tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-101794432024-03-07T01:35:41.084-06:00Queen of West ProcrastinationPowered by popcorn, tea, cheese and pickles since 2005.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.comBlogger1594125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-7636344084446615422016-06-08T20:41:00.000-06:002016-06-08T20:41:48.185-06:00Old-School Question Time PostTime: 8:28pm<br />
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Wearing: t-shirt and shorts! (It's been a magnificently hot day, and I've been hiding inside in the blessedly cool air conditioning. I'm so glad that I used this year's tax return and bought an air conditioner on the very first hot day of the year. I was not going to wait and see how hot this house could get.)<br />
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I'm procrastinating from: the pile of unfolded laundry, the full dishwasher, and figuring out what I'm doing with my life.<br />
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Tea of the day: mango green iced tea. (Murchies!)<br />
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On the TV: first season of Poirot<br />
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I'm amused by: period pieces from the 1980s, when you get bits of 80s fashion here and there.<br />
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I'm oddly pleased about: the amount of time I spent hanging laundry on the line today. It was such a nice excuse to spend time out in the sun, which always helps my mental health. And we have a lilac bush that's blooming now, which makes the whole backyard a lovely place.<br />
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<br />Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-39540619328464352372016-06-07T22:05:00.000-06:002016-06-07T22:32:07.709-06:00Rambling into the voidI took far too long writing a whole navel gaze about why I've been gone and what led me back, and how I found myself reading through my blog today.* You know the drill. I don't know how long I'll keep this up, and I have no expectations that anyone is reading this (but that is a bit of the appeal? It feels a little more like shouting into the void than Twitter does, these days). But I've missed writing. Let's see where this goes.<br />
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So: hi, guys! Since we left off, I turned 35, and bought a house for my birthday. (It just worked out that way.) We bought a 1950s bungalow that's walking distance from Chris's work, and now my life is so different from where we were at when I turned 30, that I barely recognise myself. (I think? I was leading into "I sometimes go for days without leaving the house and I bake a lot of bread," but that's exactly what my life was like at 30. It's just now, instead of having angst about failing at academia, I worry that I'm losing my identity into the domestic sphere, and mutter stuff about Betty Friedan and The Feminine Mystique.) (Okay, I guess the main difference is that Chris's commute is now a 5-minute walk instead of a 40-minute drive, and I have to get out of bed before he leaves for work now, because the early hours of the morning are Wild Party Time in preschooler land.) (Okay, and my life involves 500% more Small Person's Bodily Functions, but I'm trying to steer clear of that discussion here.)<br />
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Homeownership is exactly as scary as I thought it would be, during all our basement suite years: in the five months since we bought this place, we've spent roughly a kabillion dollars on it, especially on a furnace, a new stove, and an air conditioner (but the last one was technically optional), and when the snow melted and warm weather arrived, it turned out that our house was full of bees. (They had a way of getting in through the walls, and really, really love our house. Nine indoor bees in two days. Chris spray foamed every gap in the house, and now they stay outside and I stay inside.) And we got water in our basement, because it turns out that our sprinklers don't so much run as pour water against our foundation. And I hurt my arm attempting to be a gardener!<br />
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So, I think that catches you up. Rascally child, wacky house, and brain that's slowly de-fogging and starting to comprehend the surrounding world again. We'll see where this goes.<br />
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* A bloggy friend met up with my IRL friend, on my old university campus today! And then I got reminiscing about my bloggy friends, and then I got updating my blog roll, and then I realised I was blogging in my head while cleaning the kitchen...Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-1574420133470226062014-05-02T22:44:00.000-06:002014-05-02T22:44:02.120-06:00That nagging feelingSo, I've apparently decided to work out all of my post-ish-dissertation feelings here. And I have a lot of feelings about this (of course). I've realised that a lot of my Stepping Away From Dissertation Angst comes from my tendency to take everything in my life and extrapolate it to its logical(-ish) conclusions, and worry about What It All Means. Of course I do that: I've been trained to translate everything into What It Means.<br />
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I'm bad this way: today, I took Li'l E to the library, for a parent-and-tot nursery rhyme time. We were the only new ones there, and we both struggled to adjust. E was getting tired by the time we got there (shifts in her nap schedule are the death of me), and she is used to doing her own thing at the library, exploring all the kids' books and toys. When we went into the Story Room, she wanted to check everything out, and when activities started, she was more interested in the book bags hanging on the wall, the stacks of chairs, and everyone else's strollers. My attempts to corral her and involve her in the activities caused her to scream, and it all fell apart from there. E was the Toddler Group Screamer, and I was the Toddler Group Frazzled and Apologetic Mom.<br />
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So, I know that I have to give it another week, and be a little more strategic next time (we'll practice the rhymes, so that she knows what's happening; we won't go early and explore the books first, because then she'll be more likely to want to sit on my lap and sing songs; I'll make her take a little nap beforehand). However, it's hard for me not to turn this into a big thing that Means Things. She hates this, and we should just walk away! She needs to learn structure, and all the other kids her age can handle participating! I should have started this when she was younger! What if I'm a really bad mother? Was I too hard on her? Was I too lenient? On and on.<br />
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I've been doing this regarding my academic future. I feel such guilt when I hear opinions about How Much We Need Women In History. Women are having children and walking away from academia! Mommy-tracking! The need to contribute! (Of course, I feel such vindication when I read stuff about How Academia Is Biased Against Women, Particularly Those Who Have Children.) The idea of being yet another statistic, yet another number in an attrition rate bothers me sometimes (as if, if/when I finish I wouldn't be yet another PhD who doesn't get a T-T job).<br />
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Did I just compare my toddler to my dissertation? I guess that wouldn't be the first time. Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-14301108333258777582014-05-02T20:09:00.000-06:002014-05-02T20:09:39.783-06:00It's Official I just received word from Grad Studies: they've approved my official withdrawal, with the option to return at a late date. I am not a student, for the first time since I was three years old (other than the semester after I finished my Honours program and before I started my MA, and the retroactive year's maternity leave, only a few months of which I spent truly on leave).<br />
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So, now I'm starting to tell the wider public, and I'm trying to figure out how to move on with my life. I don't know how not to be a grad student: I've been one for most of my adult life. I've been working on this PhD for almost my whole marriage thus far (minus a month and a half, during which time we moved to start my PhD, and I defended my MA thesis). I'm taking little steps into my new life: E and I enrolled in a toddler program at the library (we started today, and it went badly). I applied to teach an online course, and I met with Dr. B, my MA supervisor, to discuss my options in this city. He's offered help, and my future looks fine. Honestly, this is the first time that the future hasn't terrified me in a long time.<br />
