October 29, 2011
All I can do right now is hope that today turns out to be nothing like yesterday.
Which was, simply, a shit show from start to finish.
The entire day was spent waiting for the Aliant people to come and install fiber op cable.
Me sitting at the kitchen table, marking papers (a loosely defined word I'll discuss in more detail momentarily) looking every time a car came around the corner of our little U-shaped slice of the world.
Hoping each and every time that the vehicle shattering the peace and quiet of the day was the Aliant van carrying inside it the Aliant person who would install our fiber op internet and release me from the confining quarters of the kitchen table.
How come the kitchen table, you ask?
What was preventing me from sitting upstairs at the computer which would have made for a less stymied and stunted day?
Frankie.
Because our little Frankie does not like the introduction of new people into our humble abode.
Meaning I needed to see the Aliant van at the same time he did in order to get him inside his Frankie hut before they, yes, Tikka in tow, reached the front door and were treated to a full blown Frankie meltdown.
Hence the sitting at the table.
Thinking that I'd spend the day marking crime and popular films papers while I waited, making the day at least productive in some ways if not in others.
I hadn't accounted for an additional intrusion.
One I couldn't have accounted for simply because it wasn't within my range of experience, as I don't often work at the kitchen table during the day.
Apparently, Dibley and Jasper enjoy my company during the day, when they are all full of desire for love and attention from me, whether I have anything to do or not.
I never realized that they were brimming with such affections.
And it explains how come Jasper would rather bounce off the walls during the evening than sit in my lap for a cuddle.
Regardless, they were determined that I was going to get as little work as possible completed.
And given that I marked one full paper, and two pages of another, I'd say they were pretty successful in their mission to render me ineffective.
In addition to Jasper's insistence on lying against me, his back to my belly, head resting in the crook of my elbow, purring louder than a freight train and periodically lifting his head to request a "nudge," Dibley laid directly in front of Jasper, on top of my papers, also purring but not so much in the mood for the exchanging of physical affections.
Stephen was taking the pictures.
Because if I couldn't mark papers, I certainly wasn't in any position to take pictures.
Moving them was futile.
Because they would just slide back into their default positions, looking at me as if to say I'd lost my mind as they weren't going anywhere.
And clearly they weren't.
I did manage to wrestle free my arm and get the camera from Stephen, giving me the opportunity to take a bit more of an up close and personal of my two little intruders.
Which did nothing to encourage them to consider shifting positions.
And of course Frankie wasn't at all pleased with the turn of events.
Not able to actually get on the table, he has to make his presence known in other ways.
Pawing.
Always a pleasure.
And he is so good at it.
Luckily, Tikka was content to lay on the floor, happy in the knowledge that I was at home, in the kitchen, and not at work, in my office or classroom, far away from her.
We've been working together for a long time.
She knows my routines.
And she doesn't like having her picture take.
Even after all this time.
In addition to waiting for the Aliant person, I was also on pins and needles because I needed to get to my office to complete a SSHRC (Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council) letter of appraisal for a former student who was applying for funding during her doctoral research.
I'm not sure of the actual amount, but it's somewhere around $20,000 dollars.
A lot of money to be sure.
And after reading her proposal, I couldn't think of anyone more deserving.
But she wasn't going to get it if my letter didn't get to her, in southern Ontario by Tuesday morning.
Just when I thought I was starting to become more organized.
Further, these letters are not the kind of letters you could write on letterhead, at your leisure.
There are letters that have to be written and submitted on a specific form, in a specific font, each letter the exact same size as all of the other letters submitted with all of the other applications.
SSHRC is nothing if not organized and perhaps a bit anal.
By 3.30 I couldn't stand the waiting any longer, so I called Aliant, only to be told that my appointment had been changed to the following Friday.
You can imagine what resulted from hearing that.
To say I wasn't pleased is to say that the Titanic took on a little water.
And when I was finished doing what I needed to do to ensure Aliant was well aware of how I felt about their shoddy operation, I left the house, gulping the outside air like a child locked in the house for a week with an illness.
Once I had my fill of nerve calming fresh air, I headed for the high school to get Em.
Next stop, Starbucks for a coffee that was needed if I was to get a well written letter completed at lightening speed.
