Exodus

This quarter at school, I've had a lighter load than usual. I thought "Oh I'm going to get so much done. So much writing, so much planning, and it's going to be an easy time."

I was wrong. I ended up spending most of my free time on Facebook and having to rush to do my grading. My students and I deserve better from me.

So, I pulled the plug. Just turned it off.

Almost immediately, I got three inquiries from friends and loved ones who were concerned about my health. That made me feel good, but it's not enough for me to turn it back on.

And I feel better. I'm getting more stuff done, like yoga, visiting with friends and attending lectures. And I'm writing more now too.

I've given this two weeks, and week one has been great. I'll let you know how week 2 goes. I may not reactivate the account.

You know, because life.

And now I have more time to.......:

Walk in the park

Feel annoyed that there isn't more snow

Brush my hair

Make breakfast!

Attend concerts (photo by permission from Canadian Brass)

Get mah workout on

And watch this guy Facebook

The New Ordinary

I both love and loathe how busy I have been lately.  It's almost 11 p.m. and I gave up grading papers because I just can't muster the enthusiasm to encourage students when I'm this tired.  And my day started early too. I've also had some insomnia lately, so I'm waiting a bit to get sleepy before I go to bed.

So those are the downsides. I'm tired and I don't have enough hours in the day.  My job is stressful and sometimes makes for a much longer week than normal-bleeding sometimes all the way through my weekend.

The upside is that I'm incredibly happy to be doing what I'm doing right now. I know teaching 4 classes is considered an overload here. I've done more. Part of me is like "pssht, y'all don't know what you're talking about".  Then I have to grade 107 papers three to four times in ten weeks. And I go "Oh, yeah. Hmm."

My work for the Dean of Student Success is also highly interesting.  It involves travel, meetings with the research folks, meetings with the committee I'm working on, writing, meetings with students, writing, research and literature reviews and more meetings.  I really think my office hours, when I meet with students, is my stress relief.

I got to have sushi for the first time in what seems like two years.  I love it.  G does not. I can't bring myself to drag him to a sushi counter where he will have a miserable time.  I invited out a former student (now friend) whose husband also does not like sushi and we had a great meal at Oyama in Ellensburg.  The chef drew pictures on our food and carved a carrot slice into the shape of a bunny for garnish.  He even made us a little appetizer and said it would help with digestion.

The food was delicious!

So if I work pretty hard, I can also take time to connect with my "kind and very understanding husband who knows that I'm a workaholic but I can't help it that I love what I do and overextend myself so he's putting  up with me".    The new mantra is that this only for another 5 weeks.

Mantra: as in "It's only 5 more weeks. It's only 5 more weeks. It's only 5 more weeks. It's only 5 more weeks."

I'm sad and happy for my friend Kim.  She was the first friend I made here in Ellensburg.  She's the manager of the office where I work.  She has literally thrown herself in front of students who try to get in to see people without appointments and she does a great job of managing people, resources and time.  She got a new job on campus and yesterday was her last day.  So I'm happy for her and sad for me. We'll still be friends outside of work- we are making an appointment for early morning coffee on Tuesday mornings- but I'll miss her constancy in my daily routine and her ready smile and our silly chats with Joy, the other amazing lady (counselor, advocate, and case manager) who offices next to me.

For now, this is the new normal. Lots of work with periods of rest and periods of insomnia from stress.  Lately it's been sleepless and I won't lie; I'm tired.  But it will get better.  Five more weeks.

In the meantime, Happy Valentine's Day. I brought chocolate and candy and gifts for students and a few sweet people I know on campus.  This weekend, we're getting away for a little romantic trip.  Not really for Valentine's day, but because we have a 3 day weekend.

Peace out.

Wednesday (Friday) Hodgpoge

This week has been a little bit exhausting.  I thought I'd take yet another page out of Nonnie's blog-book and post a Friday version of the Wednesday hodgepodge. Just so you know, Nonnie is a friend of my sweet MIL and she took the Hodgepoge from "Joyce From This Side of The Pond "  So there you go.

Feel free to read and comment- and if you re-blog, just give credit to the original poster, Joyce.

1.  According to Oxford Dictionaries, the 2013 word of the year is 'selfie'. Your thoughts? When did you last take a selfie? Do you post them online somewhere? Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind the lens?

I take selfie's mostly to see if my makeup/hair/clothing looks ok.  It's my 21st century mirror.  I post them infrequently, but I do post them. Mostly on my Instagram.  I'm way more comfortable behind the camera, though I'm sure people get tired of my landscape/cat/handsome husband pictures. 

My sister and I last summer, out on the boat. I just noticed we have the same crookedness to our smiles! 

2.  Will you send out Christmas Cards this year? If so, are they ready to go? If not, are you glad or sad about leaving that tradition behind?

I hope to get my ducks in a row and send more Christmas cards this year.  My problem is that school gets cra-zzzy until the end of the term, then it's all over.  However, it's all over around December 19th.  Cum-see, cum-saw.  

3.  Do you trust easily?

That would be no. Not at all.  It's probably just my nature.  I didn't grow up with a whole lot of cushion and while I like to be trustworthy,  it's not something I bestow lightly.  That said, if I trust you, I trust you with everything.  Lots of people are trustworthy; some just aren't. 

4. Pine-cinnamon-peppermint-vanilla (as in sugar cookie)...of those listed, which one is your favorite December scent?

Pine. I love pine trees.  They're not just for Christmas in our neck of the woods! I remember these pine trees my grandpa planted when I was little.  My cousin Ryan was just a bit taller than the tree when she was 6.  They had to cut both of them down 25 years later because of the roots growing under the house.  The trees had grown to over 30 feet tall.

Pine trees AND G! 

Pine trees + sunshine

The top of the world

Meandering canyon

5.  Did you do more talking or more listening yesterday?  Was that by choice or by necessity?

I did a lot more listening than talking.  It was a non-teaching day yesterday.  It's almost always my choice to not talk overly much.  Talking too much to others makes me tired. Especially in groups.  Man, I must sound like an old grumpy lady, but I promise I do like people. Just not in groups. 

6.  What's the last song that got stuck in your head?  Sorry if it's back there now :  )

Something by MIA.  I love the Arabic sounds mixed with rap.  I'm not a rap fan; I'm an MIA fan. 

