I'm sure everybody--and by "everybody," I mean "Catherine"--will be glad to know I've unwound just a bit this week. I have been so uptight the past four weeks that I've been like...I don't know, rapidly cooling blown glass? You should be hiding behind a protective shield because you know I'm about to shatter into a thousand incredibly sharp pieces ANY SECOND NOW. But I've been more or less relaxing this week (I can't seem to completely stop working as long as I know a due date is approaching) and it's probably doing everyone some good. An example: last night, instead of spending even more hours in front of the computer searching for resources on the discourse of non-western science (yes, that's a hint, if you know of any good ones, e-mail me), I sat on the couch with a glass of sherry and read Stave 1 of Dickens' A Christmas Carol to Catherine. Every year I am amazed at how well the Muppets captured the language of the original. Good job, Gonzo.

Such a tough time of year for the non-believers, isn't it? I don't really mind the whole Christmas thing too much--a holiday that says "be nice and give things to people" is okay by me--but then again, I'm usually in control of my exposure to All Things Christmas. Don't want to hear Christmas music? Don't go to the mall. Simple. I wasn't expecting our monthly Civil War Roundtable meeting to turn into a church service, though. I guess I should have figured, since the presentation topic was "Christmas during the Civil War," but I'm so out of touch religiously that it never occurred to me I'd be hearing about the Baby Jesus.

Anyway, I learned a few things tonight:

1. How did I get to be this age without learning what "myrrh" is? I mean, I knew it was "an aromatic resin" of some sort, put into balm, but I didn't know it was used to *embalm* people. How creepy is it that the Three Kings brought a baby something to be used in embalming? What kind of message were they sending the kid? "Welcome, prepare to die." No wonder I'm not a Christian.

2. I learned a different version of "Away in a Manger" when I was a kid. The song we heard tonight I knew as "Luther's Cradle Hymn." Same lyrics, better tune.

3. The really interesting thing I learned today is that Longfellow wrote the poem/Christmas carol "Christmas Bells" on Christmas 1864 when he was particularly depressed about family tragedies and the Civil War. I'm sure I've heard or sung this song before, but I'm also sure the verses about the Civil War weren't part of the lyrics in the standard Baptist hymnal. Those stanzas make it an immensely interesting poem, much better than just a Christmas carol--not hard to see who he felt was at fault during the war:

"Christmas Bells"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1864

"I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

If one more person says, "At least you don't have to do any homework for awhile!" I WILL SCREAM. Shall I make a list of everything I have to write and submit in the next month? Book review, conference proposal, a research bibliography, fellowship application... It makes me wonder, am I doing this all wrong? Should I not have a stack of work to do over winter break? I think it's less that I'm doing it wrong and more that people outside academia don't realize that "vacation" is a synonym for "a time for working without the usual interruptions."

And do you realize that Christmas is only a week away, and I haven't done one single thing to prepare for it? Other than starting to drink rum in the evenings, I mean?

Mm. I thought I would feel better after turning in my last paper, but it turns out...not. Catherine says she used to feel the same way, it's just a transition from "Oh my god, I'm not going to get it finished in time!" to "Oh my god, they're reading that garbage I wrote RIGHT NOW!" Maybe I'll calm down after I take my final on Friday.

All things considered, I think I produced a lot of work this semester, not that much of it will help me in the long run. This is the last time I take a class just because it seems like a politically smart thing to do. Proven: "politically smart" isn't the same thing as "interesting subject." And really, whoever it was who said EVERY subject is interesting if you approach it with the right attitude really hasn't spent enough time in graduate school.

