A lot has happened since I took an unplanned hiatus. My PhD program decided that my progress was not sufficient. So that ended in May 2015.
My mom got sicker. Her chemo quit holding the cancer at bay. She died on June 27, 2016. I'm still reeling. She and I were always close. I saw here every day when she was in the hospital and when she was in rehab. I was with her when she died.
My dad is struggling on. He found a new house just a couple of weeks after she died, which needed work. Miss O and I have spend a lot of time over there working on it-- painting walls, scraping wallpaper, shopping for new lights and fixtures.
Pretending we are okay.
I spend a lot of time pretending to be okay. I'm not, of course. I am not sure if/when I will be. My friend Steve tells me that I'll never stop missing her, never stop thinking, "Oh, I need to ask Mom..." He hasn't. And he's probably right.
Sunday, September 04, 2016
Wednesday, July 01, 2015
Ouch! That Hurt
"You need to get your ears pierced. You are the only one who doesn't."
"Dad won't let me."
"You are 18 years old. He can't stop you. Besides, he's not here." Dorothy was persuasive. And insistent.
"I don't know any where here that does it." We were in Panama City Beach, Florida. We were there on a school-wide senior trip. We, the 15 members of the senior class of Mt. Judea High School, had fund-raised all year to earn the money for that trip. Before the Internet and Yelp! we had rented some condos on the beach and traveled via school bus. "Condo" was actually used loosely by the marketing team. Two beds, one room and an extra sink,, mini-fridge and microwave does not typically mean "condo" to most people. But there we were, sleeping six to a sand-infested room.
Dorothy, however, had noticed that the record store down the beach did piercing. Despite her questionable logic, off we went.
Little Feet has either visited or the owner/manager was just a (huge) fan, but I only vaguely knew of them. I think they were contemporaries of Black Oak Arkansas. I am sure I could have bought their albums there, too.
Dorothy told the guy behind the counter thant I wanted to get my ears pierced. He showed me the options. I picked out some simple gold balls. "Ugg! No. Those are boring. Get something better." My less boring, more acceptable choice was fake diamonds surrounded by fake gold.
"All right, hold still." He shot the earring into my earlobe with a piercing gun. That hurt. Then he did the other one.
I paid and walked out. My ears were still hurting, though. Dorothy tried to help me by loosening up the backs. Unfortunately, one earring came out. Dorothy, being the dear friend she is, shoved it back in.Ouch, that hurt!
Unfortunately, the earring went back in crooked. Or maybe the guy put it in at an angle. Either way, my right earring was crooked for years. (Until it grew back, actually. I have been crazy enough to do this more than once!)
"Dad won't let me."
"You are 18 years old. He can't stop you. Besides, he's not here." Dorothy was persuasive. And insistent.
"I don't know any where here that does it." We were in Panama City Beach, Florida. We were there on a school-wide senior trip. We, the 15 members of the senior class of Mt. Judea High School, had fund-raised all year to earn the money for that trip. Before the Internet and Yelp! we had rented some condos on the beach and traveled via school bus. "Condo" was actually used loosely by the marketing team. Two beds, one room and an extra sink,, mini-fridge and microwave does not typically mean "condo" to most people. But there we were, sleeping six to a sand-infested room.
Dorothy, however, had noticed that the record store down the beach did piercing. Despite her questionable logic, off we went.
Little Feet has either visited or the owner/manager was just a (huge) fan, but I only vaguely knew of them. I think they were contemporaries of Black Oak Arkansas. I am sure I could have bought their albums there, too.
Dorothy told the guy behind the counter thant I wanted to get my ears pierced. He showed me the options. I picked out some simple gold balls. "Ugg! No. Those are boring. Get something better." My less boring, more acceptable choice was fake diamonds surrounded by fake gold.
"All right, hold still." He shot the earring into my earlobe with a piercing gun. That hurt. Then he did the other one.
I paid and walked out. My ears were still hurting, though. Dorothy tried to help me by loosening up the backs. Unfortunately, one earring came out. Dorothy, being the dear friend she is, shoved it back in.Ouch, that hurt!
Unfortunately, the earring went back in crooked. Or maybe the guy put it in at an angle. Either way, my right earring was crooked for years. (Until it grew back, actually. I have been crazy enough to do this more than once!)
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
August 2014
The year is more than half over and here I'm getting back to my neglected blog. I don't even know why I was thinking about it.
Last week, the man who taught me about evolution died. He was a good Christian man who attended the local Church of Christ Church every week. When he started teaching us about evolution, he pointed to the Bible on his bookshelf and said, "That book tells you one way that the world is created. But this is science class and we are going to learn how science says that life originated. If you want to talk about what's in the Bible, see me outside of class, and I am happy to talk to you about it."
And we learned evolution. For Mr. Gregory, I am thankful.
