Unhistoric Acts

some thoughts on thanksgiving and my relative place in the universe...

So. Thanksgiving. We had it.

We ate it.

And yes, we camped it.

 
We are a rogue bunch of campers indeed. But we have a big stove. And many dutch ovens. There's no moss on these particular camping stones.

 
We spent a lot of time around the campfire. We spent some amount of time chastizing the children for "playing" with the campfire...even thought we plunked them down around a campfire for a great deal of time. Sometimes, just to change things up, we asked them not to dance and skip around the campfire, lest they should fall in.

 
Sterling manned the dutch ovens as usual. I will say this -- the ONE saving grace of camping for me is that Sterling is in charge of the food. At home I'm in charge of the food. Being in charge of the food is like a giant hot potato. I don't want it. I keep chucking it to the only other available set of hands (those being Sterling's) and he pretends he doesn't see the flaming potato headed his way. He leaves to get a haircut. So there is nothing left for me to do but pick up the dern potato and continue on my merry way. But when we are CAMPING Sterling owns that potato, and I just keep my head down and pray that the potato doesn't land on my head when I'm not looking.

Wow. I just typed potato a lot of times.

Moving on.

 
Parker and Sam 'the boy' (thus differentiating him from Sam 'the girl') had a fun time at their very own concrete picnic table. I'm tellin' you...we spoil those kids something fierce.

 
Becca and Soapie Person are great pals. A few times they got bored. After all, they already walked down to the dock 57 times. Gosh. Don't mention the DOCK again around them...if you want to keep your head.

 
The trees were packed in tight around us. Like a protective shield. Like cloud cover from the harsh rays of the sun. Like hundreds of bony people with their arms outstretched to grab us and hold us forever in the enchanted forest. Until our skin wrinkled and fell in curdled swatches from our dried up bones. Ummm...that's all I got there...

Moving on.

 
Here's the lake with the alligators...that Parker wanted to swim in. He didn't care one whit about those alligators. I didn't let him though. Because I do care about alligators. And you want to know something? Right about now I'm looking at "whit" (two lines up) and wondering if it's really "whit" or "wit." I'm not sure. I'm going with "whit." How does that work for you?

So...there are more pictures...but none of them edited, and I'm writing papers that are meant to be well thought out and intelligent and all I can think of is creepy tree stories. So, obviously, I CANNOT edit more pictures at this point.

I will say this.

When I write I like to keep my google reader open and when I notice a new blog pop up...I scoot on over and check it out. It's a nice break. However, I've been writing for the past day and a half and there have been woefully few updates. Which leads me to believe that most of you are out there living your lives while I am still on the computer. Like a hermit. Not the crab.

This makes me a little nutty. So I need to go now. And finish my papers. So I can live my life too.

Coming soon...our new Christmas tree, funny comments by Becca, and why my sister hates Christmas.

Stay tuned.

hunkered down

Some of you may remember that "hunkered down" is the catch phrase for Fall 2008. We hunkered down for Hurrican Ike, and I find myself hunkered down once again enduring the storm I like to call "end of the semester yuckiness," or ETSY  for short. Do you know about the craft auction site ETSY? It's really run by a bunch of underpaid professors whose entire lives are about end-of-the-semester-yuckiness, so they solace themselves with handpainted mugs and stuffed, furry owls. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Back to me.

I'm currently hunkered down in my office. I'm near to cratering under the pressure. Last night I kept dreaming that people were waiting for me and I needed to hurry up. Like Sterling and the kids were waiting in the car, and I'm in the store trying to hand-decorate a birthday cake -- WHILE THEY WAIT IN THE CAR. And the whole time I kept trying to hurry up or think of some way to circumvent the process because PEOPLE WERE WAITING ON ME and THERE WAS SO LITTLE TIME. And when I woke up my teeth and jaw were might sore...which only means one thing: I was grinding my teeth all night. Great. By Christmas I should be down to tiny nubs.

Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?

That if I'm so stressed for time why am I writing about stuffed, furry owls?

I'm thinking the same thing. And the only thing I can tell you is...I'm doing what it takes to hold myself together.

