Updating (for Monda)

So yesterday morning, I was in the bathroom. The toilet was not flushing just right. So I flushed again. And it started filling up closer to the rim. So I ask if anyone has seen the plunger, in our new house that we are not totally moved into. Olivia, who is six, found me the plunger. So I plunge. And plunge. And it started going down a bit... Aha! I thought I had solved it. So I flushed. And the toilet began overflowing, all over the bathroom floor. So I am standing there, in my underwear (because I don't want to get it on my clothes), trying to clean up the mess ('cause you don't want that in your woodwork). And I swear, I felt like I was up to my ankles in sewage (it could not have been that high, realistically, but I am talking about felt truth here...).

And then it was time to go to get my daughter to marching band practice. But, after I go clean up (in cold water, because the hot water is not yet on). So I clean up in cold water and then start trying to get my daughter out the door.

But of course, she is not dressed. And she cannot find clothes. And she is a nervous wreck, because she can't find the clothes that she wants to wear. And when she gets nervous, she gets physically ill.

So she stayed home.

So then, I call my realtor. Crying.

And she calls the owner (because we haven't yet closed. ADDI inspection. Long story), since we are doing early occupancy. And the owner, riding his shining white horse, agrees to fix the sewage (although he questions whether or not the line was really clogged-- men never believe that I know anything about plumbing). I do go pick up Mea, because everyone is uncomfortable with my teenage daughter being home with men coming in and out of the house. So I go pick up Mea, and we go to Stobys. Because god knows that after a morning like that, we need comfort food (pancakes).

And they found the shop towel that the boy-renters had flushed down the toilet. And then, the owner cleaned up the mess in the bathroom.

And then the other owner (the wife) rode in on her own white horse. She knows someone at the gas company, so they come in days before the "first available appointment" and turned on our natural gas (and thus our hot water).

So last night I took a hot shower. And that made me so happy.

My turn with the funeral post...

Today I went to Arvilla Smith's funeral. Arvilla and I were not that close, but she and my great-grandmother were. Arvilla came from a big family, and, as I understand it, kind of got lost in the crowd. My granny (the afore mentioned great-grandmother) was raising her grand daughter, Patsy, who was about the same age, and so Arvilla kind of adopted the family.

So Arvilla was always around. While she was not technically related, I saw her more often that I did many of her cousins (except Wardena's kids mentioned in the Pond story recently).

We went to my granny's on Sundays, after church and after lunch. About every month or two, Arvilla would be there. As far as I know, she never came empty handed. She was always bringing a pie, or flowers, or something. When granny got older and couldn't take care of herself, Arvilla got a job with the Area Agency on Aging so that she could come and get paid to take care of her. Arvilla is the only person I know that could bake an apple pie that tasted like my granny's. And I think granny had her bake the pies for us, really. She liked circus peanuts (which I still like stale, because that is how granny's always were, because she stored them on top of the refrigerator).

Eventually, Arvilla got a different job-- one that was full time with benefits. Which is a good thing, because, like everyone I love, she got cancer. She won a couple of rounds, but with cancer, you always lose the war. Cancer won June 15.

It is not that Arvilla and I were that close, really. I have only seen her a handful of times since my granny died. But I still loved her, if that makes any sense. When she came to my mamaw and papaw's house after my papaw died, we all cried together. She came to the house for my mamaw's funeral as well. She was part of the family. Any of us would have done anything for her.
And more than herself, personally, she is part of my childhood-- my life at "home." That life keeps slipping further and further away. I used to kid myself and say that I would move home, if I could get a job that paid anything, but Todd was actually offered a job there a couple of years back that he turned down. That is not who I am any more.

But it is hard watching that world evaporate. Arvilla's kids are not like her (and the one that is most like her lives in Greenbrier, not at home). My mom is not like her granny. And I am not really like either one. I wish I could capture that world, because there is no where like it. It was anachronism twenty years ago, so it would be even more so now.

But, oh, how I wish it weren't.

Sound Essay

This was done for the New Media Theory and Practice course that I am taking... I have no idea how the grade will be, but I love the result. (Crossposted from http://cybernatedlearning.blogspot.com-- dreary class blog)

I knew what I wanted to write about from the beginning of this assignment. I believe passionately that people should write and tell their stories. Or just tell their stories. I draw heavily on my past and on my cultural heritage to make meaning of my life and experiences. So it was very important for me to try to pull in someone from my hometown.