So...what can we say I accomplished this semester? A total of 5 seminar presentations, with handouts and slides to support. Seven response essays. One short research paper (Title: "The Crystal Palace and Postmodern Architectural Theory"). Two informal Hindi class presentations (joke). Three research papers (Titles: "Frank Lloyd Wright, Francis C. Sullivan and the Banff Park Recreation Pavilion, 1911-1913"; "Always Already Lost: Postcolonial Theory and the Search for Identity in Indian Architecture"; and "Vastu Vidya: Vedic Architectural Theory in Postmodern India." Notice a trend?) supported with three research presentations. All three presentations were disastrous. As we all know, after the first one, I ended up in therapy. After the second, I ended up crying. After the third, I ended up not caring about much of anything at all.

Two days to my final, on which I must get 100%. I obviously don't have time to be typing this at all, do I?

I *thought* it was Mr. Foster who came to the schoolhouse, but then I wondered, "Why would anyone follow Mr. Foster out into a blizzard? I wouldn't follow a guy who can't keep his head and ends up losing Almanzo's horse to a herd of antelope, especially since no one knows yet that Mr. Foster can *spell*," then I remembered that the antelope were later so why not follow him into the blizzard? because you'd probably think Cap Garland's flashing white smile would save they day, anyway.

You remember how in The Long Winter Laura and Carrie are in school and a blizzard comes and they all look each other in a worried way because they know they have to get home but they also know they will get lost in the snow if they leave the school house so maybe they should stay inside and burn the furniture until the blizzard is over in three days but then someone from town comes and tells them to follow him and so they go out into the snow even though they know its a bad idea because people get lost in blizzards all the time but they try to head for town and almost get lost but then Laura runs into the corner of a building and yells really loud for everyone to come back because she has found town and then everyone is in town and Laura and Carrie are home and when they take off their mufflers they are frozen solid with ice and even when Laura is sitting by the fire she is too cold to think and when she wipes her eyes her hand has blood on it because the ice cut her eyes because they were out in the snow?

Illinois is a lot like that.

Story.

Blog.

Last night I went to a hockey game--there's nothing like ritualized harrassment to make you feel better about life. Well, it's a little troubling watching 6-year-old boys learn how to chant "Hey, you suck! Hey, you suck! Hey, you suck, too!" but hockey crowds are so predictable in their reactions that it's almost a soothing experience. And really, it's the individual yelling that gets to me, that one, loud obscene fan who obviously needs anger management classes. In general, though, Illinois crowds are much better behaved than Indiana crowds, maybe because the University has much greater oversight at the games here than the games at the rink in Bloomington. Also, Illinois wins all the the time, so the crowd never really gets angry.

Tonight's my last big emotional challenge for the semester. I have two papers and one presentation left to go, but if I can get through tonight's function without having a meltdown, I should at least be able to finish the semester without too much trouble. Right now I'm just dealing with regular old end-of-the-semester inertia combined with a poorly insulated apartment. It got down into the single digits for the first time last night, and I woke up at 3 a.m. shivering under my FOUR BLANKETS AND A COMFORTER. Did the radiators even come on last night?

I just looked down at a pile of papers on my office floor, and on one of them, it says in block letters "DON'T BLAME PANOFSKY!" What in the world prompted me to write that?

Random thoughts, in no particular order (and thus...actually random):

1. Clean up office so Panofsky quits distracting me.
2. Thanksgiving break was okay, even if half of it was spent apologizing for picking a fight with my partner.
3. You must wonder--if leaving is so hard, why even bother arriving? Save ourselves the trouble.
4. It is fucking cold here.
5. Two weeks plus finals.
6. No way to pull an A in Hindi short of getting more than 100% on the final. How statistically impossible is that?
7. This weekend will blow.
8. Garry and Amanda, cheese souffle, Farming Game. We are never getting a dog.
9. Homi Bhaba calls.
10. As does...whatever the hell the name of that book is that you're supposed to have read by Friday.
11. Radiators suck.
12.