The long and short of it is this: in about a week...I should be back to normal. Whatever that is.

focus, Sarah, focus

I hate a post without a picture. Alas, no time to take the picture, upload the picture, edit the picture, and post the picture...way too many steps for my fractured mind at the moment. I considered posting a picture already residing within my hefty archives, but the best I could round up was a jug of milk...and that hardly seemed worth the trouble of resizing. You know what milk looks like.

I'm in the very frustrating and fragile state of having much writing to do and little patience for the concentration required. I want to go into a very dark room and watch TV until my eyeballs dry out. I want to flip through magazines and dream up craft projects I will likely never do. I want to drive aimlessly around the neighborhood burning up gas that it is under $2.00/gallon.

None of those tasks require me pooling every last ounce of intellectual power that I have left...which if all pulled together could possibly light one very low wattage light bulb for approximately 7 minutes. And yet, I must pool (my resources, that is).

So pool I will...because if I'm nothing else...I'm not a quitter.

And that, quite frankly, is all I've got.

it's late

It's already 10:58 pm and I just got in from College Station about 20 minutes ago. This night class (Mondays only) has killed me all semester, and I will not be sad to bid adieu to it come next week. One more 6-9 pm meeting to go and I am DONE.

Today was registration for the Spring semester. Officially we are told that online registration opens at 5 AM, but us insiders (that includes almost everyone vying for a spot) know that it could (and has) opened anywhere between midnight and 5 AM. I tried at midnight and ten after midnight, but no dice. So, when I woke up at 2:30 to make my nightly restroom run...I figured I'd try logging in again. Nope, still not up. But when I tried for the fourth time...at 4:50 AM...BINGO. I was in and got both classes I was aiming for. And you know what? That was the last time I will ever register for a college class. That was it. It's done. Undergrad + 2 years Masters + 2 years of PhD coursework and I AM DONE. Stick a fork in me. Some fellow students were posting on Facebook that they were "sad" and "conflicted" about the finality of it all. I was all ARE YOU GUYS OUT OF YOUR EVER-LOVIN' MINDS???

CUZ I'M NOT SAD OR CONFLICTED OR THE TINIEST BIT LET DOWN. I'M MOVIN' ON UP TO .... well to prelim exams and a dissertation. But the great part is...that those parts are all about my own research and scholarship, not as much about jumping through coursework hoops.

So, I registered for two classes because I've talked this uber cool professor into letting me do a directed study project with her (think independent study) for my third class. We put together a reading list last week, and I finalized and submitted all of the paperwork today. It's to be a Neo-Victorian study...which basically means looking at 20th and 21st century novels that in some way draw upon Victorian literature. Some novels are reworkings of classic Victorian tales. Others are continuations of popular Victorian stories...like Wide Sargasso Sea tells a side story of the Jane Eyre narrative. Some neo-victorian novels are historically situated in Victorian England. Some employ Victorian realism and various narrative strategies.Basically, there is a postmodern fascination with the Victorian and I'm interested not only in the stories, but about what such a fascination says about our culture. I'll post my list later this week. I have lots of requests for book recommendations, so perhaps we could all read along together. Yes, all three of us.

At any rate, this is very likely to be the general topic for my dissertation (along with french feminisms)...which means I'm situating myself in a 20th century speciality (rather than 19th British, which was my original intent). But I'm relatively obsessed with Margaret Atwood, so I had to find a way to pull the 20th century in somehow.

And that's all the boring, academic stuff I can muster for now. I have an early call at A&M tomorrow to meet with my teaching mentor. Once I get the kids on the bus I'm going to have to drive my little white truck very fast. That little white truck, by the way, cost me $23 to fill up today. I pledged my undying devotion to lil' white right there at the gas pump...she's a thrifty one, she is.

you'll never believe this...but

I cleaned my office!! Well, technically my desk (and the floor surrounding it, and the armoire next to it). All of this--I cleaned this morning. So, now...I can set up 'Operation Write-a-jillion pages.' Surprisingly, I have a sense of the shopper's-high. I feel like I have something new, a new space, all nice and organized and, well, serene (if I do say so myself). I love serene like nobody's business.

