We'll Saturday-spend until the end of the day. . . .

May 7, 2011


Saturday morning.

A time for languishing in bed, getting up at whatever time you want, beginning your day on your own terms. . . .

Unless you live in this house.

Yesterday, while waiting for the annual switching of the tires, winter to all season, Stephen was reading through the Daily Gleaner, Fredericton's excuse for a newspaper.

However, this time there was actually an item of interest.

Every spring, the City of Fredericton sells composters.

HUGE composters for a very, very reasonable price: $35.00.

When we first started purchasing them, they were $25.00, but that was a few years ago and prices do increase as time moves forward.

And this year, they're selling "kitchen catchers" little bucket like, lidded containers in which to place your household compost until you're able to get it outside.

Lids are good.

I love compost. But it stinks. And attracts fruit flies. So lids are very, very good.

Of course, the sale of these goods is on the Northside of the city, and from here that isn't exactly next door.

And of course Stephen wants a kitchen catcher.

As do I.

My former mother-in-law has the exact same kind the city is selling.

Very, very helpful little do-dads.

Stephen wants one.

I want two.

The sale starts at 7.30.

A.M.

Therefore, as logic would dictate, Stephen would be in no way able or willing to get out of bed early enough to ensure he was able to purchase said kitchen catcher.

Meaning this morning, at 7.30 am I was driving across the Westmoreland Street Bridge.

Alone.

Not even a drop or dribble of coffee coursing through my veins.

Languid Saturday mornings?

Apparently not for me.






Another seven pounds has said adios.

Honestly, I was a bit disappointed.

It had been about a month since I had been able to get to Simply for Life for my weekly weigh ins.

Exams scheduled for 9.00 am Monday morning, Easter Mondays, the beginning of Intersession, and something else I can't remember, prevented me from being able to make my weekly Monday morning appointment.

Hence, for the month of May, I've switched to Friday mornings.

And had my first Friday appointment yesterday.

I was thinking that at least ten pounds would have been shed.

But seven is good.

I'm not denying that.

However, for an entire month?

I thought ten would be doable.

There were some challenges: Easter, Dad's birthday, etc. lead to situations that may have resulted in me eating something or other I perhaps shouldn't have.

So I am happy with seven pounds.

But not as thrilled as I had hoped to be.

Bringing the grand total to so close to 70 pounds that I can see the fine hairs on it's cheek.

And I know that's an accomplishment.

My summer clothes, all from last summer, are too big.

The bits and pieces I've been picking up are not yet able to cover my still ample bottom.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm not running around naked.

I haven't had to go there, yet.

A shopping trip for some inexpensive shorts may be in order.

I just don't want to buy something that I know won't fit in a couple of months.

Just seems like wasting money to me.

But baring my ample backside to the general public?

Probably something I should avoid.






This morning is the first in two weeks that I haven't had to go to work.

A euphoric feeling indeed. 

I may not have been able to lay in bed, but, I do not have to go to work.

I can work at home.

Go for a walk.

Do some yoga.

Hang laundry on the line.

Sometimes, it is the simple things.

Kitchen composters.

Hanging laundry to dry in the sunshine.

Listening to my ipod while strolling through the streets of Southwood Park.

Enjoying the day for what it is.

And not what you think it should be.



Title Lyric: Come Saturday Morning by The Sandpipers

Then there was rain. . . .

May 6, 2011

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Halleeeelllloooojah!

 

My grades are in, my grades are in, my grades are in!

 

For a moment, just a moment, a euphoric feeling overcame me.

 

Intense pressure lifted like storm clouds when the rain has passed.

 

(Which, as an aside, that doesn't seem to be happening here. Anyone have a spare rowboat?)

 

I think it must be the same feeling students experience when exams are done, papers are in, classes are over and all they have to do for the summer is work.

 

But like all good feelings, it passes, and come September, the students are anxious for school to begin.

 

For me the good feelings end Monday.

 

When one of my intesession classes hands in their first assignments.

