Eastward

my annual pilgrimage to Wise awaits.

Provide, Provide

The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag,
Was once the beauty Abishag,

The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood.

Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state.

Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone.

Some have relied on what they knew;
Others on simply being true.
What worked for them might work for you.

No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard,
Or keeps the end from being hard.

Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide!

--Robert Frost (1936)

Doing Work

He's seen me do it so much that he's decided he wants a turn. The Little Boy has started getting on the computer to do work. Tonight he got his mom to open up the iBook, whereupon he typed the following words (given some prompting, but no help, in sounding them out):

Jonathan (he knows this one automatically)
cat
dog
hat
bat
frog
bed
raft

Design

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.

--Robt. Frost (1936)

*blam*

Recent statements heard from the mouth of The Little Boy:

"Mommy, does Daddy live at work?"

and

"Daddy, I want you to smile."

I hope he put the second team in

went to a football game last night, stayed until around 8:00, at halftime. Had to put Little Boys to bed, y'know.

The score at that point was 49-7.

The final score of the game: 87-21.

I'm guessing the brave gentlemen from Concordia College were a bit overmatched.

I try not to think too much about this. . .

. . . because I don't know what to make of it.

Last week, the search committee I am on, tasked with hiring a professor of African-American literature, met with a High Ranking Official from the Office of Equity and Diversity at my institution. Over the course of the conversation (which was about four times as long as it should have been, given the content of what was said as opposed to the verbiage with which it was expressed), this little nugget came out (not verbatim, but the best I can remember):

"I'm against discrimination, but I gotta say that I hope you bring an African-American candidate forward for hiring. Because if you don't, I don't know that the hire will be approved."

er...

You're not as clever as you think you are

Scene: composition classroom. Draft workshop.

Student in the back of the room has finished her review (and has worked hard, no complaint there). She moves to the very back seat, ostensibly blocked from my view by another student, and begins texting furiously, but furtively.

I look straight at her and smirk. She tries the poker face. I'm not buying it, and we both know it.

Awesome.

This is not the way to begin a Monday Morning.

At the main intersection of town, while trying to stop for the red light, to fall off your bike because you're clipped into the pedals and you can't get your left foot out in time, looking like a toppling gear-laden tree. Oh the shaaaame, the shaaaaaaaame! heh.

Six Months

picture taken by Big Brother:
















Lion thanks to Hambone:

Soybean 5K

Third place overall in the women's 30-39 yo division! The legend grows (literally).

In which Piers looks for an escape hatch

Yesterday afternoon, after doing a guest 'lecture' on The Tempest, I was sitting in my office recovering, minding my own business, when a large man shows up at my door. He asks to come in, says he wants to talk with me and get my opinion about something. Warily, I invite him in. He proceeds to take out a notebook and show me a 'poem' he wrote about communication. I make out over the course of our conversation that he's a returning student, probably at least 10-15 years older than myself, and that he's got a lot of complaints about "kids these days." After trying to offer what constructive criticism I could on the poem, I attempted to engage the communication issue by relating how many of my students lack the knowledge of the Bible and Classical writers that my material presupposes. All of a sudden, he breaks into Hamlet's soliloquy from 1.2:

O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God, God,
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!

...and so on. He keeps going, and going, even using a faux accent, and then regales me with the story of how he learned it back when he was in college in the 70's or whenever it was.

(Blackbuzzard and Hambone, you can imagine the expression on my face at this point.)

Now he wants to visit my Shakespeare class and do a performance. Time expands sometimes, and usually at the wrong times. I don't know exactly how long he was sitting in my office, but it felt like half a day.

Almost Mobile

Funny Pictures

The Modern Labors of Hercules. Click through--you won't regret it.

Tell me I don't have to answer this question.

from my British Lit. survey, a question about Beowulf:

The story didn't really make this clear, or either we just didn't read this part. But why wasn't it clear that the dragon was somewhat his child, or was that his child?

damn movie.

The Big Three

This article today brings something to the forefront that's been rumbling around in my mind:

1. Teaching: check.

2. Service: check, and check, and check, and check.

3. Research: *crickets*

Bean Parade!

Bands, Horses, John Deeres, Cheerleaders, Fire engines . . .

Little Boys:














Sleepy Babies:














He thinks he's The Stuff:














Advertising the Strawerry Festival at the Soyean Festival:

Photographic Art From the Little Boy

"My Toys"

crossroads of goood livin'

Soybean Festival starts tonight, with a parade! Needless to say, The Little Boy is most excited.

Labor omnia vicit improbus

So. We tackled the shambles that was our residence. Victory was hard-won, but we prevailed. There are still mopping-up operations in progress, but at least we've gotten a reasonable facsimile of normal.

I do not recommend a major overhaul during the first week of classes.