Well, productivity has been low for the past few days, but I've decided I'm going to go with the assumption that the guy who invented vacations knew what he was doing. One or two (or three or four) days of rest and relaxation must be good for my mind. And if it's not, I don't want to hear about it. I'm not exactly at a point in my work where I should feel good about taking a break (1/2 way through one paper, 1/4 way through a second, haven't even thought about the third...and oh, those two presentations? I'll deal with them later), but I figure writing nothing at all has to be better than writing "I hate you all and wish you would die" over and over again. At least I can't go to jail for sitting around and doing nothing at this point.

So....thirteen weeks of graduate school and I'm already back in therapy. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, especially since I seem to be carrying a rather large load of "You Cannot Fail AGAIN" on my back these days. But still...thirteen weeks? Couldn't I have sucked it up for a least a semester before having a nervous breakdown? And really...crying in the counselor's office? What the hell is that about? I DO NOT cry in front of people. In the past thirteen years, the only person I've cried in front of is Catherine, and even that is has been rather infrequent. Before Catherine, I know I cried once in front of Chong. And I've cried in front of my family, but they were trying to provoke me into crying, so I don't think that counts. So, in the last twenty years or so, I've cried in front of exactly two people before today. Why couldn't I have kept that behavior up instead of bursting into tears, I don't know, all of two seconds into my therapy session? I really DO need my head examined.

If I was the kind of person who wanted to write a coded love letter, I would give the person I loved a copy of a much cherished book, identical in edition to the one I kept on my own shelf. I would write "17-1-1::38-9-1/56-15-14/57-4-22/1-1-4::19-6-21/69-6-5/13-7-8" on a piece of paper, slip it inside the cover, and hope they cared enough about me to decipher the code stored in the pages of a book written by someone other than me.

Here's my question on academic integrity:

If a professor assigns me a chapter to read, and I read it (twice), and I don't understand it (twice), is it cheating to go to the library and find the book so I can read the introduction and therefore have someone position/interpret the article for me? I somehow think it is, but I don't think it's going to keep me from doing it (more than twice).

Well, the trip to Chicago wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I've been dreading it all semester, and my anxiety level escalated when I realized I was going to have to ride there in my advisor's vehicle, all by myself. Think about how many opportunities a person can have during a 4.5 hour car ride to misspeak and therefore to tank one's academic career. But, it was mostly okay and I think even if it hadn't worked out alright, it might have been worth it in order to see the buildings we visited. My advisor arranged for our class to tour four private residences (the Frank Thomas House, the Robert Spencer House, the Charles Purcell House and the William Drummond House), and that opportunity will never happen again, so that was nice.

Still, two field trips to Chicago is at least one too many during a semester when I'm driving back and forth to Indiana every other weekend.

Who gets to decide how much "potential" I have in me? My report cards in grammar/junior high/high school were very consistent: nearly every one noted that "Susan is not working up to her potential." (The corollary to that, appearing nearly as often, is "Susan has a bad attitude," but that's another post.) My entire school career was thus characterized by failure. I should be doing better in class, but I'm not. I should be a better citizen, but I'm not.

The point is, in graduate school, I get a lot of feedback about my potential. (Another aside: I had no obvious potential as an undergraduate. Mostly my professors wished I wouldn't sleep so much in class. I'm not making that up.) I understand that professors like students who show up on time for class, do the reading, fill in the awkward silences in seminars, and compose grammatical sentences in their research papers. And I do like getting feedback on my work, and it is nice to know that I don't sound like a complete idiot when I hold forth in class. Still, once someone starts making positive sounds about a student's work, there's always that specter of "failing to live up to one's potential" hovering in the background.

It's so easy to not live up to your potential in graduate school, maybe because so many people have so much invested in your success. If I listed off the number of people who have some sort of aspirations for my academic career, I'd be here all night. Everyone seems to have somehow magically assessed my potential for academic success, and part of me would love to fail just to make people think twice about the assumptions they make about me. If I could figure out a way to do it without losing my student health insurance, I'd probably give it a try.