 

Let me savour this feeling for the short time we're together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rowboat reference wasn't a joke.

 

So much rain has fallen in little Fredericton, New Brunswick that flood alerts have been issues and in some places, roads have closed.

 

Especially those roads closest to the Saint John river.

 

Or Saint John Ocean as it should be called these days.

 

Every spring flooding occurs.

 

The issue is to what extent will flooding occur.

 

Three years ago the river flooded to such an extent that schools were closed, power was out, emergency measures kicked in. . . .

 

But was live at one of the highest parts of the city.

 

As evidenced by all the hills that must be manouevered in order to get to our humble abode.

 

Plus, our house is at the peak of the hill.

 

And every spring people email or message us about flooding.

 

And every spring I give the same answer.

 

If we flood, the entire city will be underwater.

 

Just call us Altantis. 

 

Now that doesn't mean we aren't water-logged.

 

Because we most certainly are.

 

There is a small lake that appears at the bottom of our yard, the space that moves into the neighbours' backyard, behind us. 

 

I think I saw ducks in it yesterday.

 

A couple of deer.

 

Beavers gathering dam making necessities. 

 

Just a little sunshine.

Please.

Not asking for too much.

Nothing as crazy as temps over 25 degrees C.

And intense humidity isn't necessary.

A little sunshine to facilitate the illusion that perhaps we won't all require scuba gear by the end of tomorrow. 

I also recognize that things could be worse.

For several summers during my youth I worked at a day care.

Nothing set the stage for a bad day faster than rain.

Being stuck inside with however many dozens of children is not among the happiest recollections of my teenage years. 

So hats off to all those mothers who've been inside with their children for the last several days, taking refuge perhaps in the mall or movie theaters as a means of escape.

I've been there. 

You will survive.

Intersession can be challenging for those who live with me.

Not only am I exhausted after teaching a three hour class in the morning and then another three hour class in the afternoon but. . . .

I have the car.

Which means that Stephen is home all day with no means of escape.

Outside of his feet that is.

Stephen is still marking, so there shouldn't be escape opportunities anyway.

Nonetheless, by the time I get home, he is ready for the opportunity to get out of the house.

And away from the dogs.

Who LOVE that he is home and express their canine joy in all sorts of ways that make Stephen want to duct tape their muzzles shut.

Which he would never do by the way.

Because the consequences, meaning me, would be disasterous and life altering. 

Last evening, after he made supper. . . .

. . .something for which I was MOST grateful for as I had the energy to maybe slap peanut butter between two peices of bread. . . .

. . .and Em did the dishes. . . .she is such a lovely child. . . .

Stephen decided he would go to the grocery store to mail his mother her Mother's Day card and pick up a bottle of ferrous sulfate, an iron supplement I am supposed to take every day and haven't taken as I ran out and had no time to get more if I wanted to get my marking and grading done.

Two things.

Mail a card.

Get iron supplement.

Oh, and a bag of the gluten free chocolate chip cookies Em likes, because after eating them she doesn't feel as if her insides are revolting against her.

An hour later Stephen returns home.

Ferrous sulfate.

Check.

No cookies because they were out.

We'll check later this weekend.

Card mailed.

Not. 

Even.

It's still downstairs on the counter, a vibrant green envelope that couldn't be missed unless you've been diagnosed as legally blind, addressed just waiting to be mailed to its destination.

The question, then, is what did he come back with?

A six pack of Coke and a box of Ivory Snow.

In addition, I heard the clinking of bottles. . .a sounds that makes me think a liquor store stop has been added to his travel itinerary for a couple of bottles of red wine.

I've stopped trying to figure out the mysteries of Stephen's shopping.

I need to use my brain powers for good instead of evil.

Mother's Day this Sunday.

Another restaurant family dinner.

Pray for me.

Title Lyric: Rainy Day by Coldplay

Yet another Wednesday of things I haven't done. . .

May 4, 2011




I survived Monday's chaos.

And Tuesday's decisions, decisions, decisions.

Some of which were much harder than others.