Huswifery

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

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

Word on the Street

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

I don't plan to, it just happens.

The Sun Rising.

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

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

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

Introductions, 2012 style

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

Well, this isn't an auspicious beginning

From a student essay:

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

Successes

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

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

My brother unloaded a major albatross.

#79

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

--Sidney, Astrophil & Stella

Another Big Day

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

First Day

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

Church Photos

"Little Boy, can you smile?"

*scowl*

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

*scowl*

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

*scowl*

"How about if you just say cheese?"

*scowl*

The Lover & the Beloved

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

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

How big a geek?

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

Taking Stock: Comments

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

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

3. Redneck + Pickup + Rain: bad combination.

4. I am thrilled about Monday.

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

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

I read this with much interest

In praise of Melancholy.

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

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

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

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

solace, partner, treasure

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

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

--Lyly, Euphues (1578)

Delight

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

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

Balm

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

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

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

Ooooh, envy

This is an indication of something

. . . if only I knew what:

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

Misused word of the day

"RETREAT."

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

Marginalia

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

***

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

***

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

--Auden, 1965-68

Loxosceles reclusa

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

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

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

Take a Deep Breath

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

* * *

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

(Auden, 1963-64)

Self-Conscious

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

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

Taking Stock: Why didn't they tell us?

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

Taking Stock: Pleasures

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

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

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

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

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

Taking Stock: Hitting "Play"

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

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

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

Taking Stock: What Lies Within

George Herbert

AFFLICTION. (IV)

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

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

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

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

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

dirty words

church committee meeting.

hey! wash your mouth out!

What the!?!?

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

. . . a guy on a Scott S50.

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

Taking Stock: A Tribute

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

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

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

Frieze!

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

Greek Friezes, reenacted & photographed.

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

I want to see this!

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

Burn After Reading

In homage to one of my earliest intellectual heroes

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, RIP.

Live not by Lies. (1974)

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

From Guazzo's "Civil Conversation"

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

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

We have a five month old

Just for the fun of comparison:

Um, am I speaking to a human?

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

Or maybe it was Asimo!

Personnel

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

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

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

Most Awesomest Blog Commenter Ever

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

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

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

I wish I had even a dram of that wit.

Weather at the lunch table

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

We're Ready

It's August, which means several things:

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

(guess which we're most excited about)

Announcement.

Compline

Now, as desire and the things desired
Cease to require attention,
As, seizing its chance, the body escapes,
Section by section, to join
Plants in their chaster peace which is more
To its real taste, now a day is its past,
Its last deed and feeling in, should come
The instant of recollection
When the whole thing makes sense: it comes, but all
I recall are doors banging,
Two housewives scolding, an old man gobbling,
A child's wild look of envy,
Actions, words, that could fit any tale,
And I fail to see either plot
Or meaning; I cannot remember
A thing between noon and three.

from "Horae Canonicae," W. H. Auden

Terce

Sprites of hearth and store-room, godlings
Of professional mysteries, the Big Ones
Who can annihilate a city
Cannot be bothered with this moment: we are left,
Each to his secret cult. Now each of us
Prays to an image of his image of himself:
"Let me get through this coming day
Without a dressing down from a superior,
Being worsted in a repartee,
Or behaving like an ass in front of the girls;
Let something exciting happen,
Let me find a lucky coin on a sidewalk,
Let me hear a new funny story."

--from "Horae Canonicae," W. H. Auden

The Bears' Picnic

performed by The Little Boy. No, he's not reading it for real . . . more like reciting it. Excuse the sound effects provided by little brother.

The Little Boy is a Photographer

Or at least he'd like to be.  Here's some of his recent output:

Hey, I know that cat!

Piers hanging his head

Argh. The more I study, even over the past week or so, the more and more ashamed I am of that document that earned me that degree. Ugh. How they let me out of there, given what I wrote, is beyond me.

It may be a mark of my habitual ways of thinking that I often look up at that document on the wall and think, "how have I matched up to that today?"--not satisfaction, but a cattle prod in the back.

For that matter, don't even get me started on my family.

Hmmmmmmm. Time to double up on the Zoloft? (j/k . . . nobody panic...if anyone's even reading this, which is highly unlikely)

Confession for Mid-July

My research program is a mess. An absolute mess. That is all.

A big day for the Two Boys

W is taking both--that's right, both--for a run today in the double baby jogger. For the first time. Oh, what a thrilling life we lead!

English Teacher Humor

Merged Books.

first item:

"Machiavelli’s The Little Prince" - Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s classic children’s tale as presented by Machiavelli. The whimsy of human nature is embodied in many delightful and intriguing characters, all of whom are executed.

Biking Item #2 for Today

from indexed:

Continental Ultra Sport

I guess the "Sport" is tire-maker code for "cheap piece of crap." I got home from my ride this morning only to find that the front tire has gone down again (this makes 3 times in the past 2 weeks). I know that flats are a cyclist's cross to bear, but for heaven's sake.