Also today...the UVerse man came. We now have new tv (meaning new dvr) and new Internet (which does seem a mite faster). Changing our television provider (from DISH) somehow seemed important about three weeks ago. Plus, AT&T would NOT stop calling me about it. Plus, they offered me $200 cash to move over. Plus, my DISH DVR was old and having issues. But this morning, when I surveyed the mess of the long week that was scattered at my feet...and extending around me for what seemed like miles and miles...I was rather annoyed with myself for changing over our already almost-perfectly-good Internet and tv. What was I thinking?

Anyway, deed done. Now to figure out how to work the dern thing.

Have I also mentioned that I ran over Madison's bike last weekend? Becca, who has no bike of her own, poor child, had borrowed the bike and then left it neatly parked directly behind the garage door where we house the behemoth Suburban. Because I am now partially married to the little white truck (which I pretend is a mini cooper convertible) there are days at a time when the behemoth Suburban doesn't see the light of day. All of this to say that when I rammed that baby into reverse on Saturday morning and heard a loud crunch...I was ticked. And now the bike is no more. Remember? Behemoth?

Dang.

So. Today. Friday. Our day to ride to school. I couldn't disappoint dinosaur boy, so I made the executive decision this morning to ride Sterling's bike--his shiny, new, red bike he got for his birthday. Everything was great except for starting and stopping because, you see, my feet could in no way touch the ground...and should I attempt such a maneuver I would have an unpleasant meeting with an inconveniently placed bar (get my drift). However, I am now forever ruined on bicycles..his bike was fast and took a fraction of the energy to go three times as far as any other bike I've ever ridden. It's just like my momma always says, "You've got to have the right tools for the right job."

And one last thing.

Remember that rhetoric project? Here's one page of it:
   

I fashioned it to mimic a preColumbian codex...a codex that functioned as a 260-day ritual calendar. It looked like this:
 

I'll leave you to draw the comparison...and to wonder at the utter insanity of the project as a whole. 

update on nothing

I presented (and handed in) my rhetoric project today. It turned out okay...keeping in mind that I used Photoshop extensively to recreate a preColumbian rhetorical artifact. It didn't look preColumbian even one little bit, but it did look pretty cool...and cool is pretty much all I'm going for. When I get ready to look for jobs my CV will just have one large word printed across the page--"COOL." Maybe also TIRED. And SEMI-CRAZY. Can't you just see the offers pouring in?

So, I need to somehow research and write a 20-25 page paper this weekend. The task is daunting, and I'm tired before I've even begun. Normally I would expect to spend 2-3 weekends on such a task. But guess what? I don't have 2-3 weekends. So, I'll have to take the one I've got and move on with my life. I plan on being very grouchy for the next week or so.

As for tonight...if I can muster the energy I'm going to be cleaning up my office. I have a tremendous amount of work to do in the next three weeks and the chaos that is currently housed on my desk (and the surrounding floor space) makes finding anything...like books or articles or the KEYBOARD exceedingly difficult. Also on the list...unburying my laundry room.

Are you jealous of my glamourous life?

As for the Christmas update...the Christmas light guy is scheduled to come on Saturday to hang lights on 11 houses on our street. I've coordinated the whole thing. It's been planned for about two or three weeks now. Yesterday, there was a mini explosion on our neighborhood Yahoo group when a member of the deed restriction committee "reminded" everyone that no external decorations could be put up before November 26th, per some contract we signed in blood when we were drugged at the offices of the title company. However, my plan is to go out on a limb and let the light guy come anyway...because I'm risky like that.

an aging 2008

 
I JUST took this photo...it is practically SOOC (straight out of the camera). I only sharpened it a wee bit and tweaked the curves every so subtly. Other than that...this is what is living outside of my study window. We don't get alot of fall foliage in Cypress (okay, we don't get any) but this red oak never ceases to disappoint. I'm thinking of starting a grassroots movement encouraging the planting of red oaks in the Cypress area. Just as soon as I'm done with school I'm going to get right on that.