And others that will have real repercussions if people can't be honest with me.

We'll have to see what happens in the very near future.

Times like this I wish I had ultimate control over the universe.






Settling into the Intersession routine has happened without too much difficulty.

At least for me.

Stephen and the kids. . .well, that's another story.

The day is packed, and there are not enough hours for me to get done what needs to be done, or see who has to be seen.

9.00-11.20 in the morning.

1.00-4.00 in the afternoon.

Sometimes meetings during the 11.30-12.50 break between classes.

Meetings with students at the end of the day.

Home.

By 6.00 if it's a good day.

Husbands, kids, dogs, dinner. . .

Maybe, just maybe a half hour to watch the news or just sit on the couch and do nothing before going to bed, reading for a bit and then falling asleep usually before finishing the first page.

I always forget how demanding intersession is. . .both physically and emotionally.

I don't even have the energy for yoga.

Shocking, I know.

Maybe tonight if I can get home before 5.00.

Because, of course, I am still marking my 1006 papers and exams.

Of course I am.

Plus I insist on reading through my honours student's thesis one more time before it goes for binding.

Or maybe get Stephen to do it.

Hmmmm. . . . .fresh eyes. . .

That may be a plan.

Bottom line. . . .I am holding on until June.
With my finger nails.





Crime and Film this afternoon.

The Postman Always Rings Twice.

John Garfiled and Lana Turner.

Yesterday was Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger in In the Heat of the Night.

I do love this class.

No matter how tired I am at the end of the day.


Title Lyric: It's Already Wednesday by Freya

Now let me untie these knots. . .

May 3, 2011


And it starts.

The inevitable.

Unavoidable.

Intensely frustrating.

Grade grubbing.

Students who feel that they have been wrongly evaluated.

Students who feel that they deserve an A grade for C work.

I typically don't get a lot of this, so when I do, I find it intensely irritating.

Not everyone is an A student.

Simple as that.

And no one should expect grades that do not accurately reflect the quality of their work.

Yes, I am a hard marker.

But, I am a fair marker.

There is a definite sense of entitlement among students.

The idea that they should get high grades "just because."

Just because they put themselves in a group with people who don't work and then they get upset with me, expecting that I can or am willing to do something about it.

I love teaching.

I really like my students.

But don't grade grub.

Because there is always the chance that instead of getting better, the grade could change for the worse.

And it is just ugly.






One of our fallen computers has returned home.

Whole and ready for work.

It was very, very stressful, on the one hand, not having an at home working computer this weekend.

I certainly didn't enjoy being at work from 10-5 on Saturday, and 10-3 and 7-10 on Sunday.

But there were positives to our state of internetlessness.

Especially noteworthy was that Stephen actually came to bed with me Saturday and Sunday night.

Normally, I go to be several hours before he does, as he stays up tooling around on the internet.

Much of which, granted, is work.

But much of which is also listening to and watching youtube videos of music from the 60s and 70s.

He was getting up early in the morning, awake, refreshed and ready to greet the day.

This alone is enough to make me contemplate getting rid of the internet at home.

But then there are the kids to contend with.

Maybe when they've all moved out.

I'll get rid of the cable and the internet.

Muuuaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaahhhhaaaaawwwwwwww!






Yesterday was crazy.

Morning class from 9-11.20.

Which had it's share of issues.

The lamp in the projector wasn't working, so we were forced to move classrooms.

And then the network went down, which meant no access to any of my word documents, powerpoints, etc, meaning class was interrupted again when I had to dash back to my office to retreive my jump drive hoping that my powerpoint slides were saved on it somewhere.

Queen of Organization, I am.

Right after class, home to meet with Annette-the-most-amazing-dog-trainer-in-the-world (http://www.barkbusters.ca/) in an effort to kickstart our flagging attention towards the atrocious and unacceptable behavour of the always formidable Frankie. 

Frankie who almost ate our neighbour Sunday evening, as I was out, Stephen fell asleep on the couch and in his dazed and confused state didn't put Frankie in his crate before answering the door.