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I'm glad I have this blog: it's a useful place where I can process where I go from here.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-25497670162305273492014-04-28T22:53:00.000-06:002014-04-29T08:05:06.943-06:00Stepping back from the dissertation Back in December, I sent a panicked email to my supervisor. I had returned from my maternity leave in September, and I was not making the progress that I needed to make. I had arranged for more (free, family) childcare, and needed to know whether I had time to finish. You see, I was on borrowed time: I was on extension (complete with higher, extension tuition), and the terms of my extension made it clear that I needed to finish during that year, or not at all. I needed to know whether that year ended in April or August.<br />
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Dr. Supervisor got back to me, telling me that I just needed to defend by the first week of September, and that I should get the whole draft to him by mid-May. We agreed that it was time for one, final effort with the dissertation: I would write or edit a chapter per month, and see whether it was possible to finish.<br />
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That first chapter, post-mat leave, took a little longer than expected, but it went well. Dr. Supervisor was thrilled with it. The next chapter was less straightforward than I expected. I kept hitting walls, wishing I had more research, and questioning whether I was really saying anything new. I finished a chapter, and was happy with a few parts of it, but knew it still needed work. While I awaited feedback on that chapter, I started my last chapter (which was actually chapter one), and hit a wall. I was still trying to figure out how to write this thing, when I heard back from Dr. Supervisor about the previous chapter, and he said it needed a lot of work.<br />
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I responded and confessed that I was having the same problems, and worse, with Chapter One. I outlined all the questions I was having trouble answering, which caused Dr. Supervisor to review the dissertation as a whole, and find those same structural issues. While the middle three chapters hold together as individual essays, or as one fanatic MA thesis, my whole question is too broad for the research I did. I either need to conduct months and months of full-time newspaper research (much of which is only in archives in Germany), or I need to reframe the dissertation, which would involve rewriting everything.<br />
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The problem is that my deadline is two and a half weeks from now. Last week consisted of a flurry of phone calls between my supervisor and me. There was the possibility that I could throw myself at the mercy of the faculty, and beg for another extension. However, that would mean having to find (and pay for) full-time childcare for Li'l E (and part-time childcare was stressful enough for us). The cost is a huge issue as well: we would end up going into severe debt, if I tried to finish in the next year, and considering that I am incredibly unemployable on the tenure-track job market, there's no financial benefit to finishing (and, let's be honest: unwilling to move my family away from our home town, especially now that Chris has his dream job, and really unwilling to work 70-hour weeks while I have a toddler). I have my ABD status, and that's enough to get teaching work. (Long term, I'd like to find some kind of stable, university-adjacent work, but none of that will require a PhD.)<br />
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There's another possibility, which I've chosen to pursue (on the advice of my department): I've asked the Dean of Grad Studies for permission to withdraw from my program, with the option to re-register, when I'm in the place where I can finish. If that goes through, and I find myself regretting not finishing in a few years, if be able to come back and finish. Apparently, there is precedent for this option, within my department. My supervisor and my grad chair have written letters of support for me. So, we'll see what happens.<br />
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This may not happen. I might be finished for good. It's a strange feeling: I'm simultaneously feeling giddy what freedom and like I'm grieving a loss. It's like I'm going through a breakup. For the past nine years, this has been my singular goal, and while it's not a complete loss (and while I long ago gave up the expectation that I'd become a professor - - basically, ever since I learned the realities of the job market), I always presumed that is finish. That I would have the right to have "Dr." in front of my name.<br />
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So, now I wait. And, in the short term, my plan is the same: we're moving in a few weeks, and I'm happy that I now have time to pack. I signed up Li'l E for a nursery rhyme program at the library, because I now have time to spend with my kid. I'm submitting an application for sessional teaching work (just one class, at first) to my alma mater, and the deadline is on Wednesday. I'm figuring out how to take care of myself again.<br />
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I imagine I'll have a lot to write on this blog again, now that I'm not exhausting myself, trying to draw blood from a stone with that dissertation.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-7028453675740856542013-12-04T21:14:00.000-06:002013-12-04T21:27:26.797-06:00Dear goodness, it's been a year (almost) Exactly one year ago, Chris and I sat in my hospital room, trying to settle down and have one last quiet night before our lives were turned upside-down.<br />
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Tomorrow, my silly little girl will turn one. I now have a toddler running around my house, hiding combs in my winter boots. When I try to evaluate how my life has changed over the past year, it's easy to think of the inconveniences: I rarely get to wake myself up in the morning; leaving the apartment is a giant ordeal; I can't go to the bathroom without a small creature scratching at the door; my carpet is perpetually covered in Cheerios; I can't sit down at the computer and write my dissertation while she's awake, because she wants to climb on my lap and bang on the keyboard.<br />
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But I'm so thankful that our family has grown by one small person. She's so joyful: every person she meets is her new best friend, and every spoon, potato and Kleenex box is an exciting new toy. She's thrilled about the existence of books, and I'm thrilled to have a small creature with whom I can snuggle on the couch and share my love of reading. She wanders the house singing (mostly she sings "doot doot doot" with occasional trumpet sounds). I love watching my parents and in-laws interact with their grandchild, and seeing her bring out softness and sweetness in all of them, beyond what I've seen before.<br />
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I haven't changed as a result of motherhood as much as I presumed I would: somehow, a part of me expected that I would suddenly become a proper and level-headed Mom, full of wisdom, and not as ridiculous as I usually am. Instead, I now realize that my child will likely make poop jokes at inappropriate times, and that it will be entirely because of me.<br />
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I resist the idea that parenthood is some absolute and necessary experience of adulthood and womanhood, just as I cringe when parents of multiple children state or imply that those with one child haven't experienced "real" parenting. But this small person (who I still can't believe is my very own to keep) has changed me during this past year. I've started to learn how to love and accept this child on her own terms, to see her own personality and not just some person I want her to become. That lesson teaches me to love myself as well.<br />
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Happy birthday, Little Bug. Here's to a great second year.<br />
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<br />Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-33498597040398982182013-07-16T21:59:00.001-06:002013-07-16T21:59:42.063-06:00To My Love, On Our Eighth Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello, my love,<br />
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Eight years ago today, I made the best decision of my life. I married you, and we ran away together half-way across the country. We made a life for ourselves, far from friends and family, and then created a family around us where we were. And then, this year, we made the next best decisions of our lives: we had a beautiful little girl, and ran away together half-way across the country, back to our friends and family. I'm so glad that I've had you, my love and my best friend, beside me this whole time.<br />
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This has been both one of the hardest and one of the best years of our marriage. We've been through some of our biggest struggles yet, and as you've particularly risen to meet those challenges, you've amazed me over and over. I love you so much more today than I did a year ago.<br />
