This year, for the first time in about four years, we celebrated Thanksgiving without any of the extended family. Although Thanksgiving is not really my holiday (seeing as how the Pilgrims were dying to get out of Holland and to the new colonies, this shouldn't come as much of a surprise), I have, thanks to my better half, learned to see it as a true family occasion. And, as I should point out, a truly American family occasion, which involves paintball, fishing, canoeing, the possibility of hunting, roasting marshmallows, and talking to people whose family relations to you are simply far too complicated to describe ("so you're my husband's second cousin's son's wife, right?). However, this year, due to moving family members, crazy work schedules, and other general snafus, the DixieChick family stayed in Georgia. All by itself.
It actually wasn't so bad. Husband-dear and I had it all thought out, and believe that we now have the perfect recipe for a successful Thanksgiving at home without any extended family. It requires the following:
1. Lots of unhealthy food, but no turkey. Turkey without family is like, to coin another American phrase, Smith without Wesson, Mason without Dixie, or to stay in my field a little more, Woodward without Bernstein. It's just not right. So instead we had tappas for lunch and a good hearty Dutch Stamppot for dinner. I know, potatoes, onions, carrots, and sausage for Thanksgiving may seem like sacrilege, but it may my family very happy, and at the end of the day, that's what matters.
2. Lots and lots of movies. From Coraline, to Funny People, to whatever was on TBS, we watched it.
3. Lots of sleeping in and laying around. Although I did take a shower on Thursday and put on sweatpants, husband-dear and the boys argued that that showed way too much initiative, and they would sit around and not shower. And if that meant they would be stinky, then God help them, but so be it. Well, thank goodness they weren't stinky, but they did lay around. All. Day. Long. It was amazing.
Can you tell it was an awesome Thanksgiving? It gave us enough energy to go for a run and take the kids to the Museum of Aviation on Friday morning, complete our Christmas shopping on Friday afternoon, pressure wash the house, clean the windows, and trim the bushes on Saturday, and go for a long bike ride on Sunday.
And in case you're worried I'm hitting a post-Thanksgiving slump, no worries. Review week and finals are upon us at last, so no time for a slump. Happy last day of November!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tags and Awards
When I started blogging, I thought I would just get on this website every once in a while and inform the world (or at least my mother: hai mam!) about my life. But now that I've been around for a while, I realize that there is so much more to it. There are awards, tags, games, gift-giving, and a myriad of other activities to keep the modern-day blogger occupied. And today's post will be dedicated to two of the activities: an award, and a game of tag.
First, Petra gave me the Creative Blogger award
Thank you!
Apparently, like all other good things in life, this award doesn't come for free either. I now have to tell you all seven things about me that you don't yet know, and give this award to seven other people. Wow.
To make things even better, my friend Wonder Woman tagged me in a game where I am supposed to answer five questions and tag two other people.
Wow. This blogging thing is getting complicated.
But, first things first. Seven things about me you don't know. I don't think there's a lot about me my readers don't know yet, I mean, really, I think I've even mentioned my weight on here at one point. But, I'll give it a try.
1. I was born on Easter Sunday. My mother was a nurse, and joked with the staff at the hospital where she worked that she was going to be the patient they would remember, and deliver on Easter Sunday. And she kept her promise. The fact that she had placenta previa and was in the hospital for four weeks probably helped the "remember me" part just as much though.
2. When I was in school, I always wanted to be a cheerleader. I thought it would be the coolest thing in the world to do. But since I couldn't even get down into a split or do a toe-touch, it was always out of the question.
3. With the exception of green beans (and I'm talking haricots verts, not the disgusting canned green beans they have here), I don't like beans. I do like Mexican food though, only without the beans. Imagine the fun I have ordering in a Mexican restaurant.
4. Until the whole baby-thing fell apart on us, husband-dear and I were really hoping for a girl. We were going to name her Elisabeth Sue, after both our mothers, and call her Elli.
5. I was a field hockey girl for years and years and years. I can't play soccer, can't play volleyball, and generally suck at any sports that involves my bodyparts and a ball. But hand me a long narrow stick and a tiny, hard ball, and suddenly I get it. Still have not figured out how that works.
6. When husband-dear and I first met, we bonded over the fact that we had both lived in really cold places and knew what it feels like when your nostril hair freezes. This was about five minutes after we met. Go figure.
7. I am secretly waiting for a school reunion (of really any of the schools I went to), so I can show the kids who always bullied me that I did turn out pretty OK
Now, the next step would to pass the award on to seven people. The problem with that is, like Annemiek already noted, that most of the bloggers I follow on a regular basis have already received this award, and so there is no way I can come up with seven.