So, yesterday I saw a girl get run over and killed by a bus. Or, rather, I didn't see it, even though I was looking right at the bus when it happened. Maybe that's why I'm so upset--it seems like if an 18-year-old girl is going to be killed in front of me, the least I could so is see it. Did I glance away at just the right moment? I can't remember, and what I do remember doesn't seem to match up with what must have happened.

I'm pretty sure I saw the bus come to a stop. I must have, it was turning into the street in front of me. And I think I must have thought, "Oh, it is stopped because a student is crossing even though the bus is trying to turn," or something like that, because I think that a dozen times every time I drive near campus. But I don't really know. I know the bus stopped and eventually I realized it wasn't moving again, but even then, I didn't see. I had a conversation with myself about how it was really a good thing that traffic was stalled because I didn't have much money to put in the meter, so if could spend a few minutes stopped in traffic, that would put me in the parking lot that much closer to five o'clock after which time parking would be free.

I don't know when I really looked at what was in front of me--never, really. It just dawned on me that people weren't moving properly, the people on the sidewalk, I mean. And I remember thinking, "Oh, god, I hope the bus didn't stop because someone jumped off that building and committed suicide." Why would I think that? It doesn't even make sense. Yes, there's a tall building right on that block, but why did I think that (other than the fact that twice people have jumped off buildings right outside my office in the past ten years)? So, I talked to myself about how I hoped no one jumped off the building, and how something bad is obviously going on right here, and if I turned off could I figure out how to get to where I was going? Because I haven't lived here long enough to know how to get anywhere, really.

And by then, of course, I knew it was really bad. I have been trying to figure out exactly how things happened, but it just seems like there were people there, and then there were sirens, and then I was turning off and heading in a different direction. I drove around for a bit, then felt sort of drawn back, so I parked in the library parking lot. I knew it was really bad then, because the police had put up yellow tape to keep traffic out and there was a (second?) ambulance (for the bus driver?). I spent two hours in the library trying not to think about it, but the bus was still there when I came out, waiting for me.

Since I didn't see...it didn't happen. It didn't happen for me until I was walking to school this morning and I saw the flowers on the sidewalk--why didn't I take a different route to school? Why did I stop for coffee before class this morning? I usually don't, and when I don't, I walk up Wright, and then I wouldn't have seen anything this morning.

If I did see anything. I know what I think I saw last night, but I also know it couldn't have happened that way. I know for part of today I remembered the bus facing one way, then for the rest of the day, I remembered it facing the other way, which I think is the right way? It was facing me to the south, right? Well, I know what I didn't see, but I can't figure out how it's possible that someone can be killed right in front of me yet I can't see it. But I didn't see what was right in front of me, and that seems really, really wrong.

I decided quite awhile ago that this wouldn't be another one of those cloak-and-dagger-life-in-academia blogs. You know the ones I'm talkng about? The ones with authors who all seem to be sporting flashy noms de guerre and all refer to their family members with catchy pseudonyms or abbreviations? (Note to those blog people--if you're in academia and you identify your subject of study and the fact that you're in a tenure-track position in a major midwestern state school, I can find you in less than 10 minutes whether you want me to or not.) I hate the kind of rhetoric that floats out from behind these masked identities. People seem to think that because they are "anonymous," they are somehow protected from institutional control, and thus their writing is more "real" and "accessible" since it is "uncensored" and "tells it like it really is." My opinion? We could use a little more self-censorship on the web. If you can get fired for saying it in public, make a choice: either say it outloud anyway and really challenge the system, or keep it to yourself. Speaking out when there is nothing at stake isn't particularly useful. More importantly, it isn't particularly interesting (to me).