7.  Which world explorer (in the whole history of the world) would you most like to have traveled with, and why?

I think I'd like to travel with the Vikings.  I guess they ate pretty well.  For me, good travel is all about good food. 

8.  Insert your own random thought here.

It's been a rough week.  G and I just have a lot going on and some realities we don't like dealing with. I'm really glad it's Friday and we can spend the very windy and cold weekend snuggled in our little house.  Maybe we'll write out some Christmas cards or finish our Christmas shopping!  Tonight we're heading out to see a movie- Catching Fire.  Something you may not know about me: I was given a 35# recurve bow when I was 11 years old.  I used that thing for a long, long time, bruising the snot out of my left arm, shooting into hay bales and generally being wild.  I don't know what happened to it but it was a good part of my childhood.  Also, I'm glad I never had to enter a Hunger Games. :) If I did, I'd win. 

Random 5 Friday (On Friday This Time)

It's Friday and time for my five random events or thoughts this week.

1.  I love my students, and this week I got to take a class on a field trip! I'm so grateful for grant funding and pilot courses.  This one was to the Wind Farm just outside of town.  The winds are regularly up to 40 miles per hour.  There is a local sandwhich shop and the owner, Roz, made us paninis (Ok, mine was a gluten free, vegan sammy) and sent along a panini grill. I cooked lunch for everyone.  We did a boatload of writing, had a very interesting, hour-long lecture and got to go inside one of the turbines. These ones are 220 feet tall, taller than the Statue of Liberty and there are 149 in our area.  Good times!

It was so loud, but the noise is mostly wind.  The propellers sound much smoother and are so enormous.  This is the first video I've tried to upload so let me know how it plays.

My Class

Perspective Shot

2.  I am not a morning person.  Repeat: I am not a morning person.  At least I never have been.  Maybe I'm getting old, but I used to regularly stay up until 1, 2, and 3 a.m.  Now I'm yawning by 9:15 and passed out by 9:45.  Eleanor also gets me up pretty early to feed her and give her water. She really likes routine, much like her staff.  I mean owner.  Ah, who am I kidding? I'm pretty much her servant.  It's also getting colder at night and G likes the bedroom cold. There are two comforters on the bed and another blanket.  Eleanor usually sleeps on my feet, but lately I'll wake up to her sleeping under the covers next to me- both of us purrfectly warm.  Happens every winter.  However, since she's taking Methiozole for her thyroid, she's lost the volume of her meow and the volume of her purr has increased.  This wakes up G.  Usually he can get back to sleep but not always.  When that happens, well, let's just say that I woke up extra early this morning to a kitty extraction.  He removed her from the covers, snuggled her and put her back where she belonged.  She huffed off and didn't come back for hours! 

Also, no pictures of that... 

3.  Since I'm not a morning person but a night person forced to function in society and to serve a cat, I spend a little time each week, maybe thrice weekly, at the gym.  I enjoy weightlifting and G does not. He also goes in earlier than I do each day.  So he heads to the shower and I head to the gym around 6:30.  Here's what that looks like in Ellensburg, Washington. 

"So that's what morning looks like!" 

4. Next week is my last week working at my job.  It's been a nerve-wracking and frightening journey since June. I am disappointed that even though I have a contract, my employers just couldn't come through.  I am glad they tried. I'm incredibly sad that this is happening but not sad that we came here.  G feels the same way, and says we'll be just fine.  It's so hard to let go. I'll still be teaching for the English department and they have been so, so supportive! They will put me on full time in January if I'd like, even though the pay is deplorable for people who do not have an annual contract.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all of the love and support I've experienced.  We will get back on track soon. G is terrific at his job and I'm not sure how they ever managed without him. :) He amazes me with his resiliency.  I think it's true that even though my job is falling apart, I am not as worried as I could be.  Everything else is so good.  Work is work, but my life is very fulfilling.  What's life without a little danger, right? 

Yeah, I'd still rather have some security.

5. I cut my hair off today.  I usually cut it in the fall/winter every other year but I just got tired of all the styling and junk you have to do to look good and cut six inches of my hair off.  Pictures to come soon...

Random 5 Friday

My bloggy buddy Nonnie (introduced by my fabulous MIL) inspired me today with her Random 5 Friday blog. I'll do one for you too.  For rules on the Random 5, go here.

1. Today is the day Eleanor goes to the vet for her check up.  I'm excited because I think her bloodwork will come back wonderfully.  She feels better! Her appetite is good and she's much more snuggly than she was.  I bet that's also because it's cooler outside.

2. I love that it's cooler, but I can't drink pumpkin spice lattes and it's killing me. No places serve almond milk or rice milk in their lattes- it's all milk or soy.  I'm allergic to milk and soy.  So I tried pumpkin spice tea from Stash. It tastes like warm water and cinnamon. Blech.

3.  I've been working out in the early mornings lately.  I....like it. Let me just say that I am NOT a morning person, but it's nice to get up at 5:45, snuggle with the little kitty, make some coffee and have a cup with my husband before I hit the gym at 6:30.  It was 40 degrees yesterday morning but 48 this morning with sunshine.

4. I had the opportunity to give a presentation on conflict management this week to an incoming group of freshman leaders.  The retreat was way up on White Pass, past Yakima and following the great Naches river.  The workshop went well with facepainting, discussions, group work and skits.  The drive was even more impressive.

5.  My brother in law, B, helps with a race car team.  I'm not sure if it's stock car or sprint car or what, but he's been on the pit crew for a number of years.  Besides his family and fishing, I think this is his passion.  The driver grew up around their little town and B believes in him and wants those dreams to come true.  And as it happens, there is a race in Yakima tonight and tomorrow. G and I are going to go support them and watch the shows.  Have I ever been to a car race? I don't think so. I'm not even sure what kind of cars are in Nascar or the Indie 500 or what horserace is popular this decade.  BUT it will probably be fun and my nephew, who turned 13 this week, will be there too.

Have a great weekend!

Tension

I usually handle stress pretty well. It doesn't come naturally to me; I had to learn healthy coping mechanisms in my early 30s after years of doing such a poor job that my health and other's safety were threatened.  What I do now is talk to close friends about what is bothering me, pinpoint how I really feel about it and discuss ways of resolving the conflict or problem.  I accept love and support and only occasionally just bottle things up.  In times of stress, I pay extra attention to my physical health and what I eat and tend to get a little more close mouthed than normal. I get lots of exercise.

That's what I've been doing since last week.