There are a few people I would like to single out, however:
My friend, Wonder Woman. Not only do I love reading about her pregnant musing, she's also the lady who introduced me to the man who introduced me to the woman who ended up introducing me to my husband. So not only does she keep a pretty cool blog, I owe her a lot. With all the men in your home, you deserve this pink girlie award more than anyone.
The mysterious FB+. He writes a pretty interesting blog, and leaves the funniest comments. I hope this award will inspire him (or her) to write on a more regular basis. Fortunately, I get to talk to him (or her) on a far more regular basis, but I think it's about time he (or she) shares some of those musings with the world!
The wonderful Bibi. I love reading her blogs about her life in rural Pennsylvania, the life she is creating for herself, all her wonderful herbal concoctions she makes, and everything else she gets up to.
Now for the game of tag. Apparently, this game of tag involves answering five personal questions, and then tagging two other people. Since I'm sure you can't wait for more personal revelations, here we go.
1. What were you doing ten years ago?
Finishing up my Master's degree and getting ready to go to the University of Texas at Austin. It's funny, I remember that ten years ago I was really debating whether I wanted to pursue an academic career or not (let's just say that a boy was involved). But if I hadn't left for UT (and left said boy behind) I would have never met husband-dear. Or worked at my beloved school. Serendipity. It's all I have to say about that.
2. What are five things on your to-do list?
I have two, one for work, and one for home, so I'll just name the top three from each:
a. Grade Comm 2001 papers
b. Grade Comm 3310 research proposals
c. Prep spreadsheets for final grades
d. Buy Christmas presents husband-dear
e. Take Jimmie to doctor at 1pm
f. Do laundry
3. What snacks do you enjoy?
Chocolate, dropjes, baked barbeque chips, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, cheese (I know, it's weird), and crackers (possibly even weirder).
4. What are the places you have lived?
I'll just provide a selection of five here: Germany, France, Nijmegen (The Netherlands), Texas, and Georgia.
5. What would you do if you became a billionaire?
a. I know this sounds hokey, but husband-dear and I have always talked about starting our own homeless shelter. We once ran into a homeless couple here in town, and they just broke our heart. They were living in their car, were trying to sell us their dog, and seemed so helpless. Husband-dear and I spent the whole rest of the day talking about what we could do to help out people like that, and we came up with a shelter where people could live and learn a trade, get the help they needed, and slowly transition into project housing. We even came up with a name, "Street to Feet". So yes, hokey. But true.
b. Get an in-ground pool. Or a house with an in-ground pool. I'm not picky. I just really want a pool. And since I'll have money to burn, I'll make it heated
c. Get a private chauffeur to drive me to work. No, I wouldn't quit my job. Do you know how bored I would get? I might provide funding for our department to get their own building and administrative staff, but I would not quit.
d. Get husband-dear his waverunner and the kids that four-wheeler they have been begging for.
e. Give lots of it away - would you like a new laptop? We'll get it for you! A new car? Sure! There is no way we could spend it all anyway
Now, the last step in this game involves tagging two other people. Yay! I love passing work on to other people. I think the first person I am going to tag is Cisca, since she recently admitted to liking lists. Sorry girl, you're it! The next person I am going to tag, is going to have to be Bibi again, just because I would love to find out what she would do with a billion dollars.
Well, now that I have fulfilled all of my blogging obligations, I would like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very happy turkey day! May your cranberry sauce be sweet and your giblets disgusting!
First, Petra gave me the Creative Blogger award
Thank you!
Apparently, like all other good things in life, this award doesn't come for free either. I now have to tell you all seven things about me that you don't yet know, and give this award to seven other people. Wow.
To make things even better, my friend Wonder Woman tagged me in a game where I am supposed to answer five questions and tag two other people.
Wow. This blogging thing is getting complicated.
But, first things first. Seven things about me you don't know. I don't think there's a lot about me my readers don't know yet, I mean, really, I think I've even mentioned my weight on here at one point. But, I'll give it a try.
1. I was born on Easter Sunday. My mother was a nurse, and joked with the staff at the hospital where she worked that she was going to be the patient they would remember, and deliver on Easter Sunday. And she kept her promise. The fact that she had placenta previa and was in the hospital for four weeks probably helped the "remember me" part just as much though.
2. When I was in school, I always wanted to be a cheerleader. I thought it would be the coolest thing in the world to do. But since I couldn't even get down into a split or do a toe-touch, it was always out of the question.
3. With the exception of green beans (and I'm talking haricots verts, not the disgusting canned green beans they have here), I don't like beans. I do like Mexican food though, only without the beans. Imagine the fun I have ordering in a Mexican restaurant.
4. Until the whole baby-thing fell apart on us, husband-dear and I were really hoping for a girl. We were going to name her Elisabeth Sue, after both our mothers, and call her Elli.