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Last year's anniversary was very much our worst. I was in so much pain, mid-way through that pregnancy, with the fibroids degenerating and leaning on my sciatic nerve so hard that I woke up in the night screaming. And, when I couldn't sleep because of the pain, you would hold me and sing to me. I know you never sing for other people, because your tune's a little off, but that's the most beautiful music I've heard in my entire life. For months, you took care of me. You cooked every meal. You washed all our clothes. You did everything (along with our friends) to move us back home. And then E was born, and you continued on caring for us, through the challenging recovery. At the hospital, as you took on the role of E's and my primary caregiver, many members of the hospital staff told me how lucky I was to have someone like you. And, all that while, you slept for sixteen days on an uncomfortable pull-out couch, getting up with every feeding, and holding me and singing when I got scared.<br />
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And now, as we parent that hilarious, active and challenging child together, I fall in love with you more and more. E loves you so much, and is always braver when you hold her.<br />
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Because I feel the need to include a goofy picture of you every year, I included one from my birthday, when E was three days old. The doctor had just scared us with the possibility of head surgery, and I broke down and cried for quite a while. But then you returned, and rescued my birthday. We read together, and took silly and serious pictures of ourselves, and recorded video messages, telling E how much she aged us already.<br />
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And now I'll watch Doctor Who episodes with you, because you've made me nerdier since I married you.<br />
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From your wifeQueen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-47816019352410870682013-05-27T20:33:00.000-06:002013-05-27T20:33:00.090-06:00Statements of IntentThere's a post, which I've been occasionally writing, and then saving as draft, and then deleting, for the past few months. It's a post about the small compromises which I've made, and how they've made my life as a parent livable. It's about comparing the ideals I had before I procreated, to the realities of parenting. It's also about having to put away all the parenting books that seemed full of guilt messages, and just doing what worked for us.<br />
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And I've deleted that post over and over, because it turns out that I'm terrified discussing parenting choices on the internet. I've been around too long, and know that every small choice has become ridiculously controversial in certain circles.<br />
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This is more of a reminder for myself, and a statement of intent for my blog: while I have opinions, which I sometimes voice a little too strongly in personal conversations, I'm going to stay out of it. We're all getting by as well as we can, making sure that our kids are sleeping, eating and learning as well as they can.<br />
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While I'm making statements of intent: I'm also staying off the parenting boards, and I'm trying to lay off the books (outside of Mayo Clinic guides to development and stuff like that). I'm also making a valiant attempt to avoid googling my child's symptoms, because I'm enough of a hypochondriac about myself that nobody needs for me to start focusing my crazy on the next generation as well.<br />
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And now I'm going to make popcorn and watch a bunch of <i>Arrested Development</i> on Netflix, because in spite of the fact that I now have a kid, I'm still the reigning Queen of the Nation of West Procrasti.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-27167371921684731532013-05-27T20:12:00.000-06:002013-05-27T20:12:24.368-06:00On LeaveLast week I received word that my request for sick leave was approved, and applied retroactively to September. The university credited me this year's tuition, and I'll go back in the fall. In the meanwhile, my library card doesn't work, and I'm not supposed to be engaging in any research/academic work. (Ha.)<br />
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It's a strange feeling, suddenly having that weight off my shoulders. It's now okay that I've been useless for the past year. I've spent the year doing was doing what I was supposed to be doing: taking care of myself and my family. I was sometimes a little hard on myself about my lack of progress, because I know people who finished their dissertations in the midst of being pregnant and having a baby. Of course, I constantly have to remind myself that it's not fair to compare myself to anyone else, because I've been a rather exceptional case. (So exceptional, in fact, that I was granted leave after the terms of my extension explicitly stated that I didn't qualify for leave!)<br />
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It's funny how my brain is more full of ideas and strategies for finishing, now that I'm not registered. I'm going to get myself an alumni library card, since I qualify for one here. I'll start practising my German while the baby's napping, and since it requires the use of a headset microphone, I've ordered a baby monitor, and will watch the little lights for signs of the kid making noise. I'll also take this opportunity to review my primary sources, since it's been a while, and the review will be good for getting my brain going. That's all I'll really do this summer (and meet with my supervisor when we go back to the Island in the summer: he'll want to see the baby, and then we'll draw up a timeline for completion).<br />
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But I'm also going to allow myself some space. I'm on leave, and I'm going to make sure that I appreciate that. This is the first time I haven't been a registered student in a decade, and I want to take some time and enjoy being home with Li'l E.<br />
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This has all coincided with the good news that E won't need surgery (there was some concern, but it has thankfully turned out to be unfounded), and so we now have fewer health professionals in our lives, which means fewer appointments. (Okay, in the next few weeks, she has a physical therapy appointment, 6-month checkups with both her family doctor and her pediatrician, and then her next round of shots. But then we get a break!) More importantly, we no longer have that anxiety hanging over us, and we can just move on with our lives, dealing only with normal baby stuff.<br />
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And so I'm grateful for this bit of respite from all the craziness of the past year. Normal is a nice change from the usual.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-46546312621788436172013-03-05T15:41:00.000-06:002013-03-05T16:02:58.002-06:00Introvert has a child, discovers she's now always being watchedLi'l E is asleep (although we'll see whether she sleeps for more than half an hour). I'm sitting down with a cup of tea (this week, it's David's Teas' Salted Caramel, because I'm apparently in the mood for tea that tastes like candy). I'm finally starting learn how to carve out little moments in my day.<br />
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For a while, it seemed impossible to get anything done or to take any time for myself. At first, Li'l E and I had the double whammy of my slow recovery and her constant feeding (undersized baby more than doubles her weight in the first three months: oy). I also had a serious case of the New Moms, where I didn't know how to get anything done while she was awake, since she wanted to be cuddled constantly. But now she's growing up a little (and so am I), and I've been working on getting her to be more independent. Now, I can at least get housework done while she's awake, and she's just pleased that I talk to her while I work.<br />
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The next hurdle is getting back into the dissertation process. I really don't know how to work while she's awake: she's so demanding, and wants my attention constantly. I'd be too distracted to form many coherent thoughts. (I guess I could do mindless tasks and some editing while she was awake, but writing is another story.) I need a lot of sleep right now in order to continue to function, and so working after she goes to bed is out of the question. I imagine that nap time will become my ideal writing time, once I get on a roll. Li'l E takes several small naps a day, and during her morning naps I've already formed the habit of approaching them with the attitude of "I MUST WORK AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE."<br />