There's an acronym for taking care of oneself. It's HALT.
Whenever you're
Hungry
Angry
Lonely or
Tired,
stop what you're doing because you need to do some self care.  Make your bed, take a nap or go to bed.  Things always look better in the morning.  Find a friend and quit isolating yourself and talk out the problem. And for goodness sake, eat something. In other words, when you've got those symptoms, halt and pay attention. You're no good to anyone else if you're not taking care of yourself.

What with my food allergies and my doctor's inability to help me figure out exactly what causes my digestive system to freak out, I'm waiting for an appointment with a gastroenterologist.

In the meantime? I'm stressed.  Like STRESSed.
My contract at my job runs out today and I'm not at all convinced that I will be retained.  It's not that they don't want to keep me here, it's just that nothing has worked out.

In January, I interviewed and was offered a tenure-track position in English Education.  Do you know how rare that is? My boss wrote me a letter saying that I would be retained and I let the opportunity pass. It wasn't in Washington, where I want to be.   And since I'd begun working at the university last September, I'd met regularly with my boss.  He assured me things were progressing.

Indeed, we got the funding for the position they wanted to create for me.  My contract ran out at the end of June, but was extended until August, and then again until September 15th.  In the meantime, I was encouraged to apply for a different position- one I felt really enthusiastic about.  That's how things were two weeks ago.

Worried, but trusting.

So I interviewed. I waited.
I was scheduled to meet with the dean for the position I applied for.  The secretary said he was meeting with all the candidates.  That screams "you didn't get it", in case you didn't know.  And I didn't get it.

I met with my boss again. He said that I was also out of the running for the position they created for me.  Another department had gotten control of it and wanted someone with Oracle experience and wouldn't budge on that.

Ok.

So we met again on Tuesday, and my boss pitched me two options.  I was like "those are ok options, but my contract expires Friday."  He said he knew that and would get back to me.

It's too late this year to apply for faculty positions. It's far too late to get another job.

That brings us to today, to right now.  At almost noon on Friday.  My kind, sweet, supportive husband is awesome but I'm still pretty tense.  I worked out extra hard this week and got enough sleep and company and discussion.

I'm pretty sure that all of the stress management in the world isn't going to help until I hear something.

Wish me luck! *crosses fingers*

******************UPDATE***********************
My boss isn't in today. There is no contract that the secretary knows of in the works.

Oh. Well then.

****UPDATE #2********

With 15 minutes to spare, the department secretary (who I just adore) called to tell me that they are extending my contract another month.  On the positive side, I'm glad to be employed. On the negative- what the hell are they going to do with me?

Sometimes She's a Lady

This concrete sculpture under an overpass was lit with rainbows at night

I think of karma as the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  It's really important.  It makes sense that even though your loved ones share your angers, vulnerabilities, joys, concerns and frustrations, they should also get to benefit from a little grace.

This was highlighted for me last weekend on a trip to Seattle with G.

We stayed at a nice hotel in Belltown

While there, we decided to visit Uwajimaya, which is sort of an Asian indoor mall/supermarket. Great food and fun shopping. One of the things I love about Seattle is the variety of people and experiences there.  I saw small blonde children expertly eating with chopsticks, heard both French and Spanish spoken and enjoyed a crowd of people with a neat vibe to them. There was kind of an excitement in the air.  We found a quiet corner and had yummy Thai food for lunch.  Crowds are neat but they make me tired so I get to take frequent breaks.  

After that, we moved the car to longer-term parking and went to the Wing Luke museum. I think it's second only to the Seattle Art Museum. Amazing tour with a knowledgeable guide, an area for discussion of social justice and equality and good history as viewed through the eyes of those who lived and continue to live it.  

And G lost a bunch of cash.  

Yeah. It was an accident. The case was "just in case" money and not something we carry around with us regularly.  But he had it in his pocket with his keys and when we moved the car... gone. I'm hoping that someone with good karma, or someone who really needed it, found it.  Because we looked and it was gone, gone, gone.  

I got an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like angry awful. And a little desperate.  If I'm really honest, I also felt relieved that it wasn't me who lost that money because my sweet husband was quite upset about the whole thing.  Not really about the money, I realized, but about how upset I'd be.  Yes, it's distressing to lose something. But what's worse is when you have to tell someone about how you screwed up.  I hate that feeling and I had this moment of clarity about how I could help him feel better.  

G: How angry are you right now? 

Me: I'm a little upset. 

G: What can I do to make it up? 

That's such a hard question.  There's just no answer to it.  It was just bad luck and nothing would bring back that cash.  

Me: How would you react if I just told you the same thing? 

G: I'd say it's just money and we shouldn't let it ruin our trip. 

Me: Let's do that. But I want cool wife points. 

G: Ok. 

And like that, it was all ok. We enjoyed the museum, some dinner and a quiet evening.  

Pretty little fountain- You can see loaner bicycles in the background

Hardcore relaxation

Yup, Good Karma

G in his natural environment

I enjoyed eating at Black Bottle in Belltown

The next day, we planned to meet my friend Matt at the Zeitgeist Coffeehouse in Pioneer Square.  I love that place with it's sort of hipster vibe and not just rice milk, but almond milk too.  At the front, there was a man in his 60s ordering a sandwhich. He was well dressed and extremely demanding.  As the cashier took his order, he tried cajoling her to do special things for him, like adding tomatoes to his food and an extra shot for free, promising to come there often. His use of familiar terms and inability to stop directing her got on my nerves. Plus, every thirty seconds he asked for something else on top of his other demands. 

Finally, the other cashier asked him to step out of the way so that we could order.  I asked for my almond milk latte and the man thought it was ok to step into my space to talk to me about how he and his wife drink almond milk now too. It's so much healthier. 

I don't drink almond milk because it's yummy. Yes, it is, but I'm allergic to milk AND soy and I don't have much choice.  I wanted to say "There is something about your face I don't like.  Maybe it's because you think you're so important."  

But I didn't.  I just turned my back on him and he talked to G instead.  So we got our food and sat to wait. 

Matt didn't show up.  

And it was my fault.  

I'd miscommunicated with him and he was expecting us out in Ballard. It took an hour and a half to get there, through Seattle traffic, a protest and a bridge closing, at which point I jumped out of the car while G parked and talked to Matt for 8 minutes until he had to take off. I'm blaming Facebook and its message system.   