It honor of this fabulous fall foliage (say that three times fast) I tried out some new fall-ish recipes. I made Ratatouille soup that I accidentally linked to during some random blog hopping. It was so good, and using the food processer made the whole recipe move more quickly (which is a must for my style of ADHD cooking). And for dessert? Of course, none other than Joy the Baker's All-Purpose Holiday Cake. I used apples and fresh cranberries and opted for orange juice instead of alcohol (because my hubby is a big party-pooper when it comes to cookin' with booze). I dusted the whole thing with a fine sprinkling of powdered sugar and voila! yummy all-purpose holiday cake. Note to Joy: I'm going to need a better name than "All-Purpose" since it sounds rather industrial.

For the rest of the afternoon I'll be working on my "making." For my rhetoric to 1800 course I've been asked (well, the whole class really) to recreate a rhetorical practice from BEFORE 1800. I'm doing a modern take on the meso-American codex. I'm calling it modern...because it's not so much meso-American as whatever-sense-I-can-make-of-things-at-this-point-in-my-life/semester. If the end result is not too embarassing, I may post that at some later point. If the end result IS embarassing I'm going to forget the whole incident ever happened and, when asked, will deny, deny, deny.

The next three weeks are going to be brutal for me. Essentially, I need to have my papers finished BEFORE Thanksgiving since two of them are due the Monday and Tuesday we come back. The third, a shorter paper, is due on the 7th. And then...you guessed it...I'm done until January 20th. An entire month-and-half school free!!!! Weeeeeeeeee!!!! What will I do?

Ummm...put on Christmas for the kidlets. Duh.

I'm ready for a slowing down. I'm doing my very best to commit to nothing during December and January, other than absolutely necessary functions. In fact, as proof of my commitment to "being still" I have sworn up and down, crossed my pinkie fingers, and extracted three drops of blood that I will be baking exactly four gingerbread houses this year. And then I (possibly Sterling) and my four young 'uns will have a quite hour of decorating with some Christmas music playing in the background. And we'll sip hot chocolate and maybe take a nap. This scenario would be in contrast with previous years when I've baked some 20-25 gingerbread houses and hosted my kids and many of their closest friends. Not that the big party isn't fun...but my psyche is far too delicate right now for a free-for-all with cinammon candies and royal icing. Remember when I burned my hand last year?

I'll keep you updated on how the quiet Christmas is going. I'm giving it a 50/50 shot at this point.

kid stuff...

About 10 days ago I noticed that Parker had added a new "request" in his evening prayer:

"Please bless that no one gets kidnapped."

I shrugged it off because the kid has a super-charged imagination. But still, the request has continued on...every evening..."Please bless that no one gets kidnapped."

Hmmm.

So. This morning. I had one kid who walked around in shorts until the last possible second because she couldn't "find" any jeans. I don't even know what that means. How could you lose five pairs of jeans? I suspect the ones she really wanted weren't clean.

I had one kid who came to me with the unusual complaint of a "swollen face." She believed her face to be swollen to gigantic proportions on one side. I pulled her into the light of the kitchen. The outside looked okay to me. I inspected inside her mouth, on her gums, her teeth, the inside of her cheek. There was a tiny dot on her cheek which looked like a burgeoning ulcer. Dr. Mom gave two Big Kids Motrin tablets and moved on.

I had another kid who cried because he wanted me to go to the book fair with him. And who cried because he didn't want to wear his bike helmet. And then cried again when his friends made fun of said bike helmet. THEN we forgot to send money for the spirit shop. I promised to bring money up to him. But since I had already given Rebecca my last bit of cash for HER trip to the book fair, I had to drive to Walgreens, buy a Domino magazine, and select cash back from the kindly credit card machine. I took the cash, stuffed it into an envelope, and drove it up to the school where Parker will, no doubt, buy $5 worth of plastic mini footballs.

Tonight is movie night...which means we will be watching Ant Bully and ordering pizza. And, if anyone cries, I'm confiscating all of the mini footballs for myself.

as the world turns...

The past week has been a whirlwind. Once again I put in 15 hour days Monday through Wednesday, only to crash in a grumpy heap on Wednesday evening. Certainly, trying to watch the election returns while reading for rhetoric was less than satisfying on both fronts. I wanted to throw my rhetoric out the window and concentrate entirely on the incredible graphics worked up by NBC. I was mesmerized.

