Aakk!

My qualifying exams are scheduled for the end of February.

That is a month away.

One month.

Before I take my test.

The test that determines whether or not I become a PhD candidate.

I get one more chance, if I fail this one. But just one.

And every day I wait is one day further away from the classes that I took.

Aakkk. Aarrg. Eeek!

Tables turned...

Today, I was sitting in a meeting, and there was a student standing outside the door, waiting. After the meeting was done, I nudged my friend and co-worker, since the student was obviously waiting for her. Turns out, it was her daughter, who looked so different that I hardly recognized her. She's in danger of being dropped from her classes because she missed last week because her two-year-old was in the hospital and she could not bring herself to leave his side.

It is rather startling to see a student in my university, if not my class, so starkly from her mother's point of view. Of course, I walked away and gave them their privacy, but not before I saw the concern on my friend's face. Concern for her daughter who, in being a good mom, seems to be in trouble as a student.

I have to wonder what is going on with my colleagues in other departments? This young woman is bright, a brilliant writer (although I won't link to her blog here, out of respect for her privacy). I had two children before I graduated with my BA. I don't know that I could have done that if I had not had wonderful, understanding professors. Professors who held my work to high standards, but were flexible about some deadlines. Professors who encouraged me to finish college, despite my choices. Professors who believed in me. I wish my friend's daughter such professors, although I am afraid she's not as fortunate.

I wish her luck. And I wish both her and her baby good health for the entirety of the semester.

Pleasant Weekend...

It has been relatively slow this weekend (so far). Both girls spent the night with friends last night, and W wasn't feeling well, so he was kind of quiet. My husband and I watched Frank Sinatra and Shirley McClain in Can-Can. Then we watched Holmes on Holmes.

Saturday was kind of laid back, too. W had quiz bowl, so T took him out early to catch the bus. They won, by the way. This has been W's week-- he placed second in his district in FBLA in network security. T and I hung out and watched A&E for a while. Then, of course, we had to start collecting the girls. Mea and I ran to Children's Place to pick up a gift certificate for my friend's twin girls' birthday. Then we stopped by Sally to pursue her quest for purple hair (a pretty purple-- not a blue).

We were planning to go grocery shopping this evening at Sam's Club, but the torrential rain kept us in. Instead, I am watching Caprica. Not sure how I feel about that, yet. I skipped the Battlestar Galactica revival, mostly out of respect for the original. I love the original Battlestar Galactica, which I almost completely missed in its original run, because we didn't the channel that it aired on. But love it I did. I watched it in reruns and on SciFi channel marathons. I feared the revival. Years later, The Prisoner was certainly a disappointment. I watched part of it, but found myself just not caring what happened.

Caprica, however, has no such baggage. It is set in the Battlestar Galactica universe, but is all backstory. As I said, I haven't yet decided an opinion. It lacks spaceships, but does appear to be on a different planet. A lot of the plot seems to revolve around a virtual reality Second Life kind of environment. But I am also seeing robots. Robots are good.

Steampunk Laptop

This beauty is from Datamancer. I am always amazed by what creative people can do when they decide to. Really, who ever would have thought of modding a computer to look be Steampunk?

Datamancer sells these gems either by special order or on ebay. The late, great Victoria magazine (I have not even looked at the recent revival) used to have a theme that women should follow their bliss-- do what makes them happy. They would profile women who were making a living (or at least an income) owning businesses where they sold things or services that they believed in. Small runs and special orders were, of course, most common. But what makes these business special are that they are created by someone who loves them. The owners love the products and (generally) love their customers.

I can see Datamancer fitting right in.



(And for my friend the typewriter fanatic, Datamancer also makes keyboards.)

Meme Oddness

The Internets are a strange place, indeed. Here a a couple of sites that prove that beyond doubt:

• Internet Meme Timeline
• Know Your Meme

I'm not referring to memes in the sense of "List 25 Random Facts About Yourself" but rather in the Dawkins sense of "Bits of Culture," kind of like genes are bits of life.

The month that I am a gardener...

Some days, I channel my late grandmother. When this becomes painfully apparent is when seed catalogs come in. Burgess is the first one to hit my mailbox this season. I have about $70 worth of plants picked out, but see that it has a lousy reputation. Who knew seed companies had ratings?

I think, though, somewhere I'll order some Apache Blackberries. They are thornless, and goodness knows, I like to be able to pick blackberries in the summer. I prefer, though, to skip the ticks, chiggers, snakes, and thorns, if I can. So maybe I'll plant me one of these in my back yard. Unfortunately, companies that actually send plants, charge more for them. So I am not sure how many I can afford. Now, I am seeing that all the catalogs we used to get: Henry Field, Gurney, Spring Hill and others were all bought by one company and don't send out high quality plants any more. The one that I wanted to order from, Burgess, seems to be less that 50% in sending out viable plants.

I guess I'll have to wait patiently, and shop local. But really, what does local mean? Wal-Mart? Home Depot? Lowe's? Those are hardly local. Plant Outlet is pricey but everything I've bought there lives... Decisions decisions...

I did fine one immediately useful thing today: Conway is in zone 7. I've never been able to read those stupid maps, because they don't list the counties. But this site told me. Now I am informed.

Last night

Last night, Mea got a phone call from a friend. They were chatting when he drove up to his driveway. At that point, she could hear the parents berating the young man (I'll call him "J.") The took his phone, demanded that he surrender his truck keys and they sent him out into the cold night.

His transgression? Texting his boyfriend.

Of course, after hearing this, she and I got into my aging van and starting trying to find him. She called her network of friends, and found out where he lived, and we headed that way. We pulled into a nice subdivision off Hwy 25 and drove til we saw his truck.

There we met his parents, who apparently realized what they had done. They were also driving around. They flagged us down (we had stopped outside their house) and told us a cock and bull story about him getting mad and running away. (They had told him to start walking and that he could just move in with whoever picked him up-- Mea heard J's mother screaming this). We said we'd call if we found him.

We drove around the likely places that he could walk to, then Mea got a text from another friend saying that he was with her.

Relieved, we bought some ice cream and came home.

But I can't stop worrying. Evidently, all is well today. He has his phone back, and probably his truck. But it was cold out last night.

And I am afraid that his home is a pretty cold place to be any day.