What a cluster****.  

Me: How mad are you right now? 

G: Pretty mad. 

Me: How can I make it up? I mean, there are lots of things to do here... 

G: Give me a minute. 

###

A minute goes by of quiet contemplation and me sitting quietly on a bench.  

G: Ok. I'm cool.  Let's have a good day. 

Me: Really? This isn't a passive aggressive thing? You're not going to be angry later?

G: Nope.  This is what good karma will buy you. 

He meant it. He got over it and I got over it and we had a great afternoon. We even had a fantastic restaurant experience with Puerto Rican food. I was really sad to miss Matt, especially since he was the one who invited us to the locks.  Hopefully I'll plan better next time. 

There was an outdoor sculpture

Bunches of salmon- this is the underground fish ladder viewing spot

The locks were the most interesting to me. We watched for hours.

And this- THIS is a jasmine tree. Oh my gosh....

In working on the locks, people need to not fear falling. That's a museum in the background

Did I mention that the fish would jump clear out of the water?

So yeah, karma. Sometimes she's a lady.

Everyday Housewife

Much of my adult life has been spent in search of an in maintaing a semblence of normality.  When I was younger, life life was chaotic. Chaotic childhood, chaotic adolescence and the shifting sands of moving and settling in and moving again.  Somehow I managed to maintain a few friendships and I decided in 6th grade that I didn't really need to make anymore new friends since the new town we'd moved to was probably a stopping place anyway.  Except that I spent the next 8 years there. Shoulda made more friends.

My daily routine when I was 22 and living in Port Angeles, Washington revolved around work and my social life. I'd get up around 9, go jogging probably twice a week, get a shower and go to coffee.  I had learned to make friends again by then. My little group hung out at Pete's Pancake House (it's now a glassblowing shop) and we'd chain smoke, sip coffee, order breakfast or french fries and talk forever.  Nobody had cell phones. It was 1994. I'd go to work at 3 and get off at 11 at the local Red Lion Hotel. There were days for laundry, days for driving my 77 Thunderbird across the state to see my mom and grandparents, occasional days for dates and lots of comforting friendships.  There was a lot of rain. I also lived by The General Store in PA, and often went to the little coffee stand out front for a 4-shot latte. Those were good times and lean times, sometimes filled with sun but often fraught with worry and care.

When I was 32, I lived in Norman, Oklahoma.  My life was consumed with school and work. I'd get up at 8 and be to work at OU by 9, edit, read drafts and give fellow graduate students advice on their papers, take some healthy piece of food with me and a protein bar.  I rode my bicycle everywhere and lived in a small 4-plex just three blocks north of campus.  I ran 5 miles several times a week and had a jogging buddy.  On Sundays, I would go jogging, drive the 127 miles to Tulsa and work out at my dojo, then teach a yoga class there, then drive home.  I would often be up until 3 a.m.  There was a small group of animals that regularly visited my house at night- six cats, an opossum and a small skunk.  I fed them.  My life was exhausting, and I struggled to find meaning and my place in the world.  My ex-husband drove by my house every day for years-hence the jogging buddy and the dojo. I felt haunted.

Now I'm looking at 40 next month. I walk to work every day that I possibly can.  I don't drive much anymore and our family only has one car. We don't need two. I'm married- still newly so- and we live in Washington. Life is simple. I teach and do research. It's cold in the winters and so far, it feels like it will warm up for spring and summer. Grey keeps us healthy and does a lot of the cooking. After work, I walk home and we go work out at "The Gym" down the street. They're nice people. On weekends, we go to Seattle, we stay home, we visit small towns nearby.  It's a good life. It's not where I thought I'd end up when I graduated from high school over 20 years ago.  I'm not sure that we've actually "ended up" yet. I just can't predict how life will go.

I used to think this would be me: Married to Glen Campbell. 

Just kidding. I thought I'd make a good housewife, that I'd settle, that I would somehow be noble.
Turns out I'm not that.

I was, for a time, this.

Now, I'm this.

Have a good weekend.  The farmer's market starts back up on Saturday, so you know where to find me.

Happy/Disappointed

I have written about this before, but I want to summarize for my readers and bring everyone up to date.

Waaaay back in May, I applied for a job in Washington state, at a small state university.  They needed a person to run their developmental writing program.  They enthusiastically invited me out to interview, and I did my research and - to quote the Dean of Student Services - blew them away.  Well duh.  This is what my doctorate is in.  My experience working with special populations coupled with my best friend and I putting our heads together resulted in a pretty darn good day of interviews and a decent public presentation.

So then I waited.  And I heard back the day before I got married, while driving with my mother (who had flown in for the wedding) in the Oklahoma heat to go get some hamburgers.  Ok, I was getting fries; she was getting the hamburgers with my friend Charlotte.

I didn't get the job.  They hired the incumbent and said that what I would do was probably too much for what they needed.  Worst compliment ever.  But, said the Dean (who I will now just call "Dean"), I have this idea to bring you here to work on my grant and then in the English department for a year until I can find you a permanent position.  I'll let you know in a week.

My Cousins, Baling Hay at my Granparent's Place

Nice compliment!

So Grey and I got married and went on our honeymoon.  At his parents house on the way back (I truly enjoyed the visit and yes, we visited my in-laws on the honeymoon.  We be cool in valuing family) I got another call saying he could make it happen.  Just wait a week to get the contract together.  That was the second week of June.

Today is August 3rd.  We have been married 2 months and a day.  We get to cohabitate and are enjoying it.  Someday Grey is going to yell at me for any one of the stupid things I do, like leaving socks on the floor or not cleaning out the kitty box often enough or waking him up too, too early on a Saturday.  But no, nothing so far. I keep waiting for him to have a strange habit that drives me crazy.  But no. We like walking and talking and hiking and eating healthy and not watching television and having a glass of wine once in awhile.  It's a nice life, one I didn't expect would happen for me.

But still no contract.

My Favorite Part of the Year!

The way universities work is this:  A job is created, posted and filled. One the candidate is selected, a contract is sent, outlining the terms of the agreement, length of appointment, compensation and benefits.   If amicable to both parties, the contract is signed and it's a legally binding proposition.  A job offer is nice but not legally binding. It's two people spitting on their hands and shaking.  It's certainly not something that Grey should quit his job over and not something that I would put my house up for sale over.  Of course, contracts usually follow within a couple of weeks of an offer.

