says the following as we get close to the end of the class (I can't remember the words exactly; what follows is a paraphrase of our conversation: "Well, before Constantine created the Bible, women were in fact equal. Jesus's wife walked beside him."

me: uh, Constantine? Wife?

Student X: "Mary didn't walk behind Christ, but beside him."

me: Mary? You mean his mother Mary?

Student Y: "No, Mary Magdalen."
Student X: "Yeah, Mary Magdalen."

me: !!!!!!!!!!!!! Jesus was married??

Student X: "Certainly. In the Jewish tradition, the bridegroom handles the wine, so in the wedding at Cana, Jesus would have had no reason to handle the wine if he were not the one getting married."

me: (glancing around and seeing the natives beginning to get restless) I've never heard any of this before! I'd be interested to know what your source material is on all this . . .

Student X: "Oh, the gnostic tradition."

me: (almost snorting) aha, I understand a bit better now.

Student X: "Yes, see, when Constantine made the Bible, they changed a lot, and that was when women were treated as subordinate to men."

me: (hearing Twilight Zone music) I'm gonna quibble with your history a bit--the Hebrew Scriptures predate Constantine by a good long while and there's pretty clear hierarchy going on there... but anyway . . . what were we talking about? I can't remember. I've lost the thread. We're out of time anyway, so I guess you all should just go . . .

Monday Update, Dark and Stormy Night Edition

2012-01-23T11:20:00.004-06:00

We made it just fine last night, though apparently you would have thought the world was coming to an end. We dutifully hunkered down in the hall bathroom while the sirens blared, and then put all the children back in their beds. Little Red had gone to sleep before 6:00 and snored all the way through. This morning he was amazed to hear that he'd been in the hall bathroom for an hour in the middle of the night.

We are still enjoying upper and lower G-I adventures at our house . . . it was Little Red on Saturday night, and The Runner is not sure how she feels at the present. I was the only one from our family to make it to church yesterday morning, but I had a class to teach . . . so . . . I joked that the only reason I was there before the starting time was because I was the only one from my house who was actually able to come!

Work has begun piling up quickly. I felt great last week . . . until Thursday, when all of a sudden it was like someone backed up a dump truck and unloaded right on my shoulders. Oh well. . . I guess the being adult part is the part where you bear up and make the best of it.

Trying to maintain balance.

In the department of unfortunate timing

2012-01-21T21:14:00.001-06:00

A notice came across our "Swapshop" email list yesterday about two boxer pups. I want this puppy. Would Little Red love this dog? Yes, yes he would. But because it would fall to The Runner to do so much of the caring for the dog, we both have to accept that now just isn't the time.

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 34

2012-01-19T15:03:00.000-06:00

The other night, Number One Son was feeling awfully weepy--which has happened a lot recently. We have changed the bedtime routine & are being much more strict about enforcing it, which has caused some dismay on the part of the two older boys. A couple of nights ago, it was Number One Son, tuning up and crying because we weren't going to let him and his brother spend time playing on the floor. As soon as Number One started crying, Little Red started a raucous cackling--quite infectious, actually. I left the room, seeing that The Runner had things well in hand. I learned later that Little Red turned to his older brother, put his hand on his face, and gently said, "don't cry, Johhthan."

He was laughing to help his older brother feel better. What a kid.

Also, the craziness from the week before Christmas has not abated. I don't know what has gotten into Number One especially, but he sets the others off big-time. Testosterone supplements, maybe?

Century

2012-01-17T16:27:00.001-06:00

I'm planning to ride this century in April. I must start training today, but that involves pulling out the trainer, bringing in the bike, and spending an hour each evening in front of the television sweating. April 21 is awfully early in the season for such a long event. waaaah! I don't waaaaaaaannnna exercise!

Monday Update, MLK Edition

2012-01-16T10:47:00.002-06:00

Looks like they roped me in after all. After not hearing anything for several weeks, I thought the sunday school class thing was done. But yesterday the pastor grabbed me and they were relieved to have me agree to start teaching next Sunday. I figure it'll work out okay until I say something too heterodox. Ha! Ha! Just kidding!

I wouldn't have agreed to do it--especially given my tenuous relationship with Baptist polity these days--but that class really needs a teacher in the worst way.

Number One Son continues to exhibit the strangest behavior! For one thing, his front tooth is so loose that it's starting to make him look like Cletus from over in the holler. Or Larry the Cucumber. But it's like there's this enormous amount of energy that he can barely control, and when he's wild, he sets the other two off. Mealtimes are especially chaotic.

Classes start in earnest tomorrow. Last week was a false start, really. I'm excited about that part, really. The rest of the responsibilities are really weighing on me. I honestly don't feel up to them. Not sure if it's a reasonable or valid reaction to the realities here, but that's where things stand at least.