Nonetheless, it was still 7.30 pm when I arrived home, Em in tow, bearing Subway for my love, an apology for not being home when he arrived, for being cranky and miserable to him when we spoke on the phone, and mostly for being the reason we missed the play we had planned on attending.
At least I was able to get the letter out with a guarantee that it would be where it needed to be by Tuesday morning.
And as I was leaving the postal area located in Shopper's Drug Mart, I noticed a 2 for $10.00 discount dvd bin which held inside it a copy of the original 1969 copy of The Italian Job with Michael Caine and Noel Howard.
A much deserved treat for living through a frenetic and frantic day.
Title Lyric: Waiting for Someone by Jann Arden
October 28, 2011
Friday morning.
Overslept.
Instead of up at 5.00 am, as set by the alarm clock, I was awakened by the dulcet tones of my loving husband informing me that it is now 7.00 am and was I going to get Em moving for class?
Nice.
My first response was, whaaaaaaaaaaaa???????????
Then, a little more coherently but perhaps in a somewhat whiny tone, "I set the alarm???? What happened?"
Apparently in my haste to set the alarm last evening, I inadvertently set it for 5.15 pm instead of am.
Hence why I was still sleeping at 7.00 am.
I rushed into Em's room to inform her that I'd overslept and her response was, "that's fine. I was up doing homework until late because I had to work."
I wasted all that good panic for nothing.
Instead of jumping in the car to dash off to work this morning, even though I could work at home as I am not teaching, I am grounded to the house.
Me and the dogs.
Waiting for the cable guy.
Stephen has apparently signed us up for fiber op cable.
Even though I'm not convinced he actually knows what he's signed us up for.
It costs a bit more, but a Facebook query has only provided positive results, so we'll go for it.
But if it isn't all I am expecting, we'll be returning to our regular scheduled programming.
As soon as the cable guy is gone, I am off to work to write and send a reference letter that should have been written and sent days ago.
I have no problems agreeing to write reference letters for some students.
But not for all.
If I can't write a letter that is positive, I refuse to write one at all.
This week, I had an email from a student I had 11 years ago asking for a reference.
I had to decline.
Even after looking her up on Facebook I couldn't remember who she was.
And normally, I am good with faces.
Although to be fair, 11 years ago I wasn't exactly performing at my peak.
Peak psychosis maybe. . . .
Agreeing to write them isn't the issue.
Actually writing them is.
I don't use form letters.
Some people do and that's fine, but I prefer to write letters that directly speak to the skills and promise of my students.
Meaning they take time to craft.
And then write and rewrite.
Some years, I have reference forms for countless students.
One year I was at work until after one am writing, printing and enveloping them.
So when I am finally able to get into work, once our house is retrofitted with the latest and greatest in fiber op cable, I'll write and fax the letter.
Just in time.
This evening, we're attending a play downtown, written and produced by a friend of ours.
I can't remember the last time I attended a play.
And on a Friday night no less.
Almost makes me feel like a real grown up!
Title Lyric: Letters to You by Finch
October 27, 2011
Another day that began at 5.00 am, had me arriving at work at 7.00 am, and now I am just 25 minutes shy of heading to my final class until next Tuesday, when everything will begin again.
How is it that after years of wanting to be into work during the wee hours of the morning, when I am at my absolute best, I am finally able to get into my office when I am ready, and have the added bonus of getting a primo parking spot?
Negotiation.
In the end, the key to attempting to meet the needs of the members of your family in a manner that ensures that one person isn't doing more than they should.
I asked Stephen if he would be willing to drive Madame Emily to school Tuesday and Thursday mornings, freeing me to get into work and prepare for my day with ease.
As opposed to the arriving at 9.00 am because Emily is not the fastest person in the morning making me harried and cranky in my frantic hour preparation for class.
Stephen was more than amenable to the suggestion, as I would still be doing three mornings a week.
The mornings when I don't have to teach.
I have plans to teach an 8.30 am class next year.
Because Em will be in university, with a vehicle of her own, and I will be here and able to introduce students to the exciting world of criminology.
I can't be the only person who finds the early mornings productive.
