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Archive for the ‘Whatever’ Category

I don’t want to think about how long ago I trumpeted proudly about my Fitness Goals and assured you and myself that by putting them on the internet I was guaranteeing that I wouldn’t fail this time. I don’t want to think about it because I have failed in the failingest kind of way, obviously.

I have started back up again, because I have a modest goal to meet. I want to look better in my wedding dress for our second anniversary than I looked in it in 2010. I plan to wear it out to dinner — entirely possible, since it was my second wedding and I wore an awesome red dress that I found at JC Penney’s, of all places — and I’d like to wear it sans a certain foundation garment. Well, actually, I’ll probably still wear it since it makes a nice line under the dress, but I want to wear for nice-line reasons rather than for flab-control reasons.

So I ran 3 miles in a total of 32 minutes. This is not a terrific time, but for my first time out since mumble I’m not going to beat myself up over it. It’s a start. As long as I keep it up, and while I have no reason to believe that this time will be different, hope springs eternal.

In other news, we watched The Walking Dead this evening — in a surprising turn of events, a zombie ate Dale. Sort of. The Pumpkin’s boyfriend was profane about this ending, and the Pumpkin objected loudly. Because I am a genius, I had already predicted that Dale would be eaten soon. This pronouncement followed this episode’s long debate about post-apocalyptic moral codes and the possibility that civilization has devolved to a state that is incompatible with the mores that these people used to hold. Since this is indeed the thesis of the graphic novels, I was not surprised to see it on the show. Dale clearly had to be killed, since he showed himself entirely unwilling to compromise his position as the poster boy for living life as they now know it in the same way that they lived life as they had known it. But I’m still sad about Dale. If they try to kill Glenn, however, I will cut a bitch.

Mundane occurrences this weekend include:

  • Painting my toenails a rich chocolate brown (to remind me of the delicious options that I gave up for Lent. Incidentally, I have combined the resumption of running with my giving up sweets for Lent (a hangover from my Catholic upbringing) to see if I can have a discernible waist again. We can but hope.
  • Cleaning my closet whilst trying to find my iPod (I was not successful and had to rely on the Pumpkin’s first-generation shuffle, which is the iPod of Last Resort around here).
  • Grading a load of neglected assignments. I celebrated their completion with some sparkling wine. Wine and alcoholic beverages are NOT things that I give up for Lent. Not because I’m an addict, but because it’s a thing that mr webbis and I bond over. Which sounds odd, but it’s part of our routine when we eventually get to see each other. Dinner, glass of wine, there you go. Also, see above: grading reward.
  • Wishing that Punxsutawney Phil weren’t a big, fat liar. This is the time of year that depresses me the most, and I spend a great deal of time scowling at the budding (now leafing, thank you) trees and the armies of smug robins that descend upon us once spring is firmly entrenched. Spring is beautiful, and I do appreciate the moto-riding weather, but an early spring mean an early summer, and that’s not good for anyone. I expect that summer will thump down upon us before May, in fact. I’m betting here and now that we will have our first 90 degree day in early April. You may send a nice bottle of Prosecco to me when I win our bet.
  • Watching “Doc Martin” on Netflix. On my phone, since my poor Mac is elderly and cranky. It casts a grumpy and suspicious eye on newfangled things like movie streaming…DVDs were good enough in 2006 and he doesn’t see any reason to change. Or to cooperate. I see my Mac as kind of a hoarder — he doesn’t like to relinquish anything he’s ever found or stored. As a result, streaming tends to bind him up, and I’ve yet to find the computer equivalent of Metamucil.

I think I need to go to bed….my brain is tired.

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I am sitting here watching the last piece of wood turn grey on the edges as the black bits decide to fall through the grate. It is surprising how not-warm this room is, even with the fire and a quilt. I suppose when it’s 30 degrees outside and I have the heat turned off, that’s what you should expect.

And I spent approximately 543 minutes this evening trying to keep the fire going. This last batch of firewood (about 8-9 logs) that mr webbis brought with him last weekend is damper/less seasoned than the wood we’ve been burning this autumn and winter, and it’s been a grave disappointment. I had my Girl Scout-approved arrangement of kindling and firewood arranged on the grate, I set fire to the crumpled pieces of paper, and a satisfying blaze devoured the kindling and began to spread to the small piece of firewood.

Sadly, it blackened the center of the log in a feeble sort of way, smoked furiously, and refused to burn.

Crumpled up more paper, got more kindling, got the fire going again, watched it smoke, smoulder, and go out. Ninety zillion times.After building tiny fires under the sad log, I had to resort to the lighter fluid. And then I scrubbed my flammable hands.

Two thoroughly soaked logs later, I had A Fire. Logs 3 and 4 burned nicely without any need for incendiaries. And so here I sit, grading (except obviously not) and watching log 4, my final bit of firewood, turn into ash. I hate having to spend more time getting frustrated with the fire than I do enjoying it, so I might have to go buy some seasoned and bone-dry wood for tomorrow night. I have to enjoy my fires when I can, since next week the temperatures are getting up n the 60s. How dismal.

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My weekends alone are not really very exciting. I have grading to do and research to do. I never get as much done as I think I will, and this weekend I forgot to bring home my students’ essays, so I can’t grade those until Monday. I had hoped to have them ready by Tuesday’s class, but life is a series of disappointments…

Are you riveted by my fascinating stories yet?

I should probably try again tomorrow….

 

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The “I hate my students” essay has long been a Chronicle of Higher Education staple, and for obvious reasons. The classroom can be a frustrating place, and sometimes a prof just needs to vent.

The problem with venting in the Chronicle, though, is that you open yourself up to rebuttal.

Meet Ann Hassenpflug.

Hassenpflug is a professor of education, and she doesn’t like it when her students bring their kids to class. Because she doesn’t like it when her students bring their kids to class, she has a “no kids in class” policy in her syllabus, and she gets mad when that policy is violated.

Fair enough. But some of the reasons behind her rule — a child might sit in a student’s regular chair  — seem trivial, while others arise from problems that could be easily dealt with in other ways.

I myself allow students to bring…

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A Question

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