5. I was a field hockey girl for years and years and years. I can't play soccer, can't play volleyball, and generally suck at any sports that involves my bodyparts and a ball. But hand me a long narrow stick and a tiny, hard ball, and suddenly I get it. Still have not figured out how that works.
6. When husband-dear and I first met, we bonded over the fact that we had both lived in really cold places and knew what it feels like when your nostril hair freezes. This was about five minutes after we met. Go figure.
7. I am secretly waiting for a school reunion (of really any of the schools I went to), so I can show the kids who always bullied me that I did turn out pretty OK
Now, the next step would to pass the award on to seven people. The problem with that is, like Annemiek already noted, that most of the bloggers I follow on a regular basis have already received this award, and so there is no way I can come up with seven.
There are a few people I would like to single out, however:
My friend, Wonder Woman. Not only do I love reading about her pregnant musing, she's also the lady who introduced me to the man who introduced me to the woman who ended up introducing me to my husband. So not only does she keep a pretty cool blog, I owe her a lot. With all the men in your home, you deserve this pink girlie award more than anyone.
The mysterious FB+. He writes a pretty interesting blog, and leaves the funniest comments. I hope this award will inspire him (or her) to write on a more regular basis. Fortunately, I get to talk to him (or her) on a far more regular basis, but I think it's about time he (or she) shares some of those musings with the world!
The wonderful Bibi. I love reading her blogs about her life in rural Pennsylvania, the life she is creating for herself, all her wonderful herbal concoctions she makes, and everything else she gets up to.
Now for the game of tag. Apparently, this game of tag involves answering five personal questions, and then tagging two other people. Since I'm sure you can't wait for more personal revelations, here we go.
1. What were you doing ten years ago?
Finishing up my Master's degree and getting ready to go to the University of Texas at Austin. It's funny, I remember that ten years ago I was really debating whether I wanted to pursue an academic career or not (let's just say that a boy was involved). But if I hadn't left for UT (and left said boy behind) I would have never met husband-dear. Or worked at my beloved school. Serendipity. It's all I have to say about that.
2. What are five things on your to-do list?
I have two, one for work, and one for home, so I'll just name the top three from each:
a. Grade Comm 2001 papers
b. Grade Comm 3310 research proposals
c. Prep spreadsheets for final grades
d. Buy Christmas presents husband-dear
e. Take Jimmie to doctor at 1pm
f. Do laundry
3. What snacks do you enjoy?
Chocolate, dropjes, baked barbeque chips, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, cheese (I know, it's weird), and crackers (possibly even weirder).
4. What are the places you have lived?
I'll just provide a selection of five here: Germany, France, Nijmegen (The Netherlands), Texas, and Georgia.
5. What would you do if you became a billionaire?
a. I know this sounds hokey, but husband-dear and I have always talked about starting our own homeless shelter. We once ran into a homeless couple here in town, and they just broke our heart. They were living in their car, were trying to sell us their dog, and seemed so helpless. Husband-dear and I spent the whole rest of the day talking about what we could do to help out people like that, and we came up with a shelter where people could live and learn a trade, get the help they needed, and slowly transition into project housing. We even came up with a name, "Street to Feet". So yes, hokey. But true.
b. Get an in-ground pool. Or a house with an in-ground pool. I'm not picky. I just really want a pool. And since I'll have money to burn, I'll make it heated
c. Get a private chauffeur to drive me to work. No, I wouldn't quit my job. Do you know how bored I would get? I might provide funding for our department to get their own building and administrative staff, but I would not quit.
d. Get husband-dear his waverunner and the kids that four-wheeler they have been begging for.
e. Give lots of it away - would you like a new laptop? We'll get it for you! A new car? Sure! There is no way we could spend it all anyway
Now, the last step in this game involves tagging two other people. Yay! I love passing work on to other people. I think the first person I am going to tag is Cisca, since she recently admitted to liking lists. Sorry girl, you're it! The next person I am going to tag, is going to have to be Bibi again, just because I would love to find out what she would do with a billion dollars.
Well, now that I have fulfilled all of my blogging obligations, I would like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very happy turkey day! May your cranberry sauce be sweet and your giblets disgusting!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
DixieChick's Rules of Life
I realize you all must be getting tired of my little lists at this point, but this morning I received an email that I simply had to share with all of you. You see, over the past week, my kids and my students have been locked in a competition over who can be the most demanding, ornery, irresponsible and otherwise generally annoying. There have been tantrums, crying spells, lost tempers, and the usual drama, both at home and at work, and as an academic, the only solution I can think of for that is to organize it all into a neat little list. So. For anyone who has children or works with children, or works with people who act like children, this is dedicated to you. May the Force be with you.
Rule 1. Life is not fair - get used to it!
Rule 2. The world doesn't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself.