Time to spend $35 on a bike tire, I guess.

What that meant was that I rode the ol' Schwinn to school. That would be cool if it were indeed an old Schwinn. But this is a Schwinn I bought from Target a couple of years ago. It's fine, I guess, for riding across campus & stuff, but for my commute: ugh. And since I have it on good authority that there is some hilarity when my students see me on my regular bike, I can only imagine what they would think were they to see me on the one I rode today. Yow.

Time to spend $400 on a Townie, I guess!

Four Months

One was taken almost four years ago, one just the other day.

The Child is Loud

It's a Major Holiday!

Life With Two

Jr. Photography Edition. Below, pictures taken yesterday by The Little Boy:

It's Another Summer

Shirtless Little Boy: check.
Sea of grass: check.
Popsicle: check.

A new dad of our acquaintance

Mr. Phipps is now Papa Phipps!  Huzzah! 

We here in West Tennessee are glad that all three down in South Florida are doing well.

Hawks Rd

We have been in this house for three years now. Which makes it the longest we've lived in any single location. And we've done a lot of work to the place both inside and out, though you'd have to look hard to tell. And of course, there are a lot of things we said we'd do that we still haven't done anything about. I don't have a proper study, or anything resembling one, but that's really the only complaint. Well, that and the windowless kitchen. Below, a shot of the back yard, since I can't seem to locate a shot of the front.

Iron Sharpening Iron

Found out today that two of my esteemed colleagues, with whom I've worked on various projects, received tenure (cue angel chorus) this week. Both are enormously popular, both are prolific writers and good teachers. Three cheers for CB (my Seventy Sevens patron, incidentally) and LL!

A good reminder for me to keep my eye on that goal.

I'm singing, I'm singing

. . . cause I just got a copy of one of the greatest rock/pop records ever: The Seventy Sevens, Pray Naked. I've been looking for this thing for like ten years! Thanks to CB. It's as good as I remember. Better, actually.

They're making me feel old

Governor's school students. Sigh. I walk into class today, and one student is laying on the floor, while several others are making the "Jr. Birdman" face. One student is helpfully gesturing for me to do something to my chin. I'm like, "what the heck? Is there ink on my face? what's with the Jr. Birdmen?" Turns out it's a game where if someone makes that face at you when you're not touching your chin, you have to lay down on the floor. And they say, "And you have to play, because you're cool!"

My response: "I'm an english professor. My cool evaporated long ago."

And now it turns out that there's more than one game going on. I said something in class, and all of a sudden, in unison, the class does some kind of "vogue" thing where they make boxes around their faces. I tried to ferret out what I said to cause that straaaange reaction--they were unhelpful in that regard. Furthermore, there's still another mystery game going on that you lose if you think about, so you have to play it without thinking about it.

I did meekly lay down at the end of class when, as soon as I said, "get outta here," several Jr. Birdman faces were made at me. One student tried to snap a picture, but I was too fast for him. ha ha.

Sigh. I'm only 34, but already having a hard time keeping up.

Who said anything about a Honda Fit?

This just came across our campus 'swapshop' list. Hard to resist:

FOR SALE:
1984 Chevy Scottsdale
Color: Blue
Mileage: 59,700 (Actual miles)
Excellent Condition

Asking Price: $2,000.00 OBO

an old-school Chevy pickup! If only gas weren't $4.00 a gallon!

UPDATE: I've tried to convince folks that an El Camino would be a good idea, but no one wants to hear that.

Bike Route

Yes it is.

You never outgrow Legos

This may be one of the most awesome $400 toys ever: The Death Star!.

A long ride

. . . for me, that is. I realized an ambition of mine today: I rode from our house to my brother's house, a distance of about 28 miles. It was a great day for a ride: clear, warm, with an occasional cloud.

I know that in the 'roadie' world, a 28 mile ride is not that big of a deal, but still, it was fun to do something I'd been saying I want to do since last March.

Department of Unintended Consequences

The Little Boy has learned to operate all the lamps in the house. Consequence: this morning at 5:35, he decided it was time for our lights (i.e., the ones beside our bed) to be on. Good morning.

The Little Boy has learned our phone number and address, and has learned how to operate the telephone. Consequence: he now wants to answer the phone.

The Little Boy has heard me play The Who now and again. Consequence: when we got out from church last Sunday, we noticed a couple of spiders on the car. He proceeded to sing the chorus from this classic:



In case you're not up on this brand of classic rock, it's "Boris the Spider."