Frankie doesn't like the door.

Especially when there are people on the other side of it whom he does not recognize.

Our meeting with Annette was an opportunity for Stephen to vent his well founded frustrations with Frankie.

Frankie's incessant need to bark at every single thing that blows by, walks in front of, drives past our house.

His explosive reactions to any dog, cat, person, child, box, garbage bag, he encounters while watching the world go by from behind his dog gate in the back of the car. 

Something must be done. 

We have strategies.

Back to the university for my afternoon class, which thankfully suffered none of the technological difficulties of my morning class. 

In fact, my Crime in Popular Film class went very well.

The day's feature was a little known 2005 film, Keeping Mum with Rowan Atkinson, Maggie Smith and Patrick Swayze as the greasy American golf pro.

If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.

Highly.

Immediately leave my afternoon class to pick up my laptop from the repair shop.

Home to change for yoga, collect Stephen and head downtown for a much needed hour and a half of stretching and bending and breathing.

Then off to Victory for meat and veggies, up the hill to pick Em up from Driver's Ed, and then to the polls to vote in yet another Federal election. 

It was 9.00 before supper was over, the dishes done, dogs out and our bottoms were able to plant themselves on the loveseat.

I managed to watch the nauseating election coverage for 30 minutes before I had to leave the room.

Oh, Canada, what have you done?

A Harper majority government?

Don't come crying to me when it all goes to hell in a handbasket.



Title Lyric: Frustration by The Mamas and The Papas.

As I crawl out of the abyss. . .

May 2, 2011


I am still in the process of clawing my way out of the abyss.

The marking abyss.

Friday evening, sitting on the love seat, making my way through the group papers of my advanced methods class.

All weekend, in my office Saturday and Sunday by ten am, leaving only to eat and get groceries before the kids started eating one another.

In addition to my valiant efforts to end one term, was the preparations for the next term.

Beginning in 13 minutes.






Because the weight and strength of all the marking just isn't enough in my life, we had to deal with a major catastrophe.

BOTH computers in our house, at least the ones Stephen and I use, decided that they'd had enough of our increasing demands and our insistence on neglecting their needs, and both just quit.

Okay, Stephen's quit several weeks ago, and we had been making due by sharing my laptop.

And then Saturday morning, while waiting for Keith and Em to get ready for work, planning my next blog posting, my little laptop that could started refusing me access to the internet.

THE only page I could get insisted that I pay $60.00 for an anti-virus program.

And when I didn't, it just stopped working.

Now, the irony in all of this is that Stephen had been using the laptop far more than I had.

Stephen used his own desktop far more than I ever did.

See a pattern?

Consequently, my laptop is, right now, on its way to be diagnosed and repaired.

Hence why I had to spend all weekend at work.

Because grades can only be submitted electronically at this university.

Also, because when things are in chaos, what's a little more added to the boiling pot, Em had a paper due Monday.

A paper that needed to be researched, typed, printed.

All things requiring a computer.

So, Saturday, after she finished work, I dropped her off at my office to work on her paper while I was with Mum.

Sunday, after grocery shopping and supper, she and I returned to my office so she could finish her paper and I could finish my syllabi for today.

Intersession is a necessary evil at this point in my life.

However, the benefit of it is that I can test out new material, try out new films, in preparation for the September term.

Which is why I was in here last evening until ten pm.

But, Em's paper was completed and printed.

My syllabi were completed, printed and copied.

June.

I am holding on until June.






I did manage to get to the nursing home Saturday evening.

Not in time for supper, but at least for a visit.

I took marking with me.






At this moment, I have one set of exams and papers, for my intro crim last, remaining.

Meaning that tomorrow evening, I will be marking, marking, marking, and every other evening this week until it is all done and the grades are in.

Just in time to collect the first set of assignments from the intersession classes.

June.

I am hanging on by my fingernails until June.

Or at least until yoga at 5.15 pm.



Title Lyric: I Am the Plague by Pest