Last week, the man who taught me about evolution died. He was a good Christian man who attended the local Church of Christ Church every week. When he started teaching us about evolution, he pointed to the Bible on his bookshelf and said, "That book tells you one way that the world is created. But this is science class and we are going to learn how science says that life originated. If you want to talk about what's in the Bible, see me outside of class, and I am happy to talk to you about it."
And we learned evolution. For Mr. Gregory, I am thankful.
Friday, July 05, 2013
Wow
Was that a 7 month hiatus?
How did that happen? How did my good habit of 20 minutes a day die such a quick, yet painful, death?
No clue. I've been working on my dissertation proposal. But it is still unfinished. And still nebulous.
I am starting another class on Monday. Summer II, Academic Writing and Research. Comp II is hard for 18-19 year olds anyway and is even harder in our 5 week summer term. I'll be using some high school techniques (and some middle school techniques) to try to entice them to think and to write.
How did that happen? How did my good habit of 20 minutes a day die such a quick, yet painful, death?
No clue. I've been working on my dissertation proposal. But it is still unfinished. And still nebulous.
I am starting another class on Monday. Summer II, Academic Writing and Research. Comp II is hard for 18-19 year olds anyway and is even harder in our 5 week summer term. I'll be using some high school techniques (and some middle school techniques) to try to entice them to think and to write.
Monday, January 07, 2013
Last day of break
Today was the last day of break for the kids. I have two days to myself to get ready for my classes.
And of course, as I was sitting here writing this, DH had a crisis. His glasses broke. I managed to hold them together and told him to find some super glue so I could try to put them together. And I told him where to find the super glue. I had it located within 12 square inches and even had the right name brand for once.
He couldn't find the glue, so he wanted me to look. I always suspected that his perception was that everything he do is harder than everything I do, but this proves it. I did eventually get up and find the glue, but of course, the glasses came apart again. I went right to the glue. He hadn't really looked. He walked in there and because it didn't jump off the shelf at him, I was "cruel" for making him look. Anyway, the glasses are glued together, but they aren't fixed by any stretch of the imagination.
Good lord help me. When things go well, they do. But the least little thing that goes wrong and it is a huge deal. Well, let me rephrase. If the least little thing goes wrong for him, it is a big deal. When thing go wrong for me, "he knows I can solve it."
*sigh
Fortunately, these days are few and far between. This level of drama is not something that I can deal with every day.
And of course, as I was sitting here writing this, DH had a crisis. His glasses broke. I managed to hold them together and told him to find some super glue so I could try to put them together. And I told him where to find the super glue. I had it located within 12 square inches and even had the right name brand for once.
He couldn't find the glue, so he wanted me to look. I always suspected that his perception was that everything he do is harder than everything I do, but this proves it. I did eventually get up and find the glue, but of course, the glasses came apart again. I went right to the glue. He hadn't really looked. He walked in there and because it didn't jump off the shelf at him, I was "cruel" for making him look. Anyway, the glasses are glued together, but they aren't fixed by any stretch of the imagination.
Good lord help me. When things go well, they do. But the least little thing that goes wrong and it is a huge deal. Well, let me rephrase. If the least little thing goes wrong for him, it is a big deal. When thing go wrong for me, "he knows I can solve it."
*sigh
Fortunately, these days are few and far between. This level of drama is not something that I can deal with every day.
Friday, January 04, 2013
An Unproductive Day
All I really accomplished today was cooking dinner. I sat on the couch with my dh and watched home decorating shows, pretty much til he went to his doctor's appointment at 4. When he got home, I made dinner and we watched four episodes of Justified Season 3.
Justified may be my favorite series that is on the air right now. Harlen County reminds me a lot of Newton County. Not that we have that much crime, of course, but similar kinds of crime. Meth. Oxys. Stolen property. Weed. I like that the characters are nuanced. The hero is not all good; the villain is not all bad (and he speaks in beautiful King James-influenced English. Raylen has family problems. His father is involved with criminal enterprises, which causes Raylen no end of grief. Again, I can see how he must feel. I have some cousins who just can't seem to stay out of trouble with the law.
Our Liv is growing up. She's ten now, and seems to be destined to cause us grief. She is a drama queen. Where did all this drama come from? Also, she's popular. When I told her that I didn't know what to think about her being popular because I wasn't, she said, "Oh, did you like the friends you had?" Really?
In Heathers, I would have been Veronica. Shoot, I might have even been Martha (I was really pudgy in junior high). Liv might be a Heather, or at least one of the group who surrounded them. One of the group that JT wanted to eliminate. (Well, to be fair, he wanted to kill everyone, but he was a sociopath.) I guess I'll handle her the way I did the others: one crisis at a time, one joy at a time, one conversation at a time, one day at a time.
The thing about Liv is she's smart. She reads on, like, and 11th grade level, except it is a lexile level, which is slightly different from an actual reading level, except it isn't. Anyway, for a 5th grader, that is pretty good. But she doesn't always think clearly. I guess a lot of kids don't. I'm just not used to my kids not thinking. Mea over thinks everything. W thinks about how events can benefit him, or at least about how he can gain control of a situation. Like Mea, I overthink everything. Dh thinks, but sometimes his thought process is not obvious to me. But he *thinks*. But Liv? She floats. Floats and acts. This is foreign to me.
