Out in that freezing weather. . .that November. . .

November 1, 2011


The oddest transition occurs between midnight October 31st and 12.01 am November 1st.

All of a sudden the hallmarks of fall seem to disappear overnight, replaced with the worst of the worst.

Christmas decorations in the mall.

Not that there haven't been early warning signs that the consumerism that has overtaken Christmas has started the settling in process.

But once November 1st hits, malls, shops, stores, kiosks in every mall across the western world bursts, perhaps spontaneously, into full Christmas plumage.

I detest the mall, shops, stores, kiosks at every time of year.

But during the Christmas season?????

I'd rather rake leaves in a snow storm wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.









This morning I did something I do about once a term.

Get up, get dressed, go through all the motions of the morning, drop Em off, late because everything has to be as it always is, get to my office, settle in my chair, turn on the computer, and realize, at the moment of sitting, alone, while I wait for my computer to get itself moving, that I feel like crap.

Not the feeling-like-crap-but-I-can-still-function, but the feeling-like-crap-and-if-I-am-lucky-I'll-have-enough-energy-to-get-home-without-crashing-the-car-crap.

Like all my energy, drive, desire to do anything more strenuous than sleep was sucked out of me and replaced with lead, held in place by mind blowing pain.

Meaning the computer was on long enough for me to send an email to the vp academic about cancelling my classes before I shut everything down, retraced my steps to the car and return home to happy dogs, a bewildered Stephen and most of all my bed and jammies.

Most of the time I can handle the pain, the cramps, the headaches, even work through it.

Obviously.

Because if I took off days from work every time I felt like this, I'd of been unemployed a long time ago.

But every once in a while, I experience such pain that lying in bed is about all I can manage.

Provided the no one rocks the bed, makes any sudden movements, or jumps on me for kisses and hugs.

That would most likely be Frankie, just to clarify.

I crawled out of bed long enough for some soup and to email one of my classes that was supposed to meet today to give them something to do in preparation for Thursday.

I have one more email to send to my 4.00 class.

Keith looks at me and says, "you're THAT professor. . .the one who gives you something to do even when class is cancelled."

Yes, Pookie, yes I am.

And proud of it.









We had only a few goblins and ghosties last night.

As the kids in the neighbourhood grow up, the numbers of candy seekers at our door dwindles every year.

Last night, I took first distribution shift.

Parked at the kitchen table, journal articles to read in front of me, cats cavorting all over them doing their damnedest to prevent me from doing anything more productive than ministering to their every whim and desire.

Emily beside me, Wuthering Heights in front of her, asking me all sorts of questions in her effort to make sure I didn't manage to read much of anything.

Stephen upstairs with the hounds, our strategy for preventing any mishaps with trick-or-treaters.

We traded off in an hour, Stephen becoming chief distributor, while I worked in the office, Frankie under my desk, Tikka behind my chair.

Which was the only point when I was actually able to get anything accomplished.

Until around 9.00.

When the miseries that I would ignore for 12 hours started.

But were strong enough to convince me to get myself into bed.

So I did.

And now, I'm going back.

At least until Em gets home.



Title Lyric: That November by Carrie Underwood