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Really, the problem is that I'm so tired and distracted. Perhaps reintroducing my SAD lamp into my morning routine would alleviate some of the tiredness, but I'm also tired because I'm physically catching up with the requirements of my new life. I don't know how to deal with the distractedness part. Right now, I'm trying to deal with it by taking a little time to be quiet. A cup of tea and a little bit of silence. I grew so accustomed to having endless quiet time at home over these years, and now that I have a small and loud constant companion, I find that I need to deliberately carve out quiet time for myself. I never before realised how much my mental health depends on time spent being alone and quiet.<br />
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So. Where do I go from here? I finish my project of organizing the house, so that I have space to work. (We really didn't get off to a good start here, with my inability to take part in the unpacking process. We've been in survival mode until now.) I get started writing while family is around to deal with the baby, and then create tasks that can be done during naps. I continue to allow myself a little quiet time.<br />
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And now the baby's awake, and I'm typing with one hand. That second cup of tea will have to wait.<br />
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Update: I just got a message from my grad secretary, saying that she's confident that I qualify for medical leave (backdated to the beginning of this school year), even though the terms of my extension stated that I could not apply for leave. Apparently my case is exceptional!Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-49034459301638378852012-08-21T21:28:00.000-06:002012-08-21T21:28:17.396-06:00When pregnancy is weirdSo, it all started at my 10-week checkup.<br />
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Well, I guess it started a few weeks before that, when we started having to tell people around us about the pregnancy earlier than people usually do, because I was showing so much that it was impossible for people not to figure it out. And then they'd give me the side eye and say "You're sure you're only that far along?" That was about the point when my pants were also not really fitting anymore, and I started having pain that was best described by my pregnancy book as round ligament pain (but that stuff's only supposed to happen when you're in your second trimester). Some days it felt like I could almost watch my belly grow. Which I knew was weird, but I also kind of ignored it.<br />
<br />
And then I went for my 10-week checkup, with the GP who did my initial pregnancy test at the university's health services. Our original plan was for me to stay with health services until we moved, at which point I'd be handed over to an OB/GYN. But, at the checkup, the doctor freaked out, and was convinced that I was at least 20 weeks along, or that I was having twins and was about 14 weeks along. Either way, the doctor was beginning to make me feel like those ladies on that TLC show. The doctor kept using the doppler on me, to try to find the baby's heartbeat (because it ought to be easy to find at 20 weeks), but couldn't find anything. But the long time of using the doppler hurt my belly.<br />
<br />
And this all is how I got rushed in for an ultrasound, and how I got a "maternal health specialist" instead of a health services doctor.<br />
<br />
(Oh, and all of this happened while Chris was out of town, chaperoning his school's graduating class.) <br />
<br />
So, a few days (and many medical appointments) later, Chris and I went for my ultrasound (and what really did feel like a moment of truth). We nervously chatted about the possibility of twins, as we sat in the waiting room.<br />
<br />
When the ultrasound began, the tech began asking me weird questions about whether I'd ever had an ultrasound before, and started looking at my kidneys as well. He then said that I had one baby, with a healthy heart rate, who was 10 weeks along. I may have cheered and said "Take that, Dr. [Health Services Doctor]!" in response. And then I thought to ask why I was so big and had all these weird symptoms. And he showed me the image, saying, "So, up here on top is your baby. And allllll this below it? <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/uterine-fibroids/DS00078">They're called fibroids</a>, and they're a significant size. Have you been uncomfortable lately?"<br />
<br />
Okay, first weird part: I already knew all about fibroids, because a good friend had a big one when she was pregnant. But she also had all the symptoms before that, and so I knew all the symptoms and didn't have any. And I may have recently said to her, "Well, at least I know that my pregnancy will be easier than yours, because I've never had fibroids." FAMOUS LAST WORDS, PEOPLE. <br />
<br />
And that's set the tone for the last few months: extra specialist appointments, where I'm reassured that there is very little risk for the baby, but that I'll have a lot of pain (mostly ligament pain, but also pinched nerves, and pain associated with my various squashed innards). The main "complication" is that it's likely/almost guaranteed (and veering towards "it'll take a miracle to avoid") that I'll need a C-Section. I've had a number of health professionals say that they've never seen a case this extreme before, my GP tell me that I'm too complicated for her to handle until after the baby's born, and my chiropractor tell me that I'm almost too complicated for him. I can only walk short distances, and can only stand for a few minutes at a time, and lately I've only been able to sleep in a recliner. Also, I recently had someone ask me if my due date has arrived yet (I'm only half-way there, people!). Also? Apparently there's an intermediate stage of maternity pants, where you have extra elastics and no belly band. I wish I'd known of its existence when I was at 8 weeks, because I've skipped straight to third trimester pants (okay, and muumuus around the house).<br />
<br />
Mostly, though? It's made life funny and weird. Chris and I make jokes about the fibroids being our baby's weird, angry companions (or couches, waterbeds, soccer balls to kick...). I've become That Woman Who Always Talks About Bodily Functions, because fibroids interfere with them and make them weird. Because the baby's up by my ribs now, and pushed far forward, I got to feel the kicks early (especially when he/she kicks me right in the ribs!). Actually, because the kid has holed up right under (and sometimes in) my left rib cage, it's always tricky finding the heartbeat, because it's so close to my own heart that my own heartbeat drowns everything out.<br />
<br />
Oh, and if you look closely, I never have so much "cute pregnant belly" as "why does that pregnant lady have extra lumps on the bottom of her belly?" or sometimes "Is it possible that she's only pregnant on the left half of her body? And now is it visibly shifting?"<br />
<br />
Oh, and my bellybutton is already and outie, and I forced far too many people to look at my bellybutton as it progressed from innie to outie. Because I'm a giver.<br />
<br />
So, that brings you up to date with my life: trying to stay comfortable, trying to sleep, trying not to overshare all of my medical detail to EVERY stranger, trying to write a dissertation chapter, and trying to shift my focus away from the painful lumps and toward the child that's going to be part of our lives sometime around Christmas. <br />
<br />
For a while, I was a little bitter that I didn't get to have a "normal" pregnancy. Now I'm finding the hilarity in being weird.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-55302996678992319512012-07-06T12:55:00.000-06:002012-07-06T12:55:06.264-06:00Christopher's Very Good DayChris has had some moderate ups and downs lately. UP! He's moving back home to the prairies! DOWN! It's very sad to move away from school and church community. UP! Baby on the way! DOWN! His wife is pretty much useless because she's been so sick!<br />
<br />
But lately it's been more UP! than DOWN! for that cheerful husband of mine.<br />
<br />
Especially today. Yesterday was pretty hectic: he was determined to have his classroom entirely packed up, and the entire lab inventoried (because he's amazing and wanted to leave everything so that the new science teacher has an easy time taking over everything) by the end of the day. We also needed to finalize all the details about our future home immediately (our potential new landlord hadn't called our references and approved us yet, while my old apartment complex called and said that there were a few suites available at the end of the month, since we'd put ourselves on a waiting list there weeks ago). We were running around all stressed. Chris had to spend a long day at the school, and what if he had to go back for another day? Do we turn down the apartment complex, presuming that we've actually secured the house?<br />
<br />