I'm reminding myself to be thankful this week--for my gainful employment, for my students, for my healthy children, for harmonious relationships with parents and in-laws. So many people don't get to enjoy these things.

Two guiding principles: adulthood demands that you work even with the less-than-ideal, and that you learn to invest yourself wisely.

Martin Engineering

2012-01-14T20:45:00.001-06:00

It finally came time today to replace the light in the master bathroom. The old one has been broken for ages. So, when we pull the old one out, what do we find? We find a hole. No box, no proper connection . . . Just a hole, with insulation falling out all over me and my clothes and the floor.

So, I Martin-engineered a solution. It only involved one trip to Rural King and one trip to Lowe's. For now the new light is working fine.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

here we goooooooo

2012-01-13T14:28:00.002-06:00

With the start of the semester always comes a welter of mixed feelings. . . glad to be back at work and relating to (most of) my students again. It's fun to see them a second or third semester. I'm glad to see (most of) my colleagues as well. The regularity of a semester schedule is good for me.

This semester, even more than in most cases, I have to learn (or keep learning) the art of investing my time wisely. There are too many things to see to, and I honestly cannot get to them all in a given day. I've got Peter Parker's problem, but in the inverse: I have great responsibility, but I'm not so sure about the great power bit! Which is why, again, I should think less about spending myself and more about investing myself . . . in people and projects that can actually bear fruit. And to do so without guilt that I should be doing better.

It has been a week since I posted last.

2012-01-11T14:53:00.000-06:00

A week in which I had the boys by myself for a weekend, and in which I've been frantically getting ready for the upcoming semester. A lot is going on.

The one thing I have wanted to point out: there are several things that are not all that great about living in NWTN. The boys having room to roam, however, IS that great.

"Task Force" = the devil?

2012-01-04T19:44:00.000-06:00

This portion of New Year Letter seems apropos:

To say two different things at once,
To wage offensives on two fronts,
And yet to show complete conviction,
Requires the purpler kinds of diction
And none appreciate as he
Polysyllabic oratory.
All vague idealistic art
That coddles the uneasy heart
Is up his alley, and his pigeon
The woozier species of religion,
Even a novel, play or song,
If loud, lugubrious and long;
He knows the bored will not unmask him
But that he's lost if someone ask him
To come the hell off in the links
And say exactly what he thinks.
--Auden (1940)

Monday Update, New Year Letter Edition

2012-01-02T22:06:00.001-06:00

And so, the holiday comes to an end. I spent a good part of the day at work today, and Number One Son starts back to school tomorrow. He's ready. As for me, I have ten days until the spring semester starts. I thought I had another weekend in there to get ready! Oh well.

The building was empty. Why was I the only person on the first floor, you ask? Because I had to produce some material for a task force I'm on, and for which we have a two hour teleconference on Wednesday. Part of my problem in doing work like this is that I see it as more or less a diversion from real work . . . the problem I was supposed to address, for instance, is the recruitment and retention of faculty. The answer is very simple, but we're supposed to pretend that it isn't. The university needs more money to both raise salaries and reduce teaching loads. The nominal issue (according to my assignment) is the revision of "policies and procedures." Like hell . . . policy revisions will not address pay deficiencies or overloaded instructors.

I tend to want to redefine issues when they appear to be so dishonestly addressed, but have to force myself into the professionalism of playing with the hand dealt to me. Still, it gives me a headache.

What came home like never before this "break": the parenting really is unrelenting. Just when we have a handle on what one is doing, the other changes the rules. The Youngest, for instance, has decided that it is his turn to start exerting his will. This is fine, and doesn't scare either of these parents. But the screeching in anger does wear on the nerves. Today, when I got home, it was "look at this!" and "let's do a science experiment!" and "let's build legos!" and "can we watch Wild Kratts on your computer?" . . . and this was all between 3:30 and 5:00. Don't get me wrong: I know how fortunate I am to have the children I have, but I also know that they won't let up on us.

What I need to do is some research, writing, and serious reading before the term starts.

But who, though, is the Prince of Lies
If not the Spirit-that-denies,
The shadow just behind the shoulder
Claiming it's wicked to grow older,
Though we are damned if we turn round
Thinking salvation has been found?
Yet in his very effort to
Prevent the actions we could do,
He has to make the here and now
As marvellous as he knows how
And so engrossing we forget
To drop attention for regret;
Defending relaxation, he
Must show impassioned energy,
And all through tempting us to doubt
Point us the way to find truth out.
--Auden, New Year Letter, Pt. 2

(I read this at the beginning of every January)

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

2011-12-31T15:05:00.001-06:00

(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.

2011-12-26T21:49:00.001-06:00

We do it for them.

At the Manger

2011-12-24T12:44:00.001-06:00

(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

2011-12-23T23:36:00.000-06:00

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

It's time to look at course evaluations!