I have some video of my grandmother, who passed away in 2005. She was our next door neighbor, and was consequently very important in my life. She often talked about her past, but of course, she never considered herself to be a writer, and she never wrote. Rarely did she even write letters, as the telephone was so much more immediate. My video, however, would not import (after about eight hours of trying), so I did not get to use my grandmother's voice.

Something that I did have, though, was an interview that my daughter did for her history day project with Mrs. Marshall, a friend of my mother's. Mrs. Marshall and my mother ended up talking about the stories they knew from childhood, and how telling stories made it easier to cope with the death of loved ones. So after 14 hours of attempting, I finally re-imported Mrs. Marshall's interview into Adobe Premiere Elements, which allowed me to extract the audio.

My audio essay was originally a lecture that I gave to our Honors College freshmen class about writing memoir. It was based heavily on a piece by Patricia Hampl that we all read. So I removed most of what came from the reading, except one little piece that I quoted.

I also went looking to see if I could find Donald Murray talking about writing. He has been the most influential theorist on my teaching. And I love the way he approaches writing, especially if I trying to encourage someone to write. And I did find an audio interview with him by Chip Scanlon.

I used Mediaevel Baebes' Veni Veni as a background track.

I am really pleased with how this turned out, except that I am afraid that the volume is not even throughout. That was hard to get right because the Murray clip was posted online, and he was on a telephone. The interview footage with Mrs. Marshall was from a video camera without a separate microphone. The difference in inputs makes it hard to get the volume right. If I only had a mixing board.

I was really surprised by how many problems that I had with the technology. I usually have way more problems with the concepts than with the tools, but this time the concept came pretty easily and the tools nearly killed me.

Audio Essay: Writing Your Self

Home

We all drove up to Mom and Dad's today. First, though, I had to get my tags renewed-- because I am a loser and did not do it in October when I was supposed to. Traffic was terrible coming up here. Trucks everywhere, and Miss O had to go to the restroom three times.

KY3 (the Springfield MO NBC affiliate)is doing a story on the "baby boom" 10 months after the ice storm last year. I love Springfield local news. It is, of course, what I grew up with. We never saw Little Rock news at home, when I was a kid.

We got our new heat and air system installed. It is really nice to have heat again ; )
Old houses certainly have quirks.

I seem to be having a gathering at my house in December, which means I have to throw out stuff. I cannot bear for my oldest friends to see the mess my house is. And Do is probably going to stop by on her way to Louisiana. So, yeah, I have to clean my house. And I need to paint my living room, dining room, and trim. Because I have nasty paneling in my living room and ugly knotty pine trim in both the living room and dining rooms. And my dining room is yellow. Which is fine, until I paint my living room, then they will clash. And they are only divided by columns. So, they have to match.

All this after my final paper is due on Dec. 8, grades are due a week after that. Then I am free for a week to clean my house.

Breathing

We gave away some furniture today. It was lovely furniture. Nice dresser and chest of drawers. But we simply did not have room. The furniture was seventies-era boxy furniture and we live in a 1920's bungalow. The house really has only 1460 square feet. Related to this give-away is my decluttering. Christopher Lowell says 7 out of 10 people have too much clutter. (I would like to know where that statistic came from, btw.) I *know* that I have too much clutter.

Clothing is my nemesis. I cleared out Olivia's 4T clothes today-- at least most of them. I am not even trying most of it on her to see if she *could* wear it one more season. I am just taking it to Katie. I have a kitchen trash sack half-full of clothes that just do not make me feel happy when I wear them. And I am giving myself til when school starts to get my weight back down or I am going to start getting rid of everything that does not fit well. Or that I just do not wear. I love clothes. Really. Love. Clothes. But right now, I have too much of a good thing...

My house continues to cause me stress. I would *love* to have a tidy house. I don't see ever having a home like my aunt, that always looks company ready. I do need, though, for it to not look like one of my children exploded in my living room. I do need to have enough of the mess contained that "finding the floor" can cease to be one of my hobbies. I need to be able to sweep without being a major production.

I made W clean up his room today. That was mildly painful. And he will need to clean his room again tomorrow. Finding the floor is a major part of what he will be doing. Next I need to nag Meleah. Her room is bad as well. She has no floor. Only clothing. Like her mother, she also likes clothes. Also like her mother, she has *way* too many of them.

On a brighter note, I received my paperwork to accept my fellowship for this summer, so it is all official.