Budget "Crisis"

I understand that state budgets fluctuate.  But what chaps me is when I see that every non-academic department on this campus has multiple Gators, golf carts, etc., and that they're all being driven by folks who apparently aren't hauling a thing.  Just today I watched a couple of students cruising around in a Gator, and for the life of me I don't think they were actually doing anything other than cruising.  Our chancellor says we're all making sacrifices.  I'm happy to keep my computer for another year rather than have it replaced this summer.  But I wonder how much all those golf carts cost.  I'll believe we're in a real crisis when those who tell me it's a crisis start acting like it's a crisis.  Right now, it seems like a matter of chooosing to spend money in one place over another.

And get off my lawn!

Twelve Songs #VIII

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secrete, a private reason for this.

--W. H. Auden (1936)

Ah, Respect

One of the advantages of my position in the ivory tower is that I command reverence from my students.  For instance, walking down the hallway today, one of my students from last term hailed me by affectionately saying, 

"Hey freak!"

I'm just a-feelin' the love and admiration.

I may use some of these.

One of my favorite features in Watterson's old Calvin & Hobbes strip (still champion, imho) was when Calvin's dad started "explaining" the way things work. Here's an example:

Q. Why does ice float?
A. Because it's cold. Ice wants to get warm, so it goes to the top of liquids to be nearer to the sun.
Q. Is that true?
A. Look it up and find out.
Q. I should just look up stuff in the first place.

Link to some others.

Boys 2: Live!

Boys

Father's Day

I have two boys now. It's fun to say "the boys"--something nice about knowing that there's more than one, even if it's just a phrase. I spent a pretty good amount of time yesterday with The Little Boy, trying very hard to give him some time. There are many times I feel like I'm not being as good to my family as they need or deserve, but yesterday was a day to set that aside and enjoy.

W had a fantastic idea: she allowed The Little Boy to choose some gifts at Wal-Mart based on what I like. She asked him, "what does daddy like to do?" His response: He likes to work! So, a pen and pencil. He likes coffee! So, a green travel mug. He likes to mow grass! So, a package of foam earplugs. So each gift meant something pretty special.

And then she and he made a book: it's composed of pages that say things like "This is What I like to do with Daddy" with The Little Boy's picture of us wrestling. The last page is "What I love about you" and he told Weslee what to write: "Makes Biscuits." "Pulling weeds." "Mow grass together." "Takes me a bath." "Get popcorn together." "Brushes my teeth." "When he reads to me." Knocked me flat on my back, let me tell you.

W surprised me with an iPod Shuffle (my first iPod! Thrilling!)--but I'll let you guess which present made the greatest impression.

Thanks to Friends

Thanks to JMA and WA from Virginia, who came and spent a wonderful couple of days with us.  It was hot outside, but we still managed to eat well and catch up on recent doings.  They showed pictures of their most recent trip to England, including their visit to George Herbert's church at Bemerton (!)

Thanks to the Bosvath collective for sharing pictures of the new little one, and we hope the growth spurt ends soon, so the new mommy can have some relief! 

Thanks to Hambone and Blakbuzzard for continuing to check in, though their schedules are surely rough.

It's another summer weekend.  The Little Boy is out in the wading pool, W is sitting under the shade tree on our freshly painted swing, and I'm monitoring dinner and the Baby Boy.  It's been a good day.

huzzah! gear!

Got my new pedals today! Haven't put them on yet, and they aren't the super ultra deluxe kind, but still, new gear!!

I'm not glad to be right, but I was right.

From my inbox this morning:

I wanted to let you know that KV has taken a job in Boston and CC has decided to stay there as well. This means we need to find two term people fast. If you still have contacts at your graduate school please have them let people know. Or if you know of someone who might be interested, please have them contact me.

This was the couple we hired on faculty two years ago. I was surprised they stayed for a second year. Hopefully they'll like Boston better than West Tennessee. What are the chances, right? heh.

In other news, we'll be doing multiple searches this coming academic year. Joy!

Post 501, or "Pedantry."

I'm in the midst of revising documents for a student handbook for our first-year composition classes. The other editor and I have solicited revision requests from other instructors in the department. Well, if you're familiar with English professors in groups, you know that getting them to agree about which grammar, punctuation, syntax, and usage guidelines apply in any given context is like expecting Baptists not to fight. Won't happen. Anyway, here I sit, slaving my way through minutiae of punctuation, participle usage, parallel structure--and one of my colleagues, instead of providing a straightforward comment or revision, draws a circle on one part and notes: "see Maimon 407."

Oh, hell no. I'm not some 18-year-old that you can send scurrying to a grammar handbook.

*Grits teeth*
*Returns to typing*

Inauspicious

How to tell that you'd better tread lightly over the course of the workday:

1. Bike tire is soft, which means there's a slow leak
2. Chain comes off the chainring as you're heading down your street
3. You spill an entire mug of coffee all over the counter
4. It's blazing hot in your building

I'm just waiting for my bookshelves to cave in or something like that.