2011-12-21T15:43:00.002-06:00

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

2011-12-18T09:29:00.002-06:00

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

2011-12-14T13:49:00.001-06:00

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

2011-12-05T11:41:00.001-06:00

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

2011-12-03T14:02:00.001-06:00

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.

2011-11-29T14:36:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-28T08:14:00.001-06:00

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.

2011-11-17T13:05:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-16T12:35:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-15T14:35:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-14T08:22:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-11T13:35:00.001-06:00

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 . . .

2011-11-10T19:25:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-09T16:26:00.001-06:00

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

2011-11-08T12:08:00.003-06:00

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

2011-11-07T15:18:00.002-06:00

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

2011-11-02T14:04:00.002-05:00

Sooner or later.

Yay books!

2011-10-29T12:48:00.000-05:00

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

It is hard to live deliberately.

2011-10-27T18:36:00.000-05:00

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

2011-10-27T09:04:00.000-05:00

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

2011-10-26T14:07:00.004-05:00

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

2011-10-25T12:34:00.002-05:00

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

2011-10-24T14:39:00.001-05:00

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.

2011-10-20T13:35:00.000-05:00

So.

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 32

2011-10-19T20:57:00.001-05:00

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

Monday Update, Getting Ready for the Pig Pickin Edition

2011-10-19T11:57:00.002-05:00

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

2011-10-17T14:42:00.000-05:00

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!"

2011-10-16T13:15:00.001-05:00

In which Piers needs his fall break

2011-10-14T16:49:00.000-05:00

pressure?? What pressure?

In which Piers tries not to roll his eyes

2011-10-13T10:01:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-12T14:05:00.000-05:00

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

2011-10-11T08:40:00.002-05:00

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

2011-10-10T10:19:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-05T08:09:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-04T14:23:00.006-05:00

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

2011-10-03T14:30:00.000-05:00

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

2011-09-30T15:02:00.000-05:00

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

A moment of self-reflection

2011-09-30T10:11:00.002-05:00

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

2011-09-28T08:25:00.001-05:00

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.

2011-09-26T10:30:00.002-05:00

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

2011-09-24T21:21:00.001-05:00

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

In which Piers prepares a speech

2011-09-23T12:44:00.000-05:00

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

2011-09-22T16:28:00.004-05:00

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

2011-09-21T08:16:00.002-05:00

This put a lump in my throat.

Some make a question,

2011-09-20T13:53:00.000-05:00

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

2011-09-19T15:07:00.003-05:00

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

2011-09-18T15:49:00.002-05:00

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

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

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

In which Piers takes his annual eastward pilgrimage

2011-09-14T09:58:00.001-05:00

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.

2011-09-13T09:11:00.000-05:00

"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!

2011-09-11T09:56:00.000-05:00

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

2011-09-09T20:39:00.001-05:00

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

2011-09-08T11:20:00.000-05:00

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.

2011-09-07T21:52:00.002-05:00

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

2011-09-06T12:11:00.002-05:00

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

2011-09-05T16:39:00.001-05:00

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.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 35

2011-09-02T15:45:00.001-05:00

I read a lot of student writing; I see a lot of student handwriting. I know that many students develop their own style of script--some in cursive, most in an amalgam of print and cursive. I am familiar with the tight, crabbed style that many college age men use. I'm pretty good at interpreting even the messiest of manuscripts. But every once in a while, I get handwriting that just gives me a headache even to look at it.

I mean, seriously?

Adventures in Parenting, vol. 31

2011-09-02T10:09:00.001-05:00

I had to help Little Red settle down. It worked all too well.

What is it about the parental bed?

Sonnet 76

2011-09-01T13:02:00.001-05:00

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why, with the time, do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent;
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love, still telling what is told.

--Wm. Shakespere

In which Piers gets something new

2011-08-31T15:44:00.003-05:00

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 30

2011-08-30T19:45:00.004-05:00

At about 2:00 today, I got a phone call from the director of the day care. She informed me that Little Red had vomited two times and was feeling pretty crummy. Clearly, he needed to be picked up. The Runner was at that point having a meeting with a client--in Dresden. I was sitting in my office, with only my bike to serve as transportation. So, I packed up in haste, rode home as fast as I could on my retro bike, hopped in the car, drove to the day care, and expectantly entered Little Red's classroom. In response to some quizzical looks, I said I was there to pick Little Red up because he had vomited twice. More quizzical looks. I see Little Red walking toward me with his face all red from crying, and I bend down to hug him, upon which Miss A, his teacher, says he was just mad because she'd told him to go to the potty before he went outside to the playground.

And the vomiting? That was one of Little Red's classmates, Thomas. The phone call was a false alarm. So there I was, at 2:30, with Little Red feeling perfectly fine (if a little sad). I had to bring him home after going in there and hugging him, though. So we came home and had snack and a Popsicle and played Angry Birds on the iPod.