Rule 3. You will NOT make $60 000 a year right out of high school. Or college for that matter.
Rule 4. If you think your teacher is though, wait until you get a boss.
Rule 5. Flipping burgers in not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burgerflipping. They called it opportunity.
Rule 6. If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault. So don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
Rule 7. Before you were born, your parents were not as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you talk about how much your life sucks. So before you save the rainforest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room first.
Rule 8. Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades, and they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't have even the slightest resemblance to real life.
Rule 9. Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. You can do that on your own time.
Rule 10. Television is not real life. In real life, people actually have to leave coffee shops and go to work.
Rule 11. Be nice to nerds, chances are you'll end up working for one.
And in case you're worried, I still love my kids, I still love my students, and my job, but right now I just want everyone to go away. Or learn these rules and live by them. It's their pick.
Rule 1. Life is not fair - get used to it!
Rule 2. The world doesn't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself.
Rule 3. You will NOT make $60 000 a year right out of high school. Or college for that matter.
Rule 4. If you think your teacher is though, wait until you get a boss.
Rule 5. Flipping burgers in not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burgerflipping. They called it opportunity.
Rule 6. If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault. So don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
Rule 7. Before you were born, your parents were not as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you talk about how much your life sucks. So before you save the rainforest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room first.
Rule 8. Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades, and they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't have even the slightest resemblance to real life.
Rule 9. Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. You can do that on your own time.
Rule 10. Television is not real life. In real life, people actually have to leave coffee shops and go to work.
Rule 11. Be nice to nerds, chances are you'll end up working for one.
And in case you're worried, I still love my kids, I still love my students, and my job, but right now I just want everyone to go away. Or learn these rules and live by them. It's their pick.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
American runs on...
Volunteering.
If you thought "Dunkin'", then you're obviously not from my neck of the woods. If that statement makes you scratch your head, you're obviously from the other side of the pond, and should just carry on reading. Anyway, our world down in the south would not exist if weren't for people helping out. For free. In their own time. Without reimbursement.
You can say a lot of things about Americans - they're loud, overweight, poor drivers, could use a clothing make-over, and really need to learn that "done did that" is not correct English, but there is one thing you cannot say about them, and that is that they're not willing to help. Because they are. Are you carrying a box into a building? Someone will hold the door open for you. Did you just trip carrying that big box up the stairs? People will actually stop and help you up and ask you if you are OK, and then despite all your protests, carry the box to your office for you. Compare that to Holland, where I have had people step over me and my box and complaining they're late for class. Are you sick? People will bring over more than enough food to feed your entire family for a week. Without asking first. Are you down in the dumps? People will send a card or drop off cookies, or both. Do you want to plan a dinner for the city's homeless people? Vague acquintances will gladly offer to make their grandma's stuffed turkey recipe, or offer use of their truck, or sacrifice their weekend to help you serve.
Now I like helping out. The reason I like helping out is probably also the reason why I'm up to my ears in work right now. I just can't stand leaving students out in the cold when they need a class and no one is stepping up the plate. I like to say I'm on a fast track to tenure, although husband-dear argues I'm on a fast track to insanity. I say we get to tenure first, and then let the chips fall as they may. But having said that, I have tried to cut back on my volunteering. Because tenure will take another few years, and losing my sanity this semester would not look good in my portfolio.
So, I'm not sure how it happened, or why for that matter, but this week I was semi-in-charge of the non-edible portion of the Airmen's Center Thanksgiving Dinner. I don't know why husband-dear, myself, and our dear friend Jan were the only ones from the chapel to respond to the email from our, by the way very cool and totally awesome new chaplain from Idaho, and I'm not sure what inspired us to give up our free Thursday night last week for a planning meeting either. I also really don't know while at said meeting, Jan and I volunteered to take care of the decorations, while husband-dear magnamimously offered to help with setting up hundreds of chairs and tables. I really don't, especially if you consider that I have enough work to keep at least five people occupied until the end of the year. But considering that I still find time to write this blog, I must have, in some foggy part of my brain, decided that I should thus also have time to make a bare building like a Thanksgiving Extravanganza. So after giving up our Thursday night last week, we then also sacrificed a few consecutive evenings and afternoons after that, because once you commit, you do it right. Right? Anyway, we're not done yet either. After helping the airmen eat the enormous helpings of turkey and sweet potato and pulled pork and mounds of desert last night, we will be going over tonight to help clean up the enormous amounts of fall decorations that Jan and I borrowed from every single protocol closet on base on Friday.