But this time it's taken over 8 weeks.  All I have is an offer.  If I got a contract today, I would need to sell my house, ask my husband to quit his job and find another in Washington and move both of our households within a little less than a month.

I didn't want to, but I had to give a deadline for the last date I would be available.

This came from conversations on those long walks with Grey.  I am pretty much a push over.  I trust people and if it were just me, I'd have already packed, sold the house and left by now.  But it's not just me and I am no longer that portable.  So I told them I needed the contracts by Wednesday.  Did I say "contracts" in the plural?  Yes, I did.  Aside from actually securing grant money and figuring out what classes to ask me to teach, there was a question on how many contracts it would take.  Since I would be working in two different areas, one of which is a grant, it was decided two weeks ago (after the single contract was ready) that I would have to have two contracts.  Then it was vacations and what it boils down to is that the people who got the grant money won't let someone have that money to administer.  The English side got me the contract the day I needed it.

Dean never got me a contract.

In fact, last night around 7:30 I got a text from him saying that the grant side of the contract (while it is forthcoming) wouldn't be ready until next week.

"I am very sorry," my letter will read, "but I have simply run out of time and cannot accept your job offer.  Perhaps next year when a secure position is available..."

In the meantime, school has started again and I quit my public school teaching job.  It would not have been fair to keep them on the line and I did the right thing in dealing squarely with them.  Grey put me on his insurance.

So far, this has been the only real source of marital strife.  I gave them way too long before I gave a final date that I could accept the offer.  Grey also thinks they have handled me poorly, offering me a different job than what I interviewed for, for less money and with no guarantee of more than a year of employment.  I really wanted this; having been grieving the loss of this chance for the last week.  I'm sure I've been a peach to deal with.

I'm disappointed.  This year I won't get to move to my beloved home state or enjoy the cooler climes.  I won't get to take Grey hiking or skiing or for weekend trips to Seattle.

It doesn't mean never though.  You don't just fall in love with a job and get married to it.  You fall in love with a contract- in this case, I never even met it.

I have so much to be thankful for right where I am.  Good friends, a home, good health all around and a terrific husband who is just crazy enough to move someplace he has never been because I want to, and grounded enough to insist that I insist on being treated fairly.

Oklahoma isn't a bad place.  My friends are here and I am more or less infamous in these parts.  :)

And you know, I can find a job.  As I have heard and said so many times before, "Ain't nothing but a thing."  I'm disappointed; true.  But I'm happy because the really big things that matter are still in place.

Matrix

Apologies, but today this is more of a diary entry than social commentary. I just need to catch my breath.

My life is a series of matrix scheduling nightmares. Right now I've got three overlays going on. The first is my work schedule, then my school schedule and finally, my general exam schedule. Make that four overlays. I need recreation and food and sometimes, sleep. Let me break it down for you. And yes, I still maintain that I am the busiest lazy person in the world.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning, without fail, I get up between 5:00 and 5:15 in the morning. I refer to this ungodly and heinous time of day as "Oh-Dark-Thirty". I am not pretty and I am not good smelling and I am not in a good fucking mood. Just your basic monster. Pretty sure I'm the conception of what your kid thinks is hiding under their bed. I could bite the head off of a bat. If I managed to shower the night before I can get up at 5:30. I leave my house at 6:30 and pick up my commuter at 6:35. He is usually late. I have left him twice. If I don't get on the road by 6:45, I will be late and I just can't do it. We grunt good morning and he promptly falls asleep on the drive. I put in my iPod and motate down I35 at lightning speed, then turn on 59 and head East. It's a back country road, no doubt. But there just isn't a main thoroughfare to Ada, Oklahoma so it's the backroads. I blow through Wayne, OK with no problem. Around Rosedale I usually hit a bit of traffic- a farmer out to check on cows. Either I pass and we wave or I just wait and know he'll be turning to the side of the road and into a field.

It's Byars that's a problem. There's a bar-cum-breakfast restaurant where all seven of the locals hang out. I like them. None are younger than 75 and they wave as I go through. It's called Gigi's. I'd like to stop in for some breakfast if I get up early enough. I go the posted 35 through here, not because I've ever seen a cop, but because there are lots of loose dogs around. Some sleep in the street. Others meander aimlessly. I don't want to get an alignment.

There is also an assortment of other four-legged critters in this town which seemingly eschews the whole idea of barbed-wire fence. Twice now, I've seen a mule hanging out, walking towards Gigi's for some biscuits and gravy. It's more common to see the cows outside the suggestion of a fence. Several homes on Main street sport horse pastures and one had a deer strung up on the front porch. I assume he was part of the winter menu. I'm all for that. You could sell him to a local organic shop for lots of money as organic and free range. Hormone free. But I bet the family would rather eat him and I don't blame them a bit. Deer meat is one of the only meats that this vegetarian will completely devour. Anyway, that's Byars. I zooooom on through 59 and eventually make my way to 3E which takes me the final 13 miles into Ada.

In all, I've driven 72 miles before 8 a.m. when I teach my first class. My first class is at 8 a.m. It's a Comp 1 class, just like my 9 a.m., my 10 a.m., my 11 a.m. and my 1 p.m. class. I have an hour break for lunch but rarely take it since students continually need help or want to come by and talk. Hey, I dig it. I like students who come by to shoot the breeze. My 8 and 9 o'clock classes, I'm not sure if I'm teaching or not. I make coffee when I walk in the door at 7:45 and drink it through the first two classes. Usually by the end of class everyone has shown up. I wake up and the sun comes up and lately I've been thrilled to death, seriously relieved, that the time changed happened and I get an extra hour of sleep at night. I sleep better and am not exhausted in the mornings. Anyway, my 10 a.m. class always makes me laugh and I feel perky. At 11 o'clock my students and I go skipping into the class and everyone is raucous. They talk over each other and over me and I talk over them and we take the noise levels down and up and sometimes lose focus but bring it back to center again. And the students range from 18 to 40 so there's lots of rich discussions from multiple perspectives.