The folks at the day care were most embarrassed. We assured them that it was no big deal. I'm just glad he didn't bring home some vomiting bug. Er, so far.

Monday Update, Arid Edition

2011-08-29T14:32:00.004-05:00

small town life.

Another weekend of yard work: trimming back some overgrown hedges, weeding some of the flowerbeds, planting some mums, pulling up the roses that had more or less given up on us. Also, more neglecting the garden, which has been a major disappointment this year. We can't water it enough to make it grow stuff, so we're hoping that we can make a fall/winter harvest of greens--i.e. spinach and kale. No rain, which makes for crispy grass.

Sunday mishap: we got all ready for church, each of us freshly scrubbed and respectable looking. Then we drove over to the church to find most people in shorts, getting lawn chairs out of their cars. Oh, that's right, I thought, it's that special Sunday that they kept mentioning and that I never understood what was going on. Outdoor worship. Cookout. We turned around and went home. There's bound to be a newsletter or something we can subscribe to.

Sunday mishap #2: Little Red found out the hard way that a hot iron is hot. Poor guy just likes to touch things to find out what they're like. He went to sleep with an ice pack on his hand, held there by a tube sock.

Great news I just found out: the principal at Number One Son's school (MPS) is allegedly planning to retire at the end of this school year. Let us pray that her pension holds out so that she will. This year seems crucial for Number One Son . . . he needs to be put in as much advanced programming as they can offer, but frankly, they're not all that accustomed to having intelligent kids. Fortunately, we have a double-secret ally that may help us get some results.

Hitting my stride for the semester: last week I lost my voice on Wednesday and felt sick as a dog. Then there was a late afternoon/evening meeting on Thursday. I wandered around in a weary haze. Need to do better this week, and hopefully in a couple of days I'll find that I've built up my stamina to the demands of a full term.

The Runner listens: people talk. She hears an awful lot of pretty awful stuff, and has the sense to keep her opinions to herself. Good for her.

Aventures in Parenting, Vol. 29

2011-08-26T15:54:00.000-05:00

The following was Number One Son's schedule this past week:

Monday: School. SMACK (church kids' choir).
Tuesday: School. SMACK.
Wednesday: School. Little Ninjas.
Thursday: School. Soccer practice.
Friday: PIZZA & MOVIE NIGHT FTW

Looking ahead, it appears that the average week will include at least one activity each afternoon/evening Monday - Thursday. I wonder if perhaps that's too much for a 6-year-old. Granted, the Tuesday afternoon activity is directly after school until 5 (when he would otherwise be at the after-school program at the day care), and the other days are one-hour sports activities in the late afternoon, but I don't want us to be living in our van and eating in shifts every night of the week. Especially when we get two boys going on these things (Little Red will start some of these things next summer).

How much counts as enrichment, and how much is just robbing them of the unstructured play The Runner and I so strongly believe in?

Corn Dust

2011-08-25T16:15:00.002-05:00

As this first week of class arrived, I began to feel like I had a tickle in the throat (uh oh . . . ), then a bit of a sniffle (daaaangit), then a full-fledged catarrh (aw for heaven's sake). And then it struck me: around this time every year, I start having to add Nasonex to my drug regime so that I can counter an allergy flare-up caused by . . . the drying-up corn & all the dust/mold/etc that it's releasing as it gets harvested. It takes a couple of days (and yesterday I lost my voice in the second of my three classes), but once I get the dosage caught up, things improve.

The Youngest had been having some "walking pneumonia," so I'm glad it wasn't that.

I don't have time to be sick this time of year . . . September and October are extraordinarily busy months, culminating in the pig pickin (less than two months away!)

Nosce Teipsum

2011-08-24T08:46:00.000-05:00

From Lifehacker: Why You Can't Truly Know Other People (and What You Can Do About It)

It's no secret that we present different versions of ourselves to different people, but we also think we can see through everyone else's versioning system. Somehow we believe ours is impenetrable yet the rest of the world can be read like a book. As David McRaney, author of You Are Not So Smart, points out, carrying on this way is delusional, yet we all do it. Here's why.
The versions of yourself that you present and other present to you are simple and easy to understand. It isn't difficult to for someone to believe that they know you when who you are is a presented set of simplified traits. It's also why people seem easy to read. In reality, who you truly believe you are and who others believe themselves to be is generally internalized and imperceptible to others:

[R]esearchers asked people to describe a time when they feel most like themselves. Most subjects, 78 percent, described something internal and unobservable like the feeling of seeing their child excel or the rush of applause after playing for an audience. When asked to describe when they believed friends or relatives were most illustrative of their personalities, they described internal feelings only 28 percent of the time. Instead, they tended to describe actions. Tom is most like Tom when he is telling a dirty joke. Jill is most like Jill when she is rock climbing. You can't see internal states of others, so you generally don't use those states to describe their personalities.