But, by the end of yesterday, everything was done. Chris handed in his keys to the school. I got on the phone and made sure that our house was secured. And, when Chris got home, our next door neighbour asked Chris if he wanted to spend the next morning helping to fix up his boat. Chris loves that boat: it's a wooden houseboat, built in the 1930s. He loves that boat, and he loves our semi-retired next-door neighbour, and Chris is always scheming about ways to get in and help Peter work on the boat. I think at one point he was hoping that, if he helped enough with the boat, he'd get to go out on the water in it when it was seaworthy, but now just the work itself makes him ridiculously happy. Any time Peter asks him if he has a minute to help, Chris's response is along the lines of "Aw, gee Mister, really?"<br />
<br />
And so this morning Chris woke up, free from all school responsibilities (he can't really deal with next year until we get to Regina), spent an hour fixing up an old houseboat. And the telescope that he ordered (using gift certificates from the school and as a thank you present from the new science teacher) might arrive today.<br />
And, more officially now that we went over the terms of the lease this morning, we also have a house (minus basement suite) complete with a fire pit and vegetable garden in back, right near the park and the lake (and pretty close to both Chris's school and the university). It's not yet noon, and he's also gone and puttered around the mall, checking out construction progress (his favourite), and getting all squishy about clearance baby items.<br />
<br />
Of course, it's not yet noon, but he's already filed today away as "Christopher's Very Good Day."Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-53614809918916864892012-07-04T14:59:00.000-06:002012-07-04T14:59:34.784-06:00I'll admit I've been keeping my cards close to my chest latelyWell, I didn't intend to disappear for such a long time! At first, right after I wrote that last post, I got very sick (as part of a series of stress-related illnesses), and stayed sick until the New Year. (Also, I got to try all kinds of powerful antibiotics, and may have experienced some rheumatic fever! Fun times at Christmas.) (As another aside, I am your perfect sick party guest: hobbling around, whining about "my rheumatiz." You guys missed a magical time.)<br />
<br />
After I got home from that second trip home, my life was divided between the Bloggable But Stressful (Get the crazy chapter under control and come up with a workable plan for finishing soon!) and the Very Unbloggable Thanks To IRL People Reading This Blog (Let's apply for work closer to home! What if we start a family now?). Some days, it felt like every decision we were facing were some of the biggest decisions we'd ever made in our lives. And somehow they seemed so much scarier than the Big Decisions we made before (or maybe we were younger and more flippant than we are now.) Get married? Sounds like a wonderful plan! Move across the country for grad school? Hey, why not? Sounds fun. (Oh, to be 24 years old again.)<br />
<br />
But now, we've made some decisions, finalized plans, and have even announced them on Facebook (you know, after I told people in person first, because I'm not a monster). We're moving home, and I'm pregnant!<br />
<br />
Dear goodness, those words are simultaneously exciting and terrifying.<br />
<br />
I seriously can't believe this is all happening. And I know that "I'm pregnant and we're moving home to the prairies" sounds like the beginning of a novel about giving up on your dreams, but both of these really feel like the fulfillment of life-long dreams for us. We got Chris a good job in our hometown, in the same city as our entire families. And, barring something major happening, we're staying there. I'm insanely determined to get this dissertation finished, and then I'll figure out what I'm doing. It's been years since I realised that I wasn't cut out for the tenure-track life, but I'll carve my own path. I love working with students, and I'd love to do something university- or research-adjacent. There will be something for me (and it's not urgent for me to find it: the top priority is finishing the dissertation and having this baby; Chris will be making enough to support us until I find something).<br />
<br />
There's this part of me that fears some people will think I'm crazy for having a baby right now (well, at the end of December), or that I'm somehow wasting all this education by not aggressively pursuing a tenure-track position. Or that I'm crazy for having a baby at a point when I don't qualify for EI maternity pay. (But do you know how long it would be until I would qualify? And seriously: we'll be financially fine.)<br />
<br />
Okay. Enough (heading-towards-an-outie) navel-gazing. I'll save the crazy medical details (How I've Spent The Past Month In Doctor's Waiting Rooms, and Why I Keep Baffling Medical Professionals*) for another post.<br />
<br />
In honour of the move back to the homeland, let's finish off with an <b>old school Question Time</b>!<br />
<br />
<b>Time?</b> 1:39pm <br />
<br />
<b>Surroundings?</b> I'm in my office, surrounded by dirty dishes, kleenex boxes, and scraps of printed off translation material. (By the way, I have a cold, and the inability to take cold medicine: pure torture.)<br />
<br />
<b>Tea?</b> Murchies Library Tea. (Why no, I haven't completely cut out caffeine. Why yes, I do know about the risks, but I also have read a terrifying number of medical journal articles and stay well under the safe limit.)<br />
<br />
<b>Wearing</b>? Pyjamas, rubber-soled slippers, <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/tshirts-apparel/miscellaneous/ec64/?srp=40">TARDIS bathrobe</a>, hair that is standing straight on end. (It might be time to bathe soon.) (Uh, you guys, I just found out how much my sister spent on my new bathrobe...)<br />
<br />
<b>Stuck in my head?</b> "A Hundred and One Pounds of Fun" from <i>South Pacific</i>. Because I forced Chris to watched the movie with me this weekend, and this is what I get in return. Mitzi Gaynor's voice in my head for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
<b>What am I most thankful for?</b> My Christopher. He's been phenomenal lately, doing all the cooking and cleaning (in addition to dealing with the madness of the end of the school year), since I've been so sick, sore and tired for the past couple of months. He's a good'un.<br />
<br />
<br />
* Working title.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-81565529331933836392011-12-09T19:43:00.001-06:002011-12-09T20:18:12.061-06:00And then somehow I turned thirty-oneI got back to Victoria on Monday, after a week and a half that I can only describe as being bittersweet, after a week and a half during which time I constantly told people that I needed to "play things by ear." (Read: "I have decided not to make plans in advance, other than with my brother.") It's impossible to describe such a trip as being "good," when you consider the circumstances, but I was glad to be home, glad to be with my family, and glad to have the family that I have. <br />
<br />
I spent a week sleeping in my childhood bedroom, which gave the week an extra surreal quality: I was sleeping there on my own (Chris having flown back after the weekend), in my room of twenty-three years. In that room, there were small remnants of my years there: the colour of the walls, one picture, one shelf, snowflake stickers on the window. However, everything else in the room was from my Grandmother's years there, and more so from my sister's current occupation of the room. It's like when the five of us (my parents, my two siblings and I) sat together in my parents' living room: it was familiar, and I could not escape all the evidence of what all has changed (and the reason why we were all together). <br />
<br />
Now I'm back in Victoria, trying to adjust back to my routine here, but also very aware of the fact that we fly back to Regina in a week, with all of my missed work looming over me. And, in the midst of all of this, my birthday was yesterday. I'm thirty-one now; I feel like I just got used to being thirty. I really <i>liked</i> being thirty. "Thirty-one" sounds strange to me. And I usually make a big deal about my birthday; I invest a lot of emotion and expectations into the day. This year, I could only handle small things. Before I left Regina, I invited a couple friends and all their wee daughters over to my parents' house, to share ice cream cake with me. (Having four kids -- all of whom call me "Auntie" -- blow out my candles was fun.) Yesterday, I met two friends downtown in the afternoon; we had tea and went Christmas shopping at my favourite little stores. My all-time favourite storekeeper hugged me five times and gave me a birthday present. Then, my cousin Ky and I bussed to a restaurant, where we met Chris and a couple more friends for supper.<br />
<br />
Hm. Now that I wrote that out, it sounds like I still made a big deal about my birthday. It was all thrown together at the last minute ("The only day that's available for shopping is Thursday. Oh, that's Maryanne's birthday? Let's go for tea!" "You know, your birthday is on Thursday. Shouldn't we at least go out for supper?") but I loved it more that way. I've done the big-party thing, and that was a nice thing for other years. <br />
<br />