So there is noon, and I have lunch. I usually bring ramen soup and heat it up. Sometimes it's just a protein bar and once in awhile, I'll walk over to the Student Center and buy lunch. Meet a friend, talk to my kids and go outside for the first time that day. More often than not, I don't see the outside until after my 2 p.m. class. I've got 2 women in that class that regularly show up and 14 men. It's what my colleagues who have observed (there have been five observations- a story for another day) a "sausage fest". Testosterone poisoning for sure. I was walking in today and caught the tail end of a conversation about how I might be older but I'm still hot. I wear loud shoes for a purpose. Figure it out. I tangle with overgrown boys for a bit and pack up to leave at 2. All of my classes are very funny and sometimes thoughtful and sometimes insightful as heck. One of my students felt excited at the prospect of doing primary research so he packed up his country self and went to Oklahoma City to interview two homeless people- a male prostitute and a woman who had lived on the streets for over 20 years. I didn't know he was doing any of this. He left his id and money behind and slept in a park that night. He said it totally changed his perspective. Right on, brother!! Three others recently attended a counter-protest against the Hillsboro Baptist Church. Even though the protest, six WBC members and over 1,000 counter-protesters ended in two slashed tires, none of my students reported knowledge of that event.

We are to leave promptly at 2. My commuter never shows up until 2:05 and sometimes 2:10 and once at 2:45 but I yelled at him. I almost apologized after that but I was very grumpy. I should've apologized. It's not too late. I might. But by then the coffee has worn off. I am tired and stick my iPod back in and sleep on the way home. The best thing about a commuter is that he's willing to drive home. We always take my car but at least I get a nap. I think this is the reason I am still human. It's another 72 miles home and we arrive at 3:20ish.

That's my work day for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tuesday and Thursday, we head out at 8:05 (8:10 due to lateness) and I keep office hours from 9:30 until 2. Then it's out again. I use the time to plan, grade papers and take care of the administrative crap that comes up. This Friday, for example, is East Central's Inauguration for the new president. This event, which I am required to attend, also requires me to order and pay for regalia to wear. Thanks. Regalia never, ever looks sexy, in case you wondered.

I love my job and what I'm doing. I'm lucky with administration and coworkers and students and the latitude to do what I need to in the classroom. It's overall pretty wonderful. I could only wish for two things: A window and some way to control the temperature. It's an office without any a/c or heating at all. Oh, and a pay raise. I'd like to be able to live on what I earn.

So that's work. I also take two classes the University of Oklahoma. They are my final two classes, ever. Strange to say but it's true. I've taken everything available in English Education and most other departments too. I love being a student and hope that this never ends, even as I finish a terminal degree. But on Wednesday nights, I get home from class, check the dog and cat and eat something, then go to class from 4:30 until 7. It's a teaching language class and I like it. I began my doctoral studies with Dr. Angelotti and he is my dissertation chair and closest adviser. I've written poems about his nose and shared with the class. It sort of goes on forever and at the end, hooks a little to the right in order to catch his reading glasses. He calls me a loose cannon but he's smiling when he says it and if I had an Italian dad, it would be him. He's in his 70's and thinking of retirement. Nobody will fill those shoes though. Not in my mind.

My second class is a curriculum theory course taught by the toughest professor in the College of Education. She got to where she is now, which is a very respectable place, by clawing her way through the patriarchy in a time when it was unpopular to do so. I like and respect her and always work hard. It doesn't take much to earn her respect either- just do what the fuck you're supposed to in the class and it will all be ok. woe to the unprepared doctoral student. I've seen her reduce grown women to a simpering mess. I make people laugh in the class and add some levity. Somehow she permits that and I enjoy being a nerdy clown. I think, in the process, I also help others to understand what she's saying. Critical pedagogy, after all, is a passion of mine. That class runs on Thursday from 7 until 10 p.m. and I turn around and get up at 5 the next morning for work. Friday is a sleepy day for this little muffin.

Then there is the debacle of my general exams. Did I mention that I adore my chair? Yes, well, he's also forgetful. There are new rules in the last year about when you can take your general exam and how long you have with your three questions. It used to be a semester and indeed, others in the College get longer. Then it was cut to three months, then four weeks. Your three questions are created by your committee and are to be answered in your finest academic prose with lots of "Probst argues...Freire comments that..Postman postulates..." and so on until you've effectively written only about 50% of your own thoughts. Pretty dry, but you can get through it. Like anything, academic writing is a tool that works better with practice. Lots of students were procrastinating and then putting off the exam until the next semester so they would have longer to work on it. Our department decided that students would get only four weeks with their questions, two weeks for revisions and then would orally defend to a committee.

My adviser forgot about my general exams.

Forgot. For two weeks despite my best reminders.

And I had half of the severely abbreviated time to do this. Clearly, though, it was communicated that the 50-60 page requirement would still be expected. You know, because I have nothing better to do.

Oh my freaking God. I did it. I wrote it. I texted my best friend constantly and probably annoyingly and had my battle buddy, Kim, work with me. She was in the exact same boat since we have gone through the program together every step of the way. That's her, to the right. We met at the library each weekend and on Fridays. We commiserated and wrote and whined and got kicked out of a room by the security guard wanna-be. I wrote at home and got up in the middle of the night and my house started to look like it threw up on itself. I sent my dog to my friend's house so he'd get fed regularly. One of my committee members hated my dissertation topic (one of the questions) but I sent it to my chair and he approved of it. So I only used very recent materials in the discussion. In all, I put in about 50 hours over two weeks, in addition to the stuff I normally do, just to get this in on time. I drank ginormous amounts of caffeine. I don't worry about my house because the neighbors next door with all the crap in their yard are awesome and keep an eye on the house for me.

And I did get the work done. I turned in about 50 pages, an hour and a half before the deadline. Now to wait for revisions. And don't worry, I'm setting automatic timers to call my chair to let him know when stuff is due.

Despite the rodeo that is my life, I do still have a lot of fun. I get time to write, which must be true since you are sitting there reading and I am here writing and together we make a transaction between writer and text and reader and meaning-maker. So I get to write. And I have friends. Really damn good friends who have been patient with my schedule this semester. I remember vaguely that I went to a Halloween party and that once I stayed over at Val's house when her husband was out of town. I run too. If I can't run or do something active at least 3-5 times a week, then I feel all out of sorts and bloaty and cranky and life just has no meaning. So I have been running. Not more than 3-4 miles but enough so that I feel like I've worked out. And there's yoga in the morning and a class on Monday nights. Amazing stuff, by the way. My yoga teacher uses a mixture of yoga, Chi gong and muscle activation techniques. We do some things that make the giant lump that used to be my rhomboid relax. Check out Thomas if you get a chance. And go to his classes. He's great.