What have I been doing that requires the full and undivided capacity of maximum brain power?
Marking.
I have some colleagues who say they leave marking for they are not at their peak.
An activity to be relegated to the times when their brains are not functioning at full capacity.
Like during the commercials in between television programs.
Or something similar.
I can't do that.
Although there are days when I wish I could.
If I ask my students to work on something, even if they choose to not work at their best, I still think I need to work at my best.
So I have been trying to stay on top of the marking.
Not let it get away from and build up momentum like a snowball rolling down a very steep hill.
And let me just say that I am holding on to that snowball, but just barely.
Tuesday were the research questions.
Yesterday and today, the introduction to crim midterms.
Tonight, tomorrow, the weekend, crime and popular film papers just in time to get the research question rewrites and put the first crime and popular film quiz online.
Just another day in the life of an ordinary crim prof who thinks someone should make her a sign for her door that says this:
Title Lyric: Early in the Morning by B.B. King
October 26, 2011
Happy Anniversary to my mum and dad! Married 48 years!
That alone is enough to celebrate.
Being with the same person for 48 years.
Celebrating the quality of that relationship is something all together different.
Sunday was my last official day of rest and ever since then I have been playing a frenzied game of catch up in an attempt to complete the tasks I was supposed to complete before I was rendered immobile by the bug-that-Stephen-got.
Monday was re-reading a short monograph I'd assigned to my intro crim class. . .a book about how homeless street youth disengage from street life.
Interesting, hard to read, taking me back to times when we were struggling harder than we do now to make ends meet.
However, because Monday is a non-teaching day, I was able to work from home.
I like working from home.
I work. Absolutely. If I didn't, I'd march myself into my office.
At the same time, I am able to accomplish some of the tasks that elude me when my days are spent chained to my desk or performing for my students.
Like making broth for soup.
From the chickens I was able to roast because I was actually home to put them in the oven to give them the time they need to roast.
As opposed to my attempts at flash roasting.
Further, being home allowed me the time to fill the bird feeders.
When I was actually thinking that they needed to be filled.
Instead of thinking it while in the middle of a class or meeting, and hoping that I'll remember it when I get home.
Which I never do.
Our two bird feeders have proven to not only provide entertainment for the cats, which one would expect, but for the dogs and myself as well.
Whodathunkit.
After filling them Monday morning, I was treated to the birds enjoying the abundance of seed and such available to them at their perusal.
The very bossy blue jay who just assumed that the feeders were there for him and him alone.
And didn't find it inappropriate to move from one to the other with immunity.
While watching this blue jay and being able to capture him or her on film. . .
. . .something I never thought I'd be doing if you want to know the truth. . . .
was wonderful and relaxing, the squirrels proved to be more than entertaining.
For me and in particular for Frankie.
As soon as those birdfeeders were full, the squirrels were all over the front yard.
One managed to knock the tall, thin birdfeeder off the street, spilling some of the contents of the feeder on the ground.
Seed sprinkled liberally on the ground is nothing if not an enticement to the neighbourhood squirrels
Squirrels with cajones the size of basketballs and who have figured out that a barking, whining, frantic Frankie behind a window is a Frankie not to be concerned with.
Even ignored.
Which does not sit well with our Frankie.
Who fancies himself king of all he surveys.
But how can you not marvel at the creativity and ingenuity of the squirrel in search of sustenance?
After sleeping all weekend, reading, photographing and roasting Monday, Tuesday was all work, all the time.
Beginning at 4.00 am.
Me at the kitchen table, steaming cup of coffee beside me, and a stack of research question assignments from my intro qualitative research methods class.
And Jasper.
Who assumed that my early morning presence at the kitchen table was to love and adore him without prejudice.
Impeding the marking process in a manner I hadn't anticipated.
But he is just so damned cute!
Nonetheless, it was challenging trying to correct grammar and spelling while maneuvering around a rolling cat, enticing and inviting you just love him, pet him, kiss his little nose, rub his ears and listen to him purr in such deep, melodious tones you thought you were being serenaded by Barry White.
Serenading aside, the grammar and spelling in these papers, along with the failure of people to follow simple directions was disheartening.