That's actually two decisions I made: 1) don't write a whiny "the academy sucks and this is why" blog with a fake name and location (I'm at University of Illinois @ Urbana-Champaign if you couldn't figure that out for yourselves) and 2) never read anonymous blogs again. Decision #1 wasn't particularly drastic--I don't write in any form of journal much anymore, so not going through the effort to write long (yet mysterious) passages on the view from the second floor of the ivory tower isn't exactly a hardship. Decision #2 required some thought, but then I realized, of all the anonymous blogs I read, I only ever enjoy one. I'd much rather read Francis' thoughts on can openers or Josh's take on Rex Morgan than...well...I won't link to the kind of writing that bores me to death. There's critical, and then there's mean, and I'm not in the mood to be mean.

Left Bloomington on Saturday, drove to Illinois w/Garry and Amanda following. G & A did the hard parts of unloading the truck, but at least we took them to dinner at Dom's. Slept on the floor so they could have the bed Saturday night. Too old for this kind of stuff. Trying to get everything organized, Catherine is focusing on the kitchen. Trying to remember this downward mobility is temporary and I'll eventually be back in a nice, clean, stable, lower-middle-class home. Met w/advisors, bought the books, classes start tomorrow. I guess they'll be keeping me busy.

A Lifetime of Birthdays

18th - Nike golf shoes and a golf bag from Village Green in Port Orchard
19th - On the ranch. Elsie's sour cream white sheet cake w/guitar.
20th - Would have been on the ranch. A vague memory of watching TV at my grandmother's.
21st - Just back from the Soviet Union. A barbeque w/my parents and aunt using the green sauce I smuggled out of Soviet Georgia.
22nd - Must have been at my parents in Loomis. Living in Seattle.
23rd - First summer in Bellingham, just back from the Soviet Union. Must have been at my parents.
24th - Leaving for L.A., driving to David's in Eugene from Seattle.
25th - Working for Ron, must have been at my parents in Loomis.
26th - First birthday w/Catherine, Oregon Zoo t-shirt.
27th - Can't really remember.
28th - Can't really remember.
29th - Must have been the year we went to Ashland/Jacksonville. Dinner at the Greenleaf Restaurant.
30th - Woke up puking in Beloit, Wisconsin. Arrived in Bloomington, dinner w/David and Jen, Kes was fed up w/me.
31st - Moving to the house, staying at David and Jen's. Spent the night at the Grant St. Inn, salmon dinner at the Uptown.
32nd - Might have been the year we went to the Indiana State Fair to see Reba.
33rd - Can't really remember.
34th - Can't really remember.
35th - Woke up in a cabin on Skykomish River, went for a run. Drove to Seattle, dinner at the Mongolian barbeque, Catherine bought me a couple of books at Bailey/Coy. Stayed on the MV Challenger, had a daytrip to Tillicum Village. Biggest birthday ever.
36th - Woke up in Pokagon State Park. Catherine gave me Douglas the skunk. Ended up at Bear Creek Farm for the night. Pretty well documented online.
37th - Low key, just back from vacation. Bought an ice-cream cake from Ritter's, had Garry and Amanda over.
38th - Indiana State Fair to see Garrison Keillor. First birthday party ever. Garry and Amanda hosted surprise party w/Diane and Garrett, Henry and Erika. Grace slept on my lap.
39th - Can't really remember, other than the fact that Catherine hooked me up with high-speed internet for a present during the first week of classes.
40th - Dinner with Dana, Craig, Jonah, Evie. Catherine arranged for us to take a sail on the lake while we were in Chicago.
41st - Trip to the National Corvette Museum and Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.
42nd - Bhopal in silence (2009).
43rd - Sugarland w/Little Big Town at the Indiana State Fair, movie (Nanny McPhee Returns), lunch at Bucceto's, chocolate cake.
44th - Bowling. I had to teach on my actual birthday (2011) but Beth W. took me out to dinner (donation by Catherine).
45th - Dinner at Bucceto's, chocolate cake. Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.
46th - Thai food in Charlottesville, first day in Esmont.
47th - Niagara Falls, overnight in Buffalo, moving to Boston.
48th - Attempted to make my own cupcakes. Tropical sprinkles with plastic zoo animals (2015).
49th - Saturday rocket launch with CMASS, Sunday visit to Gropius house, Thai food for dinner, camping the next weekend.
50th - Started the day before with a total solar eclipse! Catherine bought me a Burke whistle, which I played for the first time at the rental house in the Alvord desert. Lisa tried to make a cake, but it ended up as chocolate mousse. Liz drove up from California. When we got back to Massachusetts, there was a Pikachu cake!