One of my friends posted on Facebook asking for a reading list for her son. For *life*. He is a bit squirrely, like Liv. Maybe I should make her read the list: Caves of Steel and I, Robot by Asimov, Have Space Suit, Will Travel by Heinlein, Ender's Game by Card, The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander,
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Adams, Ready Player One by Cline, Hamlet, Fahrenheit 451 by Bradbury, The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter, The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho, My Side of the Mountain by George. Hmmm....
Justified may be my favorite series that is on the air right now. Harlen County reminds me a lot of Newton County. Not that we have that much crime, of course, but similar kinds of crime. Meth. Oxys. Stolen property. Weed. I like that the characters are nuanced. The hero is not all good; the villain is not all bad (and he speaks in beautiful King James-influenced English. Raylen has family problems. His father is involved with criminal enterprises, which causes Raylen no end of grief. Again, I can see how he must feel. I have some cousins who just can't seem to stay out of trouble with the law.
Our Liv is growing up. She's ten now, and seems to be destined to cause us grief. She is a drama queen. Where did all this drama come from? Also, she's popular. When I told her that I didn't know what to think about her being popular because I wasn't, she said, "Oh, did you like the friends you had?" Really?
In Heathers, I would have been Veronica. Shoot, I might have even been Martha (I was really pudgy in junior high). Liv might be a Heather, or at least one of the group who surrounded them. One of the group that JT wanted to eliminate. (Well, to be fair, he wanted to kill everyone, but he was a sociopath.) I guess I'll handle her the way I did the others: one crisis at a time, one joy at a time, one conversation at a time, one day at a time.
The thing about Liv is she's smart. She reads on, like, and 11th grade level, except it is a lexile level, which is slightly different from an actual reading level, except it isn't. Anyway, for a 5th grader, that is pretty good. But she doesn't always think clearly. I guess a lot of kids don't. I'm just not used to my kids not thinking. Mea over thinks everything. W thinks about how events can benefit him, or at least about how he can gain control of a situation. Like Mea, I overthink everything. Dh thinks, but sometimes his thought process is not obvious to me. But he *thinks*. But Liv? She floats. Floats and acts. This is foreign to me.
One of my friends posted on Facebook asking for a reading list for her son. For *life*. He is a bit squirrely, like Liv. Maybe I should make her read the list: Caves of Steel and I, Robot by Asimov, Have Space Suit, Will Travel by Heinlein, Ender's Game by Card, The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander,
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Adams, Ready Player One by Cline, Hamlet, Fahrenheit 451 by Bradbury, The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter, The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho, My Side of the Mountain by George. Hmmm....
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Another Day of Writing
I am still trying to keep up with my 20 minutes a day. So here goes...
Today, I worked on painting a dresser for my guest room. I am hoping to get that room done before my Christmas break ends. After that, I hope to clean out Mea's old room and make that into a sewing room. I am going to paint the walls aqua, most of the furniture white and just have a very feminine room to sew and do crafts.
We'll do yoga again tonight, or at least that is the plan. Yesterday, my shoulders were sore and I had a headache all day. Today, my abs are sore. But I am heading out again tonight. I am also thinking about starting Weight Watchers again. I've gained back about 10 pounds, which is frustrating. I still pretty consistently wear a size 14, (which was an 18 when I was a kid). I'd like to ultimately get down to a 10 (which a 14 when I was a kid). I feel like this is a realistic goal. Sometimes. But then I realize that it will probably be another 30 pounds. Truthfully, I should weight about 150 pounds to be healthy. And that is what I weighed when I started working at UCA. (I weighed 164 when I started my PhD).
Of course, what do I want to do? Eat a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough. I somehow feel that would not be conducive to either.
Well, boys came home, which means that my writing is over for today.
Today, I worked on painting a dresser for my guest room. I am hoping to get that room done before my Christmas break ends. After that, I hope to clean out Mea's old room and make that into a sewing room. I am going to paint the walls aqua, most of the furniture white and just have a very feminine room to sew and do crafts.
We'll do yoga again tonight, or at least that is the plan. Yesterday, my shoulders were sore and I had a headache all day. Today, my abs are sore. But I am heading out again tonight. I am also thinking about starting Weight Watchers again. I've gained back about 10 pounds, which is frustrating. I still pretty consistently wear a size 14, (which was an 18 when I was a kid). I'd like to ultimately get down to a 10 (which a 14 when I was a kid). I feel like this is a realistic goal. Sometimes. But then I realize that it will probably be another 30 pounds. Truthfully, I should weight about 150 pounds to be healthy. And that is what I weighed when I started working at UCA. (I weighed 164 when I started my PhD).
Of course, what do I want to do? Eat a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough. I somehow feel that would not be conducive to either.
Well, boys came home, which means that my writing is over for today.
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