What is a protocol closet, you ask? I'm so glad you asked, because until last Friday, I didn't know either. A protocol closet is a place, usually a room, where a unit's protcol officer keeps all the decorations used for special events such as promotions, dinners, 4th of July celebrations, Christmast parties, and so on. They're basically the equivalent of a Hobby Lobby without the price tag. So anyway, the command center let Jan and I browse through these walhallas of decorations, and we went nuts. Unfortunately, we now also need to take all the garlands and leaves and pumpkins and ribbons and candles and flowers back. And then get ready for Christmas. Because our new chaplain, efficient as he could have possibly been, also assigned the same positions for the Airmen Christmas dinner.
But although I obviously don't have time for any of this, it's fun. And not just because you're helping people out, but also because whenever you volunteer on base, and call out, "Are there any men who can help me carry this box/ hang this up / move this cabinet" there are at least six strapping young men ready to help you out. What can I say? Volunteering comes with its perks.
.
If you thought "Dunkin'", then you're obviously not from my neck of the woods. If that statement makes you scratch your head, you're obviously from the other side of the pond, and should just carry on reading. Anyway, our world down in the south would not exist if weren't for people helping out. For free. In their own time. Without reimbursement.
You can say a lot of things about Americans - they're loud, overweight, poor drivers, could use a clothing make-over, and really need to learn that "done did that" is not correct English, but there is one thing you cannot say about them, and that is that they're not willing to help. Because they are. Are you carrying a box into a building? Someone will hold the door open for you. Did you just trip carrying that big box up the stairs? People will actually stop and help you up and ask you if you are OK, and then despite all your protests, carry the box to your office for you. Compare that to Holland, where I have had people step over me and my box and complaining they're late for class. Are you sick? People will bring over more than enough food to feed your entire family for a week. Without asking first. Are you down in the dumps? People will send a card or drop off cookies, or both. Do you want to plan a dinner for the city's homeless people? Vague acquintances will gladly offer to make their grandma's stuffed turkey recipe, or offer use of their truck, or sacrifice their weekend to help you serve.
Now I like helping out. The reason I like helping out is probably also the reason why I'm up to my ears in work right now. I just can't stand leaving students out in the cold when they need a class and no one is stepping up the plate. I like to say I'm on a fast track to tenure, although husband-dear argues I'm on a fast track to insanity. I say we get to tenure first, and then let the chips fall as they may. But having said that, I have tried to cut back on my volunteering. Because tenure will take another few years, and losing my sanity this semester would not look good in my portfolio.
So, I'm not sure how it happened, or why for that matter, but this week I was semi-in-charge of the non-edible portion of the Airmen's Center Thanksgiving Dinner. I don't know why husband-dear, myself, and our dear friend Jan were the only ones from the chapel to respond to the email from our, by the way very cool and totally awesome new chaplain from Idaho, and I'm not sure what inspired us to give up our free Thursday night last week for a planning meeting either. I also really don't know while at said meeting, Jan and I volunteered to take care of the decorations, while husband-dear magnamimously offered to help with setting up hundreds of chairs and tables. I really don't, especially if you consider that I have enough work to keep at least five people occupied until the end of the year. But considering that I still find time to write this blog, I must have, in some foggy part of my brain, decided that I should thus also have time to make a bare building like a Thanksgiving Extravanganza. So after giving up our Thursday night last week, we then also sacrificed a few consecutive evenings and afternoons after that, because once you commit, you do it right. Right? Anyway, we're not done yet either. After helping the airmen eat the enormous helpings of turkey and sweet potato and pulled pork and mounds of desert last night, we will be going over tonight to help clean up the enormous amounts of fall decorations that Jan and I borrowed from every single protocol closet on base on Friday.
What is a protocol closet, you ask? I'm so glad you asked, because until last Friday, I didn't know either. A protocol closet is a place, usually a room, where a unit's protcol officer keeps all the decorations used for special events such as promotions, dinners, 4th of July celebrations, Christmast parties, and so on. They're basically the equivalent of a Hobby Lobby without the price tag. So anyway, the command center let Jan and I browse through these walhallas of decorations, and we went nuts. Unfortunately, we now also need to take all the garlands and leaves and pumpkins and ribbons and candles and flowers back. And then get ready for Christmas. Because our new chaplain, efficient as he could have possibly been, also assigned the same positions for the Airmen Christmas dinner.
But although I obviously don't have time for any of this, it's fun. And not just because you're helping people out, but also because whenever you volunteer on base, and call out, "Are there any men who can help me carry this box/ hang this up / move this cabinet" there are at least six strapping young men ready to help you out. What can I say? Volunteering comes with its perks.
.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Life is Good
You would think that a new blog after a week of deadly, ringing, earth-shattering silence, means that the craziness is over. What can I say? HA! Would seem to cover it pretty well. Craziness ends with commencement on December 12 at 10am, which is about 24 days, one hour, twenty-three minutes and ten seconds from now.