So, yeah. Thirty-one. Thiiiiiirty-one. Not too bad. And it gave me an excuse to have a nice, relaxing day with friends.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-84185858554148938632011-11-25T00:24:00.001-06:002011-11-25T00:56:37.113-06:00Unexpectely Homeward BoundChris and I are packing up, and tomorrow morning we're flying to Saskatchewan for an unplanned trip home. Normally, I'd be thrilled about the fact that I'm getting a week and a half back home, in addition to the two weeks we'll have at Christmas. But this is a trip that none of us wanted us to have to take: we're heading home for the funeral of my little brother's beautiful, funny, wonderful wife.<br />
<br />
This is pretty closely connected to why there's been silence at this here blog lately. Well, for the first while I was just wrapped up in research and writing, in restructuring some dissertation plans and all that. But then we found out that my sister-in-law was sick, and out of respect to the more private members of my families, I kept all that off the blog. But it was all I could really think about, and so it was easier just to maintain radio silence here.<br />
<br />
And then suddenly she was gone, and we hardly had any time to prepare ourselves for the idea. But tomorrow, I get on an airplane, and for a week and a half I'll be able to make myself useful to my family. I'm still trying to prepare myself emotionally for being home, and for how much more real this is going to become for me. But it'll be better for me to be able to help, instead of wandering around aimlessly here, bursting into tears while holding the soup bowls she gave me for Christmas a few years ago. <br />
<br />
So, we'll see whether I keep up any blogging while I'm home. But I thought, in the spirit of the holiday that our American friends are celebrating today, that I'd mention a few reasons why I'm thankful today. I'm thankful for my amazing friends, who have been overwhelming me with their love and very concrete support over the past few days. I'm thankful for airplanes, unlimited phone plans, and computers that make the distance between here and home seem to be not as great. I'm thankful that I have a Christopher who takes care of me every day, and has even managed to make me laugh a few times this week. I'm thankful for my amazing family. And I thankful that one beautiful girl came into our lives and changed us, even though she left us decades too soon.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-79718736315365719842011-09-10T22:03:00.000-06:002011-09-10T22:03:48.531-06:00A little inspirationToday, my block had a big yard sale (a yearly event organized by our Block Watch Association, intended to help us get to know our neighbours), and in our classic style, Chris and I made a profit of -$3.75. Our landlady, Joyce, already knew this was going to happen. When we got outside this morning, she shouted across the yard, "I'll keep an eye on Chris! He always spends more than he makes at these things. Then you just have more junk to sell next year."<br />
<br />
He was behaving himself remarkably well this year (meanwhile, I was trying to unload whatever I could at 25 or 50 cents apiece). While I was getting to pack up the rest of our stuff and get it ready to haul to the thrift store, Chris came over and said, "I need to consult with you about something I found. It only costs $5, but it's big." I may have rolled my eyes a little, because you have no idea how many pieces of archaic technology and how many semi-broken telescopes he has brought into our home. I should have noticed how proud of himself he looked.<br />
<br />
Our next-door neighbour had offered him their 1926 electric Singer cabinet sewing machine for $5. (Which works!) Both of our moms have Singer cabinet sewing machines, although both of theirs are treadle-style. It's surprising how many women in my family have Singer sewing machines as side tables. It feels like home, having one in my home. It even smells like home.<br />
<br />
It turns out that the only place in our apartment where it fits is next to my (new!) desk. I'm leaving it open for now, because what better inspiration for writing about working women in the late 1920s than this view: <br />
<br />
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<br />Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-20280069760099890662011-09-07T14:16:00.000-06:002011-09-07T14:16:37.620-06:00I'm seriously thirtyThis was a text message exchange between Ky and me this morning:<br />
<br />
Ky: "I keep singing inner city pressure, but saying dragons instead of pressure."<br />
Me: "If I could draw, I'd draw a cartoon of Inner-City Dragons for you."<br />
Ky: "Try"<br />
Me (seriously two hours later): "As soon as I get the scanner driver installed, I'll email you some Inner-City Dragons. They'll amaze your face off."<br />
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I'm thirty. <br />
<br />
<br />Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-29710019500621188712011-08-31T17:34:00.001-06:002011-08-31T20:04:37.225-06:00My first course evaluationsI stopped by the department office and got my course evaluations (from the course I taught in June), and it's pretty much what I expected: mostly positive, with some constructive criticism and a couple (but only a couple) of very negative reviews. In the comments section, most of the criticism will be easily rectified by making each day's lecture's organization more explicit (pretty much all I'll actually change is that I'll make a single slide that shows the roadmap for where we're going that day), and also by faking confidence. I learned how to handle questions that I didn't know by the end of the course, by when you're only teaching for three weeks, they remember the moments where you looked like a deer in headlights a little too well.<br />
<br />
The percentage breakdown of the survey they filled out shows that the majority of my students rated me favorably, which is encouraging. My highest scores were regarding my availability to help and provide feedback, and the respect that I gave to students and their ideas. And by "highest" I mean "the majority of students rated me as 'excellent' on both counts, and the one student who was mad at me even conceded that I was 'adequate.'" I'm really happy about both of those, because I worked really hard on being available to help, and on creating a respectful space within the classroom, and it's gratifying that they noticed. With everything else, it was in the middling-to-good range, which I know is an okay place to start. (The lowest ranking was regarding my clarity in explaining things, and that will be rectified by making small tweaks that I've been learning. Hooray for teaching workshops!)<br />
<br />
I had a small handful of really negative comments, but they're all a mixed bag. Like, one student thinks that I don't make any sense in my lecturing, and another one thinks that the grading system was harsh but my lectures were "very effective [and] well put together." I had one absolutely negative comment (likely the same student who gave me consistently low rankings, and likely the same student who was glaring at me on the last day of class): one student outright stated that I wasn't qualified to teach the course because I'm a specialist in an earlier period, but she/he was mostly was mad that they had to memorize IDs. (It was a pretty heated comment: he/she ended off that comment with the statement "This is not an education," because apparently the whole course was based in memorization?) I find that comment interesting, partly because other students specified that the IDs helped to guide them in their studies, and also because on an absolute basis, the short answer part of the exams (which is where the identification part came in) constituted a small part of the final grade, and put a lot of emphasis on evaluating significance rather than on regurgitating details. <br />
<br />
What can I make of that? For one thing, it would have been interesting to get feedback after they'd gotten back their essays and after they'd written the final (with a three-week course, by necessity the essay is due right before the last class). After the final, a lot of students expressed relief at the fact that I really didn't ask them anything unexpected on the final, and found the IDs part to be easier than they expected. <br />
<br />
So, on the one hand, I can be relieved that the majority of students had a favourable impression of the course, and then I can learn from the helpful comments. They all reflect things that I've been already working on improving, and so I'm glad that I'm on the right track. I'm a little amused by how some of the comments contradict each other (I'm both organized and disorganized? I'm both a passionate lecturer and uncomfortable in front of students? I should use slides both more and less?), but that's what you get from a diverse group. I'm learning how to reach out to different kinds of learners, and I'll be a lot less terrified when I teach my next course, and so the unevenness in evaluations should level out in the future.<br />
<br />