I just don't understand how people can make it to university without a rudimentary understanding of basic grammar principles such as how to use commas, the purpose of a semi-colon and how come you shouldn't end sentences with prepositions.
Not to mention the differences among there, their, and they're; your and you're, it's and its.
I can't imagine submitting a paper with run on sentences, incomplete sentences, all indicative of a failure to proofread.
Simply reading the paper before you hand it in.
Imagine.
So I spent the class explaining to them how come knowing how to write is important.
That it isn't just what you're saying, but HOW you say it that's equally as important.
Presentation.
Of course, I'm no expert.
A quick read through of my blog would hightlight more than one mistake.
But making mistakes and knowing how come their a mistake and making a mistake and not being able to identify it are two very different things.
Part of the problem?
Trash television that emulates the illiterate.
Title Lyric: The Mississippi Squirrel Revival by Ray Stevens
October 23, 2o11
The last two mornings with Frankie have been nothing short of horrific.
With the presence of the birdfeeders and the introduction of Cat TV also comes the Cirque du Soliel: Squirrel Version.
A variety of arrogant and acrobatic squirrels arabesque and plie and jete all over the birdfeeders in a quest for winter sustenance.
Driving Stephen and Frankie mad for completely different reasons.
Crafty squirrels torment and torture Frankie knowing that he cannot get them, no matter how long and loud he barks.
How often he stands at the window crying.
How many times we ask him to please stop.
Until, that is, it is time for him to go outside for his morning ablutions.
So hyped up on squirrel hate he is almost unmanageable.
Hence I've resorted to taking them out one at a time.
And checking for the squirrels before I even think it's okay to take Frankie beyond the confines of the house.
But these squirrels should be commended for their audacity.
Meaning I'll get pictures soon.
As in right after I refill the bird feeders.
Sick.
I am sick.
Although evidence suggesting that the pathogen infesting Stephen had made its pilgrimage to my previously healthy corpus, as early as Friday, I chose to ignore them.
Because that is what I do best.
Ignore things that attempt to impose any level of slowing down to my life.
However yesterday it was apparent that I had lost the I-will-ignore-you-battle.
Sitting at my computer at work, after dropping Keith off for his double shift at the theater, looking for an obscure reading for Stephen, I was forced to conclude that I was sick and there was little I could do about it.
Such knowledge has done nothing to put me into a more pleasant state of mind.
Nonetheless, I found Stephen's document.
Returned home.
Only to be reminded that I had promised a movie with Em, who had a rare and almost unprecedented Saturday off.
Paranormal Activity 3.
Em and I have made it a point to see all of these films, which are indeed scary without being gory.
I've concluded that these films are working backwards and eventually there will be a Paranormal Activity 15 and all the pieces will fall into place.
Either way, it was a 90 minute reprieve from the knowledge that I am sick and neither end of me is safe.
I am so not looking forward to the next couple of days.
Although if there is a moment, no matter how short, where I am feeling able, I will be out for a walk this afternoon.
The remainder of the say was spent in bed or in my spot in the living room watching movies.
Bridesmaids with Stephen.
Some people felt bad that he was forced to watch this film with me.
They should know he laughed out loud and was entertained thoroughly.
Thus the purpose of the film was successful.
And then because it's almost Halloween and therefore AMCs annual FearFest, Em and I watched the 1995 Village of the Damned.
A terrible film.
Amusing.
Christopher Reeve's last film before his horrible accident.
A slim, trim and always smoking a foreign cigarette Kirstie Alley.
Filled with cold meds, I was unable to stay awake until the end of the film.
Meaning I was a little surprised when I woke up this morning in my bed, Stephen snoring beside me, Frankie cramping my legs with his insistence upon laying as close to me on the bed as humanly possible, wondering how I managed to get into bed in the first place.
Not the first time I wondered such a thing in my lifetime.
Albeit certainly many, many, many moons since I wondered such a thing.
And that this morning, for the first time this season, the weather network had their 24 hour snowfall report up.
For Thursday and Friday.
Not much.
Enough to panic those people without snowtires.
Like us.
Finally, let me just end with saying that I am really enjoying Ted Danson on CSI.
Title Lyric: Wakin' Up in Vegas by Katy Perry