This phenomeon—what psychologists call the illusion of asymmetric insight—creates a lot of problems. For instance, it allows you to completely reject what others believe because you think you understand it, and remain convinced that they'd agree with you if only they understood your point of view. Basically, you think you can understand everyone else and nobody can understand you. It gets even worse in groups. If you need an example, take a look at politics.

In reality, nobody's really right or wrong. We're never going to be able to paint a full picture of ourselves even if we're completely honest. Because much of who we are is internalized, we'll always project an incomplete version of who we are. When we look at other people, however, we have to remember that they're doing the same thing. It's easy to argue and disagree with what we see, hear, and observe, but the full truth is often often beyond our reach. Next time you disagree with another person or group, remember that you probably don't truly know and understand their point of view. You may agree on more than you're able to perceive.

What is there worth doing that doesn't ask all I have?

2011-08-23T15:26:00.000-05:00

Monday Update, "Engage" Edition

2011-08-22T11:43:00.000-05:00

It is with a sigh of relief that we settle into the schedule that we'll maintain for the next several months. Even yesterday, The Runner admitted that she felt like things are more in hand now than they were even a couple of weeks ago. We spent most of Saturday doing yard work. The Runner dug up, divided, and transplanted some overly large hostas, etc. Fortunately, she enjoys such things.

It has been difficult to refrain from bragging on Number One Son.

The Youngest is suffering from a pulmonary infection at the moment . . . he had a hard weekend, which means he let The Runner have a full dose of the crankies.

Little Red is just Little Red. Famous among students across this campus.

The meetings this past week have highlighted what I've thought for a while: higher ed both in this state and in the country is going through a transitional period; priorities and methods are changing whether we want them to or not, and we haven't yet caught up to the new demands. I have reasonable faith in the administrative leadership of this campus (or at least most of it). I do not have as much faith in the leadership provided by El Presidente (my moniker for this year's faculty senate president).

Attending that many meetings saps my energy like nothing else.

The renovation of the classroom space in our building is allegedly complete, apart from the fixing of the few problems that are sure to surface over the course of the next few weeks. I like having better lighting and better desks for the students . . . I'm not as thrilled about the changed configurations of some of the classrooms. I'll adjust, though. I think it's just part of my teaching "style" that the setup of the room makes a big difference.

I'm enjoying a watch-through of Star Trek: The Next Generation, thanks to Netflix (which explains the picture above). The Runner is surprisingly receptive, for which I'm grateful.

"Cheer and tune my heartless breast"

2011-08-21T16:03:00.004-05:00

We all have trouble. Such a banal statement.

When things go wrong, or when things fail to go according to plan, there is no real reason to be ashamed and abashed, really. It comes to each of us, given enough time. And even when/if it's a result of our own choices--so much the more reason for mercy. So many who profess religious belief think that the point is the moral code. But even a cursory reading of Romans, for instance, suggests that the moral code isn't the point at all, is it? For who is able to live up to even his or her own professions of right and wrong, wise and foolish? Don't we all end up falling well short?

How can anyone who sees himself aright stand in judgment of anyone else? "who should escape whipping?" Hamlet asks.

That's why everyone needs to know that there are open arms, no matter what misfortune or foolishness we fall prey to. Because we all do, don't we?

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 28

2011-08-19T09:32:00.001-05:00

Yes, this goon is apparently the smartest first-grader at MPS

The First Grade Open House was last night. The Runner went while I stayed at home with the children.

According to Number One Son's teacher, he is the smartest child in first grade--by a long shot. By one metric (and I'm not going to go on about this ad nauseum), first graders should be at 1 or 2 on a measure of reading ability. He is at 23. I don't know what the numbers actually mean, but the difference is instructive.

Everyone knows about him, apparently. His teacher, Ms. M, says that she has had to correct him a couple of times when he has been sprawled out on the carpet--"because he's bored," she explained. He has acted like school is boring these first couple of weeks (they are reviewing Kindergarten stuff). They have tagged him for the gifted program, but even by Ms. M's admission, that's not going to be super-substantial. In other words, it's up to The Runner and me to decide how to push him enough, how to advocate for him, and how to allow him a proper childhood.

Talk about an awesome, humbling responsibility. And yes, I'm a little proud.

In which Piers writes something serious

2011-08-18T13:46:00.001-05:00

This is also lengthy. Pardon.

The disturbing thing about the meeting the other day, when I get down below the gut-level disagreement and discomfort with the tone set by El Presidente, is more abstract and ultimately more significant and far reaching. The entire session was marked by one of the most basic problems I see even in my English Composition classes, and I am distressed that I didn't see better performance--better thinking--from my highly educated and credentialed colleagues: there was a whole ton of assertion, and almost no actual argument.