So no, the craziness has not yet ended. Instead of advisement, it's now registration, which means endless lines of students with forms to sign, questions about classes, overrides, overloads, and grade changes. It's senior portfolio presentation time as well, which means high drama in the hallways as students hear whether they're "walking", the euphemism used to describe graduation, or not. And it's also general end-of-semester blues, which entails the usual temper tantrums, late nights, and tears and lots of chocolate and coffee.
But sometimes there is a little haven of peace. A few moments when you realize that the clothing line may have a point after all. One of those moments happened yesterday. I should probably tell you that Steve and I have been harassing each other, beyond what we normally do, about the other person bringing in a) fancy coffee, or b) a hot breakfast. You see, I did Steve a few favors a while back, and so I figured he owed me a Starbucks pumpkin-spiced latte. For those of you unfamiliar with that beverage, let me just say w-o-w. I think I would gladly donate one of the kids for charity for a medium pumpkin latte. So anyway, I would send Steve random little messages a few times each day reminding him about the coffee I felt he owed me. You can probably see how that added to my merriment, while doing very little for his.
But then last week, during advisement, Steve saved my butt a couple of times too. For some reason only known to the Gods and our department secretary, Steve has no advisees and I have 70. Let me repeat that. Steve has no advisees and I have 70. Yes. 70. I don't know why or why, as the secretary likes him even less than she likes me, and Steve is an atheist, so I know God has nothing to do with it either. So anyway, last week, as I'm dealing with the long line of students at my door, and would run out of manilla files, or registration permits, or the batteries in my mouse would die, all it would take was a quick message to Steve, and he would show up with the necessary office supplies. So then Steve figured, I owed him a hot breakfast. So now my little emails about coffee received responses that involved hot biscuits and donuts. And of course, neither really happened, as we were either too busy working, or too busy complaining about work to step out of the office.
And then yesterday we received an email that our paper got accepted by a major conference. After doing a little "We're going to Memphis" dance in my office, I called Steve, and he finally did the right thing. He instructed one of his interns to drive to Starbucks and pick up two tall pumpkin-spiced lattes. Let me tell you, I was so excited, I almost cried. I nursed that cup the whole day (yes, I microwaved it too), and realized that Life is indeed Good. Sometimes anyway.
So no, the craziness has not yet ended. Instead of advisement, it's now registration, which means endless lines of students with forms to sign, questions about classes, overrides, overloads, and grade changes. It's senior portfolio presentation time as well, which means high drama in the hallways as students hear whether they're "walking", the euphemism used to describe graduation, or not. And it's also general end-of-semester blues, which entails the usual temper tantrums, late nights, and tears and lots of chocolate and coffee.
But sometimes there is a little haven of peace. A few moments when you realize that the clothing line may have a point after all. One of those moments happened yesterday. I should probably tell you that Steve and I have been harassing each other, beyond what we normally do, about the other person bringing in a) fancy coffee, or b) a hot breakfast. You see, I did Steve a few favors a while back, and so I figured he owed me a Starbucks pumpkin-spiced latte. For those of you unfamiliar with that beverage, let me just say w-o-w. I think I would gladly donate one of the kids for charity for a medium pumpkin latte. So anyway, I would send Steve random little messages a few times each day reminding him about the coffee I felt he owed me. You can probably see how that added to my merriment, while doing very little for his.
But then last week, during advisement, Steve saved my butt a couple of times too. For some reason only known to the Gods and our department secretary, Steve has no advisees and I have 70. Let me repeat that. Steve has no advisees and I have 70. Yes. 70. I don't know why or why, as the secretary likes him even less than she likes me, and Steve is an atheist, so I know God has nothing to do with it either. So anyway, last week, as I'm dealing with the long line of students at my door, and would run out of manilla files, or registration permits, or the batteries in my mouse would die, all it would take was a quick message to Steve, and he would show up with the necessary office supplies. So then Steve figured, I owed him a hot breakfast. So now my little emails about coffee received responses that involved hot biscuits and donuts. And of course, neither really happened, as we were either too busy working, or too busy complaining about work to step out of the office.
And then yesterday we received an email that our paper got accepted by a major conference. After doing a little "We're going to Memphis" dance in my office, I called Steve, and he finally did the right thing. He instructed one of his interns to drive to Starbucks and pick up two tall pumpkin-spiced lattes. Let me tell you, I was so excited, I almost cried. I nursed that cup the whole day (yes, I microwaved it too), and realized that Life is indeed Good. Sometimes anyway.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Ik word gek
Ik zou vandaag een Engelstalig blog schrijven over state's rights and waarom manlief wel vrij heeft en ik niet. En dat komt er echt aan. Alleen niet vandaag. En misschien ook niet morgen. En dat komt omdat ik namelijk gek word. Net als dat liedje van Brigitte Kaandorp word ik "gek, harstikke gek, helemaal gek". Sorry, ik kon even geen leuke Youtube link vinden, dus u moet het maar doen met het feit dat ze in dat liedje helemaal gestoord wordt van allerlei mensen die vanalles van haar willen.