51st - Not a big celebration, feeling blue because of Fern and Lee. But another Pikachu cake! Two lovely books from Catherine (a medieval bird book, a book on underwater archaeology). Maynard Community Band concert.

52nd - Catherine bought us tickets for a weekend in Rockport! Summer Celtic Sojourn, "Celtic/Appalachia" and "Strings on Strings." Fantastic! A nice Airbnb in Gloucester. French bakery on the final morning. Pikachu plays the fiddle cake!

53rd - A Happy Pandemic Birthday. Made a peach cobbler. Catherine gave me two Carpenters albums (vinyl), four books (Maya glyphs, Egyptian hieroglyphs, two hiking books), zoo membership, pizza, played bocce.

54th - Camping at Massasoit State Park. Cut short thanks to Hurricane Henri. Run in the rain at the park. Fungarium book, virtual ukulele camp, carrot cake, zoo animal (Vicki the Sloth Bear)

55th - Camping at Lake Dennison, a little bit of stargazing. Lemon cake (1/2 100 days of violin reward), banjo uke. Great bird songbook, Danish string quartet CD.

56th - Another fantastic lemon cake. Went for a boat ride on the Blackstone River on Sunday. A run in the morning, out to dinner in the evening. A Low D Whistle, a book about the East India Co., an alabaster bowl and scarabs from Egypt.

57th - Up at 4:30 for a run (short 4.5 miles, cut-back week while training for NJ 50K). Cute Pokemon card from Catherine. Had a normal work day, violin lesson. Had an S&T folk get-together on Saturday after, with a birthday cake featuring chickens and hay bales. Presents: new blankets, book on women in the Valley of the Kings, sea monster tshirt, running socks, Taylor Swift music books, Shokz headphones.

Tonasket High School Class of 1985 20th Class Reunion.

T minus 7 and counting.

От старых друзей весточки нет, грустно.
А на душе от свежих газет пусто.
И от несвежих - невелика потеха.
Правда вот был армейский дружок - уехал.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.

Запил сосед - у них на фабрике стачка.
С чаем беда - осталась одна пачка.
На кухне записка: "Не жди, останусь у Гали".
По телеку рядятся, как дальше жить - достали.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.

Скорей бы лед встал. Пошел бы тогда на рыбалку.
Чего бы поймал - знакомым раздал, не жалко.
Луна появилась и лезет настырно все выше и выше.
Сейчас со всей мочи завою с тоски - никто не услышит.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
A если не услышит, ой-йо!

So that's it, then. My boss handed me my last paycheck, thanked me for my work, and shook my hand in farewell. One year of work--finished. I feel a little sad, because these past two weeks, with the clock running out, I liked my job. It was a lot like it was at the beginning, with a lot to do, much to be taken care of. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that my affection for this position surely would have been short-lived; reality has a way of showing up again in the end.

My boss is going to be in a world of hurt without me, I can say that. I don't think he's realized how much I've been doing around here. Even worse, I don't think he realized how much more I could have done, if only he'd given me the chance. His loss. Now he doesn't have anyone to help him. Not that I'm irreplaceable, but he'll have a hard time, I think. I'm proud of what I've done in the last year. It's a heady feeling, looking around a construction site, knowing that a certain wall is located just where it is because I told them to put it there. I could have had them put it a half-inch or a half-foot in the other direction, but I didn't. Good, strong stuff.

Anyway, that's over and done with, and we'll just have to see what happens next.