I won't even go into the issues I have with the document that dominated most of our discussion, though it also exhibits the problem I identified above. There are good things and silly things in that document, as is the case with any committee-created manifesto.

But when it came to three discussions--one revolving around firearm legislation that will be revisited this year, and the other two about changing funding formulas to which we as an institution are answerable--I heard a remarkable lack of reflection or even curiosity. In other words, I heard people interested in winning a battle rather than understanding what is true.

Example 1: One of my colleagues opined quite loudly that the new funding formula will eventually be applied in such a way that university programs will be evaluated based on the income levels of their graduates. And that certain departments (including his own) will eventually be stripped of funding as a result. I don't know all the ins and outs of university funding, but perhaps he might have considered that this is the third funding formula that the state has used in the six years I have been at this institution (and he's been here for decades)? And perhaps there should be a level of accountability if we wish to use state funds? Perhaps it's not a terrible thing if a department has to make its case for its own significance? I don't know.

Example 2: Several colleagues expressed the fear that if guns are "allowed" on university campuses, "people are going to be shot." Now, I don't have all the information, but the following might be questions we would want to answer before we proclaim that there will be Fallujah-style running gun battles in our hallways:

To whom would the legislation apply? Permit holding faculty & staff? Students? Everyone?
How frequently do permit-holding gun owners pull handguns on other people, or shoot them, or even attempt crimes with their legally-owned weapons?
Is there a mechanism in place to stop a student or employee from carrying an illegally-held concealed weapon into class or into a faculty office? What is that mechanism?
What is the ratio of firearm-related crimes when legal and illegal holders are compared to each other?
Is it possible that administration and campus safety oppose the initiative because it makes their lives simpler from a bureaucratic/institutional standpoint (which may be enough reason to oppose the initiatve) rather than a safety standpoint?
Is it in fact true (as is often claimed) that in a standoff situation, a law-enforcement officer would be unable to tell who was the aggressor and who was the law-abiding citizen acting in self-defense?

I do not know answers to these questions, but I'll bet those answers can be discovered. These are the kinds of things that need to be investigated if one is going to make anything more valid than an emotional pronouncement. We may find guns and gun-holders to be icky, which is fair, but that's not the same as an argument against proposed legislation.

Example 3: there will be a lot of discussion this year about the "Responsibility" of the state to "Fund Higher Education." Apparently, the way this will be approached is by attempting to bully the state legislature into doing what they "should do." You'll note that there is no argument being made here, nor is there a sense (and this was addressed by a colleague during the meeting) that in order to put more money toward the university, money is going to have to be taken from somewhere else. Let's not even address the thornier problem of whether or not the "traditional" four-years-directly-out-of-high-school model actually applies

I don't know answers to tough questions like these. It seems that some of my (usually quite vocal) colleagues, however, are so sure that they do know the answers that they fail to recognize the importance of making the argument. They are sure that anybody with half a brain thinks as they do. This set of ideological blinders is one of the most unattractive, even destructive, features of academic life.

In which Piers wonders if he has landed in the Twilight Zone

2011-08-16T20:10:00.000-05:00

Today's meeting was a surreal experience. I don't know when I've been so dumbfounded. I can't say more, because I don't want to get myself in trouble (I know, I know . . . hasn't stopped me before . . . ); I was utterly disheartened when I walked back to my office. Still wondering what hit me.

Monday Update, Nose to the Grindstone Edition

2011-08-15T19:56:00.005-05:00

One week of first grade down . . . only several dozen more to go. So far, there's not much in the way of intellectual challenge: the sight words he is supposed to practice this week include I, can, we, like, see, the, go, to, have, a, play, white, orange, yellow, and green. This week's math review includes practicing counting objects to 10 (The Runner had him use strawberry frosted mini-wheats) and using words like more, fewer, less than, greater than. Needless to say, his major concern is not exactly the homework. It's more about how his friends are acting . . . he doesn't have any friends from last year in his current classroom.

We made a quick trip to Nashville over the weekend. I spent all day Saturday in the Brentwood Public Library, grading papers and figuring final grades for my summer session. The boys swam, went shopping, generally ran amok with their cousin DTE.

Speaking of grades, I had to give a "B" as the class grade to the student who'd been applying all that pressure. In his mind, he was going to be able to counteract the failing grade in Math with an "A" in his English class, and thereby stay in school for another semester. Today, after the posting of the grades, I got a series of panicked emails, the last of which said he just couldn't go on without understanding what he did wrong to fail out of college. I resisted the temptation to retort, "you want to know why you flunked out? It is because you FAILED the developmental/remedial math course THREE STRAIGHT TIMES!!"