Eleanor is hanging in there. She's a champ. At 14, she's now more literate than any other cat I've ever met and has more reading strategies than most people. Here's proof:
Big, the dog, lived through the experience. He escaped from my friend's house and ran home, across town, to our house.
Once I finished most of the work, I brought him home with profuse thanks for keeping him alive and walked. I love having him home. I get up in the morning and give Eleanor her tummy medicine- which she gets three times a day plus a pill for arthritis- and say good morning, rub his tummy and smooch his fuzzy doggie face. We went for a walk first thing when he got home. He goes off leash and we go around a huge field. It's a mile in circumference and by the end he and I are both content. But that night, he found an adorable kitty to play with. One with a big white stripe down its back. The rest is history.

So that's the story of my life lately. I'm tired from writing, though it's worth it, this effort. In a few weeks, class will end and the world will shift a little and I will change with it. Especially since I'm trying to rent out my house to move to Ada so I won't have to commute. That AND I won't have to teach until 11 on any given day. Whew! But then I'm writing a dissertation and doing research and getting settled and applying for jobs and so on and so forth. Life will slow down. Later.

Much later.

Good night, Moon.

Maybe I'll be a Farmer

Farming is hard work. It's dusty, at times, especially if you don't have an air conditioned John Deere with an mp3 player or at least an iPod. You gotta get out there at the ass crack of dawn, till up earth, fertilize, plant, spray, water, spray, harvest and care for the earth by leaving it fallow for a time too. Farming doesn't really come with a retirement package- at least the farmers I knew back in the day didn't talk about their 401k's or what have you. Often, family farms get incorporated and then more benefits like insurance become available and more affordable. "Vacation" doesn't happen in the spring or summer, or even in fall (that's hunting season, after all). Vacation happens in winter, when the ground is resting.

I'm not sure I could be a good farmer. I can barely grow tomatoes. Even following around my brand new zippy, 5 miles per hour self-propelled Craftsman lawnmower for the 45 or so minutes it takes me to mow now is just dizzying and repetitive. I get no sense of satisfaction; just a note that the chore is finished for the week and that the grass is shorter than it was. I get excited about potted plants and strawberries. And my fruit trees which I fertilized last week. I think farming, growing seasons and all of that work make me long for winter. Of course, growing up we had sheep giving birth on the coldest, darkest night of the year. Nothing like being awake at 3 a.m. on a school night while your prized ewe takes her time doing what she needs to do. I do miss all of the county fairs, FFA, the smell of the livestock barns at 7 a.m. and Mountain Dew before hitting the show ring. Ah, good times. I was a pretty good showman once.

There have been a lot of changes lately in my life. I took 3 classes this summer- insanity by grad school standards- and taught a course. It went quickly. I accepted a one year lectureship at a small university 70 miles from my house and I'll commute this year during the week. I bought a little miata for the drive because it gets almost 35 miles to the gallon. If I'm lucky, I may have a shot at a permanent position out there, depending on whether or not I finish that degree on time, or in a reasonable amount of time. I've got two classes to take this fall, my general exams to pass and a dissertation to prepare for.

My friend Steve is taking a vacation to the Pacific Northwest. I gave him my thoughts on Seattle and he camped out in Mt. Rainier park. Lovely place. I miss Seattle. Steve commented on the teeming mass of humanity that moves quickly from place to place, never meeting or acknowledging one another, seemingly disconnected from each other and from nature. Swathed in electronica, virtual communication takes the place of face to face and he wonders where he fits in the grand scheme of life. Does it matter what we do or how we do it? How can we make life meaningful in the short time we are here? Steve also noticed how in the most beautiful places, older people resided there and younger people rushed on by. He doesn't want to wait to grow old to realize the important things, to enjoy his life.

I can't fault him for that. I have felt rushed and cramped and sometimes on a wild joy ride these last two years. One more year left, and maybe a summer. Then I insist that I slow down for a bit. I look forward to just one job and time to develop my writing more. I'd like to publish a book- ok, two books. One of poetry and one fiction novel. I have one more week off before the semester hits. I have to use that time to wrap up all of my loose ends and get my syllabi in order. I'm taking two classes, writing my general exams and teaching five classes. And commuting. And I still have a dog, a cat, a home and a boyfriend, most of which like to be fed and brushed.

So you could see how sometimes farming or ranching would seem the way to go. Life may not be much simpler. You worry all the time about money and weather and wildlife and the price of wheat fluctuating. I'm pretty sure I'd find a way to multi-task. Maybe write poetry on the back of a tractor, or post blogs after offloading bales of hay. Come to think of it, I'd make a pretty crappy farmer. I wouldn't be able to kill other plants just so mine could grow. Equal opportunity farming, I guess. I like to sleep in past 4:30 a.m. and might die of boredom after driving in circles for 18 hours straight, field to field, line by careful and linear line. Maybe what I really want is to have more time, to *take* more time to just stop, inhale deeply and be grateful for what I've got. Isn't that what it's all about anyway? I hope so, because it's the best that I can do today.

Wisdom

I was asked a question recently about being a graduate student. I became a grad student in 2002 and have pretty much lived in that mode ever since. Did I have any wisdom about living this life? Did I have something to pass on? The implicit question was much more like "how do you live on next to nothing and still concentrate on studying with an empty stomach and the threat of not having a place to live the next month?"

First a disclaimer: I'm not wise. Yeah, no. I run around most of the time finding the parameters of my world by bumping into things, stubbing my toes and occasionally, unknowingly, breaking glass ceilings. I think that last part is imaginary or wishful but hey, it's my blog.

But I do have some reflections on being a graduate student, if you'd like that. I'm getting pretty good at it. And by now I owe the government more than I could possibly pay back. The writing is worth something though.

First, you have to pick a profession. If you're doing a master's, you can be sort of fast and loose. Professional writing is close to English is close to English Education. At the master's level, much can be forgiven. And it's easy to take cross-curricular courses. Take things you like along with things you have to take. And don't be a morning person. Nobody likes a sunny bitch. I try to never be anywhere before 10 a.m. For the first year of my doctoral degree, I taught late in the mornings and then took my grad classes at night- the last one got out at 10 p.m. If this doesn't sound like fun, you may be an overachiever.