Zo voel ik mij dus ook vandaag. Of nou ja, de hele week. Naast dat het namelijk weer eens advisement week is, en ik dus vijftig studenten in vier dagen van zinnige advies moet voorzien, moet ik namelijk ook dertig proefwerken, veertig onderzoeksvoorstellen, en tien online opdrachten nakijken. Ik moet een aantal online discussies modereren, en ik moet mijn eigen opdrachten maken voor een verplicht online college voor online instructeurs. Daarnaast word ik voor diezelfde cursus vanavond geacht om van half zeven tot half acht een "wimba classroom session" bij te wonen, en moet ik, ook voor die cursus, met een subgroepje een voorstel voor een college opzet schrijven. Raad eens wie aangewezen is om de eerste versie te produceren? Juist. Gekke Henkie. Sorry. Ik dus. Daarnaast moet ik ook nog, om aan de "publish or perish criteria" te voldoen, deze week mijn meest recente onderzoeksvoorstel indienen bij de ethiek commissie van de universiteit. Oh ja, en had ik al vermeld dat ik ook nog twaalf keer deze week college moet geven? En dat het al twee dagen regent?
Dus vandaag geen gezellig blog over het leven in het zuiden. Want DixieChick wordt gek. Harstikke gek.
Zo voel ik mij dus ook vandaag. Of nou ja, de hele week. Naast dat het namelijk weer eens advisement week is, en ik dus vijftig studenten in vier dagen van zinnige advies moet voorzien, moet ik namelijk ook dertig proefwerken, veertig onderzoeksvoorstellen, en tien online opdrachten nakijken. Ik moet een aantal online discussies modereren, en ik moet mijn eigen opdrachten maken voor een verplicht online college voor online instructeurs. Daarnaast word ik voor diezelfde cursus vanavond geacht om van half zeven tot half acht een "wimba classroom session" bij te wonen, en moet ik, ook voor die cursus, met een subgroepje een voorstel voor een college opzet schrijven. Raad eens wie aangewezen is om de eerste versie te produceren? Juist. Gekke Henkie. Sorry. Ik dus. Daarnaast moet ik ook nog, om aan de "publish or perish criteria" te voldoen, deze week mijn meest recente onderzoeksvoorstel indienen bij de ethiek commissie van de universiteit. Oh ja, en had ik al vermeld dat ik ook nog twaalf keer deze week college moet geven? En dat het al twee dagen regent?
Dus vandaag geen gezellig blog over het leven in het zuiden. Want DixieChick wordt gek. Harstikke gek.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Dan zeg ik lekker bil!
Weet u waar ik niet tegen kan? Naast mandarijntjes die met het openmaken hun sap over je net gestreken blouse morsen, en mensen uit Florida die 60 rijden in de middelste baan? Ik kan dus absoluut niet tegen mensen die mij vertellen wat ik moet doen. In mijn vrije tijd dan wel te verstaan. Op mijn werk kun je me vanalles vertellen, en ik doe het met liefde. Of ik doe in ieder geval alsof ik het met liefde doe. Soms dan zal ik je zelfs vragen wat je wil dat ik doe. Maak ik totaal geen punt van zelfs. Maar in mijn vrije tijd wil ik graag zelf de touwtjes in handen hebben. Heel raar, maar ja. Er is nou eenmaal niks aan te doen.
Dus toen ik vorige week van een van de dames van de Nederlandse koffie te horen kreeg dat "Ja, omdat je er vorige keer niet bij kon zijn, bel ik je maar even. Want we hebben vorige keer besloten dat het de volgende keer bij jou is. En oh ja, het is op 16 November", begrijpt u dat ik niet echt een gat in de lucht sprong. Naast mensen die me vertellen wat ik moet doen, kan ik er namelijk al helemaal niet tegen als mensen mijn tijd voor me indelen. En dan doet het er nog niet eens toe 16 November voor ons het begin van de laatste weken voor commencement is, en dus het begin van "hell's weeks". Nee, het gaat erom dat het mijn tijd is. En daar ben ik heel zuinig op. Wederom erg vervelend, maar ja. Ik ben nou eenmaal een mini-scrooge.
Maar goed, ik ben ook de minste niet, en was bereid om dit gewoon maar zonder zeuren te doen, of in ieder geval alleen met zeuren tegen manlief. Want die is wel wat gewend. Alleen toen ging vrijdag weer de telefoon, en het was weer een van de Nederlandse dames. Ik wil u het daaropvolgende gesprek niet onthouden, en dat ging ongeveer zo:
"Ja, ik wil niet vervelend zijn, maar heb je al gedacht wanneer je mensen ging bellen over de volgende Nederlandse koffie?"