I have meetings to attend all this week--was in meetings from 7:30 to 3:30 today. Classes start next Monday. At some point, I should probably get things like syllabuses together. I'm swamped.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 34

2011-08-13T10:25:00.000-05:00

With the end of the term comes the grading of exams and papers and portfolios, wherein I attempt to gauge each student's gained knowledge. Sometimes it is not so easy. As Exhibit "A," herewith a partial list of misspelled words in the exam I am currently grading:

"castal" (castle)
"destoryed" (destroyed)
"mirrow" (mirror)
"shas" (sash)
"threw out" (throughout)
"is" (his)
"bannishing" (banishing)
"unperdictuple" (unpredictable)

August Angst

2011-08-12T13:27:00.001-05:00

The Runner astutely observes that I get very anxious this time every year.

You'd think after teaching for 10 years (!) I would have gotten over that.

In the immediate future, i.e., this weekend, I have about a zillion things to do. One step at a time, right?

hup! hup!

2011-08-11T15:33:00.003-05:00

Today, while I was dealing with my classes, and student conferences, and so on, the department had its annual "retreat" (which is this institution's code word for "really long meeting") . . . and now the suite is buzzing, minus one of my favorite colleagues, who moved to a different institution over the summer. Lots of heat being generated . . . not sure about the amount of light.

Sigh.

The gauntlet of meetings starts at 7:30 on Monday morning.

In other words, time is catching up. Better start pedaling a bit faster.

ADDED: I just realized that I said essentially the same thing that I did yesterday. Guess that shows what's on my mind, huh. Either that, or I'm scatterbrained. Maybe both.

In which Piers realizes that time flies

2011-08-10T20:31:00.000-05:00

Two days from the end of this summer term, and I've taken care of most of the class stuff--but then there's the rest of it that I've barely touched. The office suite was full of returning colleagues today, many back in the office for a workshop on some electronic writing textbook stuff. I should not be frustrated with my lack of "progress" in other areas, seeing as I've made the best of some pretty rough circumstances at the office (constant jackhammer-style noises from construction, for instance). I just wish I felt more prepared for the large tasks awaiting me starting on Monday.

In which Piers ponders codes of behavior

2011-08-09T15:09:00.002-05:00

I have a student I will call "Mr. Hat," because he wears a hat, and because by doing so I can protect his privacy. He is taking summer classes. One of them is our "Math 080," the "developmental" math class. This is his third time to take the course, and for the third time he is failing it by a long shot. Mr. Hat has complained to me ad nauseum about his performance in the course and how it's putting his college career in jeopardy. I have repeatedly exhorted him to do whatever it takes to pass that class--go to the math lab, impose a Facebook blackout, etc. He has taken none of my advice, and his results have been such that he is now giving up on passing the math class (there are only three days left in this term). His solution? He needs to get an A in my class.

Do you see what happened? Because he has refused at every step to take responsibility for his own actions, he is left with "no option" but to "hope" that he makes an "A" in my class. If I give him the A, there's a possibility that he can come back next term. If he fails to earn an A, or if I don't "give" him one, then the hammer has fallen and his academic career is in ruins and he won't be able to provide for a family and so he won't be able to marry his girlfriend as soon as he'd like, etc., etc., etc. All because I didn't see fit to give him an A (which isn't a grade I give out very often).

For pete's sake. I try--oh, I try. I give every student the benefit of the doubt. I work as hard as I can to offer counsel, support, and encouragement. I live by a code of being the best I can be, of never resting on what I've done, and of showing others respect & kindness. I examine my life constantly to see if I'm on the right path.

I expect that others will do the same. But here's the thing: there are plenty of those others who won't. They will take what I can give, and then take some more, and then take some more, and then, when the reservoir is empty, when I can do no more, I become the one who let them down. It's the curse of being the good guy: when you dare to assert that you too have needs, it's like the roof is caving in or something.

...can you tell that today's been kinda crappy?

Monday Update, First Day of First Grade Edition

2011-08-08T13:32:00.003-05:00

What we spent the weekend doing: whatever Number One Son wanted. That put us in Paducah at Ya-Ya's Island, and at Noble Park, and then eating dinner at Pizza Inn. The good thing is that a pizza buffet is an awfully easy way to satisfy three little boys.

With the start of the school year comes The Runner's return to her usual schedule. Most importantly, that means she's back to running with the two little ones. There has been some added tension in town since an attempted attack on a runner last weekend, but she's strong and smart. I mean STRONG--that double jogger with Little Red and The Youngest One weighs a ton.

Speaking of the regular schedule, Number One Son was back at Little Ninjas last week. The building they are in has really weak a/c, so on a week when we had temps topping 100, it was an oven in there. The martial arts thing is making us wonder about the usual soccer season: is it prudent to have him do both? I'm interested in him sticking with the martial arts; The Runner would rather him focus on some team sports. . . how much driving around are we willing to do, seeing as he'll also have church activities two afternoon/evenings per week?