Make sure you look at the gradweb website- this is the line in the sand for the graduate college. The graduate college is run by people outside of your discipline who enforce rules set down by someone else outside of your discipline. Pleading, threatening and bribery don't work: I suggest you pick a strong advisor and sick them on the college. And meet every single deadline, or else.

Coffee is my friend. I've been sucking bean since I was 11 years old. I can still remember the shaking in my hands and the pulsing of caffeine through my body and every nerve ending sang an electric Bob Marley Star-Spangled wail. There was nothing like that feeling. It helps me to contextualize my studies. If I'm drinking coffee when I read or write or discuss a particular topic, it's likely that I'll remember it later when I need to; and it's likely that I'll be drinking coffee then too. For instance, I took a thermos of fresh-roasted nicaraguan with a bright high taste to every one of my statistics lecutres. I had a cup this morning when we met as a group to work on our final project. I would argue that smell and taste memory helped my recall as much as having my friend Tracy sitting next to me while we worked. Of course, this means that I can never give it up. Ever. EVER.

Poverty is as cultural as it is economic. This is true. Most of my students think I'm a middle class white chick. Some who have little or no experience in the world think I might come from a well-educated Northeastern family. It's hard to tell that I grew up very poor and that I continue to live a slightly lower middle class existance. I had to teach myself the culture and lifestyles of the middle class in order to assimilate. For instance, where I'm from, we say "Did you get enough to eat?" and that's a hallmark of a poverty-class family. Getting enough to eat means there has been bounty- either in hunting, fishing, gardening or from just plain hard work for money. In the middle class, you might be asked how something tasted. There will be more detail on quality and spices than on quantity since it's more often taken for granted that there *will* be something for supper. In affluent classes, the empahsis is on presentation and style- do the settings look right and was there a visual component that appealed to the diner?

The culture of a graduate student is one who exists often between those classes. We appear one way- as aspiring intellectuals who eschew worldly concerns like paying bills and tending to the care of our families, homes and lives. These things are rarely if ever drawn into conversation with one's professors and even among other graduate students. Funny how the person with whom you take so many classes never told you that they have children, or that they had to move because they couldn't afford the rent where they lived anymore or that because there is little available in the way of health insurance, they can't go to a chiropractor and that their teeth are slowly rotting out of their head. But at home and with families, the shroud of mystery surrounds and alienates the student. We have to fill our other roles as providers, housecleaners, dog walkers, child nose-blowers, and care givers to our families regardless of their composition. And we worry. We worry constantly about money, about schedules about paying bills and paying student loans and if we're ever going to to on vacation again. Our significant others may wonder when the economic nightmare is going to end even if they are completely supportive of your ideals. It just takes a toll after awhile. You become schizophrenic- swarming any seminar on campus that gives away free pizza during the week and then being expected to whip out some specialized vocabulary and insight into solving the world's problems at dinner parties on the weekends. My strategy is to find a sugar daddy who can afford to take you out to dinner once in awhile. I'll let you know how that works out. In the meantime, it's top ramen half of the time and greek yogurt when I can afford it.

I save money on groceries and things in a number of ways. Some even help the environment. It's way cheaper to roast your own coffee than to buy it in the store. I shop the farmer's markets and am growing my own garden- this experiment might be good or bad. I'll keep you posted. I buy frozen rather than canned food for the nutritional value and the cost. I cook at home a lot and eat out less- never eating fast food. Fast food is gross. Eww... but that's a post for another day. Plus, I'm becoming a decent cook. Poor Luke isn't a vegetarian so he's stuck living off of salsa and avocados. I do offer to try meat but I make this yuckyface when I eat meat and I think he finds it unpleasant. Oh well, tofu-bacon it is. There are free days for lots of activities, like the Okc Museum, Fred Jones Museum of Art, the zoo and many other places. If you're cute, you can also talk your way in for free. Ahem....so I hear.

Oh, and if you are lucky enough to get a graduate assistantship that teaches, be careful. They make assumptions about my salary, my position at the university, about who I might be (sometimes that's the red-haired bride of Satan), and how they hell they can get the best grade out of me. I'm lucky to be a teacher of some years. I don't run into the same problems as my younger and less experienced counterparts. Although I do very much like to bounce my student challenges off on others. Don't get me wrong; I get stumped just as often as anyone else. They're just more technologically and intrinsically stupider difficulties with teaching.

There are a lot of distractions at home. First off, lose the cable bill. I haven't had cable for 13 years now. I like television. No, I love television. When Luke moved in, he brought a 56" big screen television. We use it from time to time to watch Netflix. If I have cable, I won't do my homework. But I know I shouldn't bring my homework home anyway because there are too many lovely distractions here. I have to clean the cat box. I need to walk the dogs. The garden won't weed itself. The dishes are dirty; I can't possibly do that research paper while dust gathers in the inner corner of the liquor cabinet! Augh!

Oh yeah, and about summer and winter breaks: you don't get paid during them if you're a grad assistant. It sucks, but put back money and be regimented about it. I'm lucky to get a summer class to teach. Of course, I'm crazy enough to take 3 classes and teach 5 and take three in the summers. For the spring semester my load was equivalent to about 24 hours. The norm for English students is 12. And I still got all A's. However, I wouldn't recommend this to anyone who has a significant other of any kind. Luke would help me with things just to be able to spend time with me. Once he wrote out all of my household bills and I just signed the checks. I have no idea if they were right but everything got paid on time.

One of the most important parts of grad school is having a hobby, preferably related to physical activity. Seems counter-intuitive to engage in activities not pertinent to adcademe, but believe me, this will save your sanity. I run and do yoga. I walk my dog. I keep a blog and am writing to my grandma every week since she's in a nursing home. Training a mind in only one direction may seem like a good thing, but it's the diversity of existance that will ensure survival when the insanity of end of semester work kicks in. And walk away for a week every semester to clear your head and rejuvenate, even if it's just to go camping. Just trust me on this one.

The best thing a new graduate student can do is find balance. Balance between interesting studies and a personal life separate from work. Balance between starvation and overabundance. Between giving everything you've got to your studies and everything you've got to your other obligations and finding time for yourself. Balance between chateau briand and buttered rice. Between friends who understand exactly the context of what you say when you're discussing the intricacies of progressive era politics and education a possible future for teaching in the U.S. And before you know it, you'll be standing in a silly, floppy hat with a diploma, wondering what the hell you're going to do next.

Hey, got a question? Some topic you'd like me to write about? Shoot me a text at mindied@gmail.com