Now, all I can do is put these away, attend teaching workshops when I can, and hope that these evaluations were positive enough to help me get further teaching work. And focus on finishing this dissertation.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-8381587614083165892011-08-29T23:48:00.003-06:002011-08-29T23:50:58.154-06:00Moments in the kitchenI'm back in Victoria, back in the land of moderate temperatures and occasionally remembering I live by the ocean. I'm wearing long pants but no socks, and actually wore a light jacket this morning. Classic late summer in Victoria.<br />
<br />
It's so good being home after being away for seven weeks. The fact that I'm in my own home and that I'm away from the high temperatures means that I feel like cooking and baking all the time. It's not that I didn't have access to a kitchen while I was away: on the contrary, I even made this on my last week staying with the in-laws:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmFwxSDfGI_FBm53LVxcEMwionFJhgVjPzu_AMkkf14DhA7rrqQnQ8cuh0yqhKBRCN0biaZhWVYzA8-T6LyrduRGKsef9a1hrgMIXFq1FxInGkSa0AbODJJoeZwJ8wNFj1_mv/s1600/IMG_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmFwxSDfGI_FBm53LVxcEMwionFJhgVjPzu_AMkkf14DhA7rrqQnQ8cuh0yqhKBRCN0biaZhWVYzA8-T6LyrduRGKsef9a1hrgMIXFq1FxInGkSa0AbODJJoeZwJ8wNFj1_mv/s400/IMG_0034.JPG" width="285" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(The little-sister-in-law's wedding also played a major role in my being a little too busy to blog for the last part of our SK trip.)</span></i></div><br />
But I didn't realise how much I had been homesick for my own kitchen until I made my porridge here on Sunday morning, and was all "Hello, My Own Measuring Cups! I missed you so much!" And so, between the cooling weather, the overwhelming joy about being reunited with my own utensils and appliances, and my need to work through some challenges with my current chapter, I've been finding myself retreating to the kitchen.<br />
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I've also been thinking about what I love so much about preparing food. I got reflecting on it again this afternoon, as I started making some polenta for our supper. And I started making an incomplete list of my favourite moments in cooking and baking (in no particular order):<br />
1. That instant, when making polenta, when the cornmeal I'm whisking in the boiling water suddenly thickens, and instead of having a loose mixture of cornmeal and water, I have this gloopy cornmealy mush that's sputtering everywhere. (This is also one of the more exciting parts of my cooking process.)<br />
2. The moment when sugar becomes caramel, and I have to pay close attention to the colour of it, so that it gets to be a satisfying dark colour but doesn't get burnt.<br />
2a) The satisfying way in which caramel bubbles up and hisses when you add butter and cream to it, when making caramel sauce. <br />
3. (2b?) Turning a<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creme_caramel"> crème caramel</a> out on a platter, and discovering that the caramel really did turn to liquid while the egg mixture hardened into a custard. Simultaneously! In the same pan! Science!<br />
4. Lifting off the lid of the heavy dutch oven and finding that a once-tough piece of meat has turned into something tender and wonderful, like pulled pork.<br />
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Those sorts of moments (along with that one when you open the oven and and see the golden tops of baked bread or pies) are what drive me to the kitchen, they're what get me finding excuses to make caramel sauce (admittedly more than my love of consuming caramel sauce): these physical and chemical transformations that, even when I understand the science behind them, seem like magic. I really still haven't lost my sense of wonder in the kitchen. (Okay, one more moment like that: when I first try something that I have made, and discover that it actually tastes like food! I still can't believe that's possible.)<br />
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I need a little more of a sense of wonder in my day. Because there's not a lot of wonder or magic in the process of trying to get the words in my head to cooperate with the words on the computer screen, or in trying to make some sense of this current chapter.<br />
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You know, I used to have a sense of wonder about history and about writing. Maybe it's time to reconnect with that.<br />
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(And now I'll stop rambling and eat one of those cookies that I made today. Chris sure isn't complaining about the time I spent in the kitchen today.)Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-47075449920259248362011-07-25T16:54:00.001-06:002011-08-08T10:55:03.402-06:00Doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalidSo, I think that the WWII course took everything out of me. After that whole "<a href="http://westprocrastination.blogspot.com/2011/06/half-formed-thoughts-by-girl-with.html">I was so tired after giving the final that I was pretty much sleepwalking outside, and ended up with a scraped nose and a concussion" episode</a>, I finished all the marking, packed, drove to Saskatchewan, attended a church camp, and promptly caught the Cold That Ate Vancouver Island. Two and a half weeks later, I'm finally getting better. Well, I had been getting better, and then had an allergic reaction to a cat, and spent a few days where I hardly could get out of bed. So, that was an adventure. There wasn't much to blog, since my thoughts were mostly occupied with such thoughts as "Naps after taking Benadryl are particularly strange naps," and "It is convenient that my in-laws possess a fainting couch, because I really am doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalid this week. Sometimes I'm worried that this cold is just in my head and is an excuse to sit around on a chaise lounge and read Sherlock Holmes mysteries,* but then I try to move around and start coughing like I have consumption."<br />
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But today I'm starting to feel better. I even felt well enough to tease the in-laws' cat (without actually touching her, since that would cause an allergic reaction), which is how Chris knew I was feeling better. Maybe tomorrow I'll even leave the house, and start visiting people in town. You know, since I'm IN SASKATCHEWAN and all. <br />
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***********<br />
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In other news, I'm trying out Google+ now, and am still figuring out what I think about that. If you're trying it out too, you can find me using the gmail address on the sidebar. <br />
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*<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> You know, it is a surreal experience reading the entirety of the Sherlock Holmes stories in the course of a few weeks. You start noticing funny things, like how apparently everyone's response to traumatic experiences is to suffer from "brain-fever"? What is a brain-fever? Dramatic things happen in Prague, secret societies happen in the United States, murder is apparently okay if a lady's honour was at stake, mysterious wives come from South America, and Empire and racism are everywhere (unsurprisingly). Also, I have trouble not picturing Holmes and Watson as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherlock_%28TV_series%29">Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman</a>, but I picture Mycroft Holmes as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_fry">Stephen Fry</a>, even though the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1515091/">new Sherlock Holmes movie</a> isn't even out yet. But I digress.</span></i>Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-74388545048701215372011-06-27T22:28:00.000-06:002011-06-27T22:28:20.079-06:00Half-formed thoughts by the girl with the scraped noseOn Friday, I gave a final exam, and then came home, packed and went on a camping trip. It was kind of an abrupt transition, to go from the insane pace of the three-week course to a camping trip by the ocean. I was so exhausted on that first night of camping, after all those late nights of lecture writing, and early mornings of teaching, and then that long drive through rush hour traffic and then setting up a campsite, that I was pretty much sleep walking while I was trying to get ready for bed. I thought that I was used to the dark enough that I didn't need to use my flashlight to walk between the tent and our car, as I went and got a few last things. I was wrong: as soon as I turned back from the car, I tripped over a large boulder, fell and landed right on my nose. I was so tired that I hardly even noticed that I was falling; Ky said that I fell in slow motion, and she thought it was strange how I didn't put my hands out to stop my fall. Really, I was asleep while walking, and while it registered a little bit that my shins hit something hard, it really surprised me when suddenly I felt my nose scraping against rocks. <br />