First day of first grade. He was completely hyper last night, and up before we were this morning.

The Runner watched the older two boys in the yard yesterday and commented: "Little Red is going to be so lost tomorrow." I'll be interested to see how it has gone today.

I have had the pleasure of dealing with some surprisingly bright students this summer. I've also had the pleasure of dealing with some extraordinarily difficult ones. The Runner has reminded me, bless her, that I can't help everyone.

Another pleasure at work: they have been drilling so loudly that it is hard to think. They went from 7:30 - 3:30 on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday last week. I may be weak-minded or something, but I find it almost impossible to accomplish anything in a situation like this.

I got another one of my long-wished-for objects this past week: A Namiki Falcon fountain pen, unique in modern pen construction because of its flexible nib (it's possible to find more flexible nibs if you special order or buy vintage).

Adventures with Students, vol. 33

2011-08-04T12:31:00.001-05:00

There is an upside to teaching the way I do--i.e., in a sort of manic, freewheeling, free-associating sort of way. Most students seem to respond well to the amount of energy I'm pouring into the class, which is especially important when "selling" writers and ideas that they've been tortured with/turned off from. A common response is, "I thought English would be boring! But it's not!" So I chase rabbits, make slightly off-color jokes from time to time, tell stories about my cats and my children (and occasionally The Runner), and generally perform. All the while, I try to take seriously every student comment and question, and am happy to stop mid-stride to deal with an upraised hand.

Like I've said, most students respond well to this style. Some, however, take it as license to say whatever they wish. This is particularly troublesome when the license-taking student is either dumb as a stick, or unable to filter between brain and mouth. I've had both kinds this summer. Yesterday, for instance, I had to warn the men in the class (the difficult ones are both men) to not respond out loud to what I was saying, because "the ladies in here will absolutely kick your ass. And you'll deserve it." It worked, because it came off as a joke. The thing is, after a certain number of stupid/silly/gauche questions or comments, I'm at my wit's end to figure out how to shut them up politely. Most people are self-policing at least to a certain extent; frankly, a lot of times we rely on everybody sort of agreeing that they can go so far but no farther. If the agreement breaks down, the class is that much harder to manage.

I try to keep my rebukes relatively jocular, which seems to be working okay for now. The other option is to teach in a way that seems to close off honest responses. I don't want to do that.

Monday Update, Tenured Edition

2011-08-01T15:01:00.002-05:00

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."

That's right: today it's official. I'm now a tenured associate professor of English. Whoa! Step back! I'm pretty hot, huh? I'm accepting congratulatory gifts, etc.

The story of the past week has actually been "Fluffernutter," the little grey and white kitten The Runner rescued middle of last week. We enjoyed having her inside with us (kittens are a laugh-a-minute, which is how they trick us into keeping them when they become cats)--that is, until she started leaving little presents under the bunk beds and behind the TV. And then The Runner started having some real allergy problems. Fluffernutter is now an outdoor kitty. . . and she's not too fond of being out there. Simon the Watermelon Kitty isn't fond of it either. Everybody is just going to have to adjust.

As I sit here in my office, the noise of a drill is reverberating through the suite and through my skull. It has gone on all day. Between noise like this and the effective closing of the library, it has been next to impossible to get any work done around here. Am I happy about this? No, I am not.

An interesting moment from the weekend: I caught Number One Son trying to deceive Little Red by essentially lying to him about what he was doing. As he did it right in front of me, I was obligated to beckon to him and shake my head, and growl, "you're not going to lie to him." Number One Son then went to pieces, saying that he was the worst kid in the house. I called him over and had him sit in my lap* while I explained to him that I wasn't saying he was a bad kid--just that he didn't need to lie to his brother . . . that reminding him of what he should & shouldn't do isn't the same as telling him he's good or bad.
(*note: having Number One Son sit in one's lap is more or less like holding a board. Not cuddly.)

Speaking of Number One Son, it was related to The Runner yesterday that he was the topic of conversation among some people at our church, and the report was that "he was by far the smartest child in all of kindergarten last year." I wish he would read more, but I'm guessing that I'm not going to put that pressure on him. He's only in first grade, after all.

This is the last week of summer schedule for the children. The Runner rejoiceth.

So much depends on what you're expecting

2011-07-27T07:52:00.004-05:00

You adopt kitty thinking this:

You end up with this:

Adventures in Parenting, vol. 27

2011-07-26T10:33:00.002-05:00

Yeah, she was about this impressed.

Yesterday, as The Runner is applying a bit of pressure on Number One Son to actually pick up the play-doh from the carpet:

The Runner: "Come in here please."
Number One Son: "uuugghhhh what is it now??"
The Runner: "excuhyooose me??"

me: shaking my head. Son, you never want to hear that phrase from a woman.