On a partly un-related note, I've decided this is a good time to take an extended vacation from the chore of updating this page. I've been keeping an online life chronicle for four years now, and I stopped learning about myself in the process of doing it about two years ago. For the past six months or so, this journal has been limping along on crippled legs. For the last two months, it's been kept alive only by the internet equivalent of an iron lung. This seems like the right time to let it go for awhile. Feel free to check back in a few months--only about half of the goodbyes in the world turn out to be forever.

We had a great weekend. I am in love with the Raymonster. Seriously.

Yesterday was a surprisingly good day. It's like everything good was waiting to happen on one particular day of the year, and that day of the year was apparently February 28. Who knew?

1. Realizing you don't suck, you just need to get your skates sharpened.

2. Informing your boss in a no-nonsense voice that No, you cannot stay on an extra two weeks.

3. Arriving home to find the order from Powells has *finally* arrived.

4. Being accepted into the grad program of your choice.

5. After two years of fussing, planning, waiting, buying a new drum set.

6. Managing to wash a week's worth of dirty dishes and discovering that you still have time to read before bed.

If I'd known how much better work would be once I'd given my two-week's notice, I would have quit a long time ago. I hand in my resignation, my boss hands me back my dignity. Nice trade. Somewhere in there is a heavy dose of irony, but I don't have time to look for it right now.

In other news, the afghan I'm working on is going well. I've got about a month of crocheting on it ahead of me, but I think it will stretch longer because I'm going to start this one as soon as I get the yarn. Working w/the afghan hook all evening tires out the hands; working a second quilt w/a K-size hook will be a nice alternative.

Anyway...I lack the motivation to document the details of my life, so I'm not going to do it for now. I'm going out of town for the weekend, maybe something so exciting will happen while I'm gone that I will be compelled to return to the keyboard afterward. On the other hand, maybe I'll just return home to my recliner and spend some quality time with a skein of yarn.

It's been a horrible, terrible experience--the kind of time when you find yourself standing on the bank of the river, wondering what it would feel like to drown. At least, that's where I've been the past several weeks. To his credit, my boss didn't make it worse when he could have, and I'm really not sure why, but I'm pretty sure I don't care anyway. In a couple of weeks I'll start a new job, and maybe we'll back away from the flood waters for awhile.

Mary Ann's article.

Asian carpets;
XVI, and XVII, century designs from the Jaipur palaces, &c., &c.,
Thomas Holbein Hendley; S S Jacob, Sir
1905
English Book Book 2 p. l., 20 p. CL (i.e. 145) pl. (part double, chiefly col.) maps. 56 cm.
London, W. Griggs,


Jeypore enamels,
S S Jacob, Sir; Thomas Holbein Hendley
1886
English Book Book 16 p. 28 col. pl. 38 cm.
London, W. Griggs,

Jeypore portfolio of architectural details ...
S S Jacob, Sir
1890-1913
English Book Book 12 v. 713 pl. (part col.) 45 cm. (pt. 1-6: 55 cm.)
London, B. Quaritch [etc.]


Jeypore portfolio of architectural details /
S S Jacob, Sir
1977, 1890
English Book Book portfolios : chiefly ill. ; 39 cm.
Varanasi : Indological Book House,

Impounding-reservoirs in India, and the design of masonry dams.
Comprising ... I. The Tansa works for the water-supply of Bombay. By William John Bird Clerke ... II. The Baroda waterworks. By Jagannath Sadasewjee ... III. The water-supply of Jeypore, Rajputana. By Colonel Samuel Swinton Jacob ... IV. On the design of masonry dams. By Franz Kreuter ... With an abstract of the discussion upon the papers.
James Forrest
1893
English Book Book 71, [1] p. incl. tables, diagrs. 4 fold. diagr. 23 cm.
London, The Institution,

Ask Catherine a question.