And, of course, I was thrilled by the outcome. Unfortunately, that initial thrill was a bit dampened by the utter disgust and fear of many around me, but I only had to zip up the road to College Station, my little oasis of liberal thinking, for some real celebrating. Since then I've read lots of heartening stories from Barack detractors, those who rooted for McCain but have chosen to to embrace Obama's message of hope and change...because really, what else can you do at this point?

As for those who are scared...and the reports are flowing in from the high school, the junior high, and even the elementary school...that kids are afraid of dying, or moving, or even, for goodness sake, being forced to go to school on Saturdays. Hmmm...that sounds okay to me. But really, since the man is to be our 44th president, spend some time learning about him. I think this article by Time on Michelle Obama is good. [There is also a super interesting article (also on the Time website) about Obama's mother.] And really, I think much can be learned about a man through the women that love and care for him. I was particularly amused by Michelle's frustration with her often-absent husband while she was slammed with jobs and political projects of her own...seems she was too tired to do the cooking as well. Aaaaahhh Michelle, I feel your pain. Perhaps we could do lunch and compare notes.

Also Obama's mother went back to grad school to get her masters degree and PhD with two kids! We're exactly alike! So, plan on Jordan, Madison, Rebecca or Parker becoming president in some 40 or so years. Secretly I'm rooting for the girls...but let's not tell Parker. Because, of course, if he became president of the United States, I'm sure I could work up a modicum of pride.

The one thing that struck me while I was reading the story of Obama's mother is this: you have a white girl from the Midwest who marries at 18 (she is three months pregnant). The marriage doesn't last and she is left raising a biracial child in the sixties. I look at those pictures of them, and the pictures of Obama with his maternal grandparents, and wonder at the difficulties they must have faced. And never once, I'm sure, did anyone look at that little black boy and his white teenage mother and say, "He's going to be president someday."

And still, he is.

for your viewing pleasure...

I've said it before. I LOVE halloween. Not just a little...a lot. Now, I used to spend hours chained to my sewing maching, whipping up delightful, one-of-a-kind costumes for my little ones. I no longer have the energy or inclination to hand construct the costumes (unlike my friend Julie), but still...even in my utter laziness...I love skulls and pumpkins and anything ghoulish. And, oh yeah, I LOVE candy.

So, check out our pics from this year:
 
Meet Commander Rex, of the clonetrooper division. He's a dangerous fellow. Didn't someone's mother say they would NEVER let their child have a play gun. Does a blaster count?

 
I'm not sure it is appropriate to call Commander Rex 'cute.' But...I think he's pretty cute...fake, moulded chest and all.

 
Nothing quite says 'friendship' like three Commander Rex[es]. They're all violent. All of their mothers need a firm talking to.

 
Ah...here is a kinder, gentler Halloween. Witches. They're not nasty. They're magical.

 
And they have some kickin', stripey tights. Becca's orange Crocs finally came in handy. Finally.

 
Some of you may recognize this look. Yes, I've passed on the emo-love to daughter #2. My mom took one look at Madison and told me to get rid of the emo gear. GET RID OF IT? NEVER! Why can't my mom embrace the darkness within me?

 
Seriously, Madison was having a good time being dark and gruesome. There is a certain freedom that comes along with it--a certain release from the pressures of conformity. Heck. I'm wearing this to church next Sunday. I. MUST. BE. FREE.

 
JJ the bird. Jordan came to me on Wednesday with the bird idea. I turned up my nose (cuz it was tired) and told her to lower her standards. I told her the idea was too complicated, too expensive, too EVERYTHING. But she struck off on her own and made the entire outfit for $16. She showed me. Oh yes she did.

 
Of course she had a partner-in-crime. Her name is R-Bird. She's also handy with a glue gun. They spend the night trick-or-treating without the ability to bend their arms. THAT was an experiment in fun, I'm sure.

 
Admittedly, a stinky picture. I totally forgot to take a picture of Pam and Cannibal until the night was almost over. They were a little singed and worse for the wear...but I couldn't forget Sterling's amazing pumpkin handywork. He rocks. And he doesn't make me help. I love that man.

The end. Let's move on to Thanksgiving. Shall we?