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Chris and Ky came running, as they heard me quietly say "Owie. Owie. My nose." We got me cleaned up and I went straight to bed (and to sleep), and it wasn't until the next morning that we discovered that I had a mild concussion. (It is a good thing that we were camping with a nurse.) The dizziness and clumsiness made the rest of the camping trip interesting (I was like a baby deer, trying to walk around the beach the next morning), but I was camping with good friends and I enjoyed myself in spite of myself. <br />
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And now I'm back to the real world, and I have so much work to do. It's strange trying to get a lot of marking done while you're still in the midst of post-camping chaos. (Not to mention the post-concussion headache, and the scraped face that makes it difficult to wear my glasses!) It's even stranger realising that we will be leaving for Saskatchewan within the week. By this time next week, we should be with my family.<br />
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What a strange month June has been.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-45209638619945124762011-06-23T23:46:00.000-06:002011-06-23T23:46:26.005-06:00FinallyI gave my last lecture today. Tomorrow they write the final. It was so nice spending the evening not panicking about my lack of knowledge about some battle or specific WWII event. (Because I seriously had a steep learning curve with this course. So much so that I worry about how the students answered the "Instructor is knowledgeable in the course content" portion of the course evaluations.) <br />
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But tomorrow I just give them the final, and sit and mark their essays while they write. Do you know how many times I've done exactly that, in all my years as a TA? Finally I'm doing something that's in my comfort zone. <br />
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And then I'm going away and going camping, leaving my marking behind for two whole days. Two days where I'm not thinking about limited liability strategies, total war, tanks, generals, atrocities, and students' needs. And where I'm far away from my email. Bliss.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-12552360286646130872011-06-18T20:32:00.000-06:002011-06-18T20:32:00.834-06:00Quick teaching reflectionI'm deep in the midst of midterm-marking, but I noticed something that I do in my self-talk about my teaching abilities:<br />
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When I have a good day with the students, I think "Hey, today went well!" but when it's a bad day I think "I'm terrible at teaching and my students are probably disappointed that they decided to take this class from me!"<br />
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When a student does well on a midterm I think, "What a clever student! He/she really gets it!" but when a student gets a low mark I think, "I did a terrible job of teaching this! Was I really unclear that day?"<br />
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Huh. Apparently I treat the good things as nice little aberrations, or things outside of my control, and I treat the bad things as being The Norm, and There's Something Wrong With Me. Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-36127010976584790532011-06-14T12:28:00.000-06:002011-06-14T12:28:13.156-06:00Blogging during my office hourNo one has shown up for this office hour, which is okay with me. There was a big rush of students showing up for my office hours at the beginning of the term, because they were figuring out what to do for their major assignment, and some of the non-majors wanted to make sure that they understood what's involved in a history course. Now, they've written the midterm but haven't gotten it back yet, and are at the stage in their assignments where they've figured out what they're doing but don't need feedback on preliminary written stuff.<br />
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That's all a long way of saying that I didn't expect anyone to show up today, and that's cool with me, because it means that I can use this hour to wind down after lecturing for two straight hours. <br />
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I'm feeling a little more competent every day. I gave a midterm yesterday, and it took them all exactly the amount of time I designed for it to take. Nothing in the midterm surprised them, but it challenged them enough, and made them work for their mark. And so I'm pleased with the quality of the midterm. I know how I'd change it in the future, but I'm happy with how it turned out this time.<br />
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And then I spent the weekend giving myself a crash course in Japanese history, while reading a major book or two and one giant historiographical essay, and today was able to turn that around into a coherent lecture that the students understood. I was able to handle any questions they asked, and tie it to stuff that they've learned on other days. I sounded like an expert in the room and wasn't too self-deprecating. Most importantly, I managed to teach much more than was in the textbook, and reflect on some of the claims that the textbook author made. This is something that I felt like was lacking in my lectures that were about areas outside of my comfort zone. <br />
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So, I guess I'm gaining confidence, and am becoming more competent as a result of it. Maybe I'll survive the month after all.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10179443.post-37319669614949038182011-06-11T19:51:00.000-06:002011-06-11T19:51:12.893-06:00Things are looking upEarlier this week, I didn't know how I was going to make it through June. I was having trouble keeping up with writing lectures, and feeling like I didn't know enough about WWII, and then in the midst of all my stress I got a computer virus and ended up wiping my hard drive.* And then ended up having more problems with re-installing everything, and making silly mistakes, and ended up wiping the hard drive about four different times until I got it right. Because, you know, in a week where you're hardly getting enough sleep and are buried under a pile of work, you have time to wipe your hard drive and re-install Windows and all your programs and drivers four times. <br />
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Earlier this week, I also felt like I was The Worst Teacher In Existence. I worried that I wasn't understanding the content well enough and that my students were not learning what they needed to learn, and maybe were regretting taking a class from a new instructor. <br />
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And then things started to change. By the end of the week, I had a couple of really good classes, and worked to make sure that I went back and reviewed the important stuff so that they understood. And I started finding little ways to get through to them; having a couple of discussion classes helped so that we could all get comfortable with each other. <br />
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It's nice having 35 students, and seeing them every weekday. I'm gradually getting to know each student, and each student's particular learning needs and styles. I'm learning how to communicate differently with the science majors and the English majors, and how to get each of them to understand how a historian researches and learns. <br />
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And now? I love my students. They're all so eager to understand everything and to do well. They approach me before class, because they found a neat source and wanted to show me how cool it is. They send me emails about colorized footage that they found on Youtube. They humour me when I make them watch clips of Casablanca at the beginning of their discussion class, and laugh at the right parts. <br />
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I felt so proud when I saw the student that told me she was too shy to speak up in discussion class make a real effort and take charge of her discussion group. I get excited when I watch them all become friends, and watch as a class dynamic develops. <br />
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At this rate, I think I'm really going to miss them after the course is over.<br />
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* By the way, thanks to Laptopocalypse 2011, I finally ditched McAfee, which was useless and then so very user-non-friendly after I wiped my hard drive. I read a million reviews and have now switched to <a href="http://www.eset.com/us/">ESET</a>, and I love it so much that I want to write about it in all-caps and many exclamation points all the time. Half the price of McAfee! And apparently it's amazingly effective! And it runs so quietly in the background! Why the heck did I stay with McAfee for all those years? Seriously, after the week I had, if I could hug a security suite, I would hug ESET.Queen of West Procrastinationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17216968234999269409noreply@blogger.com4