My third day home from work, and I still feel like crap. I have to go back to work tomorrow whether I want to or not, we can't afford such a long layoff as this has become. Particularly since Catherine received the lovely news this week that her "benefits" package is being re-worked, resulting in a $130 cut in take-home pay a month. As if she wasn't already being paid half the market value (the university market value, that is, which is about $10,000 less than the real world market value) of her position. A high pressure job with very little to offer in the way of recompense and rewards, if you ask me.

Lots of "what if" conversations going on right now. If we can't pay our mortgage, why not just sell the house? The solution we both seem to like right now is to sell the house and move in with Catherine's parents until we can find jobs in the Portland area. We won't make enough on the house to worry about capital gains tax, but we should make enough to pay for a few months of my student loans, moving expenses, and household expenses while we try to find employment. This seems to be on an early summer kind of timetable, and many things could happen between now and then, but we both think it might be the best thing we can do right now.

To support the Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender, and Reproduction:

Please contact the appropriate Indiana State Legislator (if you don't know who is representing you, check here), and encourage her or him to stand AGAINST House Bill 1841.

Two people in the household, both watching too much television. Two people in the household, neither getting enough exercise. Two people in the household, both unhappy with their jobs. Two people in the household, one has been sick in bed the past few days and the other has been playing nursemaid. Two people in the household, neither has anything to say.

Photocopying fees: $75.64
Testing feees: $115.00
Application fees: $190.00
Transcript fees: $172.00
Lodging during two interviews: $174.71
Four tutoring sessions: $80.00

Not included: transportation (gasoline, 670 miles), postage, paper/ink

Total expenses to date: $807.35

Model One.

Model Two.

We went down to Madison for the weekend, courtesy of my parents. We almost didn't go, as there was snow on the ground when we got up Saturday morning, and the route we intended to take was underwater from the flooding on the White River (see below), but we went anyway. Mostly there's not a lot to write about, because this is our third or fourth visit in as many years. Usually we stay up at Clifty Falls State Park, but the lodge is under construction now, so Catherine cut a deal with the owner of the Madison Fudge Factory and we stayed in a room above the candy store. It came with 1/2 pound of free fudge, as if we haven't had enough sugar in the past month.

We originally started visiting Madison because of the architecture and the park, but the truth is, we come back because movies at the downtown theater are only $3.50. We finally saw The Incredibles (great animation, good writing, so-so plot) Saturday night, and then went out for pizza afterward. It can be hard to find a meal in Madison this time a year, everything is closed for the winter, but when you do find them, they're all good.

The Ohio River is supposed to crest on Wednesday. In the meantime, it seems to be rising about a foot a day (based on our unscientific observations). Between our noontime walk along the bank and our 3 o'clock walk, the river had risen at least two inches, so it may be picking up speed.

Catherine at the river Saturday afternoon:



Same spot, Sunday afternoon:

Left work early on Thursday, just before they closed Ind. 46.

Driving west over the White River, looking across at the eastbound bridge:



Things look normal, but we're being re-routed out of our lanes into lanes that are normally eastbound:



The westbound lanes are threatened by the river:



One westbound lanes is underwater, the other and the turn lane are still there:



Two lanes under, turn lane still remains:



No lanes, all under water:



It won't be long until the eastbound lanes are under as well, but I'll be gone before that happens:

No internet access at home. We should probably call SBC about our phone line, but since they've already fixed it five different times in the past year, I can't see why I should waste my time. I should probably just have it disconnected and give up the modem connection entirely. I'd probably get more done in the evenings.

Or maybe not, as I've spent the past several days doing absolutely nothing even without the distraction of the internet at my fingertips. I think I chipped my humerus on New Year's Day (thanks so much, oh ye gods of arthritis), so I've expended a lot of energy toward keeping my body motionless. One good result of this event is that I learned that the plural of "humerus" is "humeri." Almost it makes it worth it, doesn't it? Anyway, I've got an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon on Monday, so we'll soon see what's what.

Tomorrow is Catherine's birthday.