"Uhm. Nou, ik dacht.."
"Ja, want dat is 16 November al, en dat is al heel erg snel, en dus dacht ik, je moet toch wel morgen gaan bellen, want anders hebben mensen al andere plannen."
"Nou ja, ik dacht dat ik komende week kon gaan bellen"
"Nee joh, dat moet veel eerder. Anders hebben mensen al andere afspraken. Heb je alle nummers al?"
"Ja, die heb ik. Maar ik wilde het eigenlijk verzetten naar de 23e. Dan hebben de kinderen namelijk vrij."
"Oh maar dan mag je wel helemaal opschieten. Zal ik anders nu gaan bellen? Anders heeft iedereen al andere dingen. Het kan anders ook wel bij mij hoor, de 16e."
"Nou... ja..."
"Weet je, bel jij iedereen vanavond op, en dan laat mij maar weten of ze wel of niet op de 23e kunnen. Anders doen we het bij me. Dan bel je ze gewoon terug dat het veranderd is."
"Oh."
U begrijpt, dit streek recht tegen de haren van de innerlijke rebel en de innerlijke southern lady in. Het is ongeloolijk, maar het is deze vrouw maar liefst gelukt om deze twee tegenpolen tegelijkertijd te beledigen. En wat deed ik, als volwassen, goed opgevoede vrouw nadat dit telefoongesprek was beeindigd? Juist, ik stak mijn tong uit, riep in goede oude Annie M.G. stijl, "Ik wil niet meer, ik wil niet meer!", en heb nog geen enkele Nederlandse vrouw gebeld. Dat doe ik lekker wanneer ik daar zin in heb. Lekker puh.
Dus toen ik vorige week van een van de dames van de Nederlandse koffie te horen kreeg dat "Ja, omdat je er vorige keer niet bij kon zijn, bel ik je maar even. Want we hebben vorige keer besloten dat het de volgende keer bij jou is. En oh ja, het is op 16 November", begrijpt u dat ik niet echt een gat in de lucht sprong. Naast mensen die me vertellen wat ik moet doen, kan ik er namelijk al helemaal niet tegen als mensen mijn tijd voor me indelen. En dan doet het er nog niet eens toe 16 November voor ons het begin van de laatste weken voor commencement is, en dus het begin van "hell's weeks". Nee, het gaat erom dat het mijn tijd is. En daar ben ik heel zuinig op. Wederom erg vervelend, maar ja. Ik ben nou eenmaal een mini-scrooge.
Maar goed, ik ben ook de minste niet, en was bereid om dit gewoon maar zonder zeuren te doen, of in ieder geval alleen met zeuren tegen manlief. Want die is wel wat gewend. Alleen toen ging vrijdag weer de telefoon, en het was weer een van de Nederlandse dames. Ik wil u het daaropvolgende gesprek niet onthouden, en dat ging ongeveer zo:
"Ja, ik wil niet vervelend zijn, maar heb je al gedacht wanneer je mensen ging bellen over de volgende Nederlandse koffie?"
"Uhm. Nou, ik dacht.."
"Ja, want dat is 16 November al, en dat is al heel erg snel, en dus dacht ik, je moet toch wel morgen gaan bellen, want anders hebben mensen al andere plannen."
"Nou ja, ik dacht dat ik komende week kon gaan bellen"
"Nee joh, dat moet veel eerder. Anders hebben mensen al andere afspraken. Heb je alle nummers al?"
"Ja, die heb ik. Maar ik wilde het eigenlijk verzetten naar de 23e. Dan hebben de kinderen namelijk vrij."
"Oh maar dan mag je wel helemaal opschieten. Zal ik anders nu gaan bellen? Anders heeft iedereen al andere dingen. Het kan anders ook wel bij mij hoor, de 16e."
"Nou... ja..."
"Weet je, bel jij iedereen vanavond op, en dan laat mij maar weten of ze wel of niet op de 23e kunnen. Anders doen we het bij me. Dan bel je ze gewoon terug dat het veranderd is."
"Oh."
U begrijpt, dit streek recht tegen de haren van de innerlijke rebel en de innerlijke southern lady in. Het is ongeloolijk, maar het is deze vrouw maar liefst gelukt om deze twee tegenpolen tegelijkertijd te beledigen. En wat deed ik, als volwassen, goed opgevoede vrouw nadat dit telefoongesprek was beeindigd? Juist, ik stak mijn tong uit, riep in goede oude Annie M.G. stijl, "Ik wil niet meer, ik wil niet meer!", en heb nog geen enkele Nederlandse vrouw gebeld. Dat doe ik lekker wanneer ik daar zin in heb. Lekker puh.
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