The Week

Last night I took Blaze to his piano lesson. He was in high spirits (he loves the piano lessons). He talks and talks and tells his teacher *everything*. I love it. 

Other things he told me yesterday: His friend has a phone and now Blaze knows the phone number: 4-7. or perhaps 7-4.

He frequently worries that his backpack is on upside-down. 

He didn't know that "comedian" refers to funny person--he thought it was an American Indian tribe. 

 

We had a hard (I think) frost last night. Poor flowers. 

I called home during my walk home yesterday and Papa Leopard answered. What is this new world of retirement?!

The Weekend

 

Did I mention that our sump pump broke (or we discovered it was broken) right before some five inches of rain? That was fun. Things are drying out now. 

We always go to the art museum in the spring because they have nice gardens. It was overcast and 40 degrees, but not raining. But I think the tulips (young) were closed for the weather. 

Blaze said the hyacinths look like banana peels. He also liked the pansies the best, for aesthetic color-blocking reasons. 

The spotted orchids make me think of dalmatians. 

On Saturday I said a few words at a political gathering--something I've never done in my life. Though the people holding signs was a flash-back to every year on my birthday, which was the March for Life when I was growing up. 

I was asked to talk about Thomas Paine's pamphlet, Common Sense. And whenever the real world wants a little political theory, I oblige. (It's rare enough.)

It was raining and cold. Francisco came and the boys stayed home. Francisco videoed a bit, which is just the sweetest thing. 

Every time we visit this art museum it's during lent, so I'm especially drawn to the depictions of Palm Sunday.

And of course--of clouds. I'm certain these are my favorite pictures every time. 

Four more weeks. It's not that I want the semester to be over. But it is that there's a lot to do this month. 

Also: I'm never writing another book and I think I'll just abandon this one. 

The Weekend

Francisco got me candy and chocolates and my work friend brought me donuts. I felt so loved in the wake of the workshop. 

Stations: This version was so ridiculous at points that I accidentally shot a deep eye roll at a teenager who has babysat for us across the church; I didn't realize what was happening until I saw her cracking up. Thankfully, though, my very intense critical engines don't mean that I can't still be with Jesus in this, my favorite, devotion. Why are later versions so often a loss and so rarely an improvement? I think we started with the oldest versions at the beginning of lent and are moving to the most recent and it feels like a race to the bottom. (And I don't think the oldest one is perfect!)

 

The Week

Book manuscript workshop: The kindest guests ever. A lot of fun times. Totally exhausted. Totally overwhelming. (Dinner--when we didn't have to talk about my book and when I drank two old-fashioneds--was totally delightful.)

 

Quote

"For instance, people who eat nuts in theatres do this most when the contestants are bad." 

Thank goodness for Aristotle making me laugh out loud this morning. 

The Week and a Quote

There were big storms last night--and tornados half an hour from us. Storms plus book workshop (today) and I have been anxious! What I'm telling myself this morning--it's not about the book, it's about the ideas, the discussion. So I'm going to focus on and be grateful for those things for the next 26 hours or so. 

Deep breaths. 
 

Francisco and I met for a little marriage counseling with our therapist yesterday. She came to our house. She insisted she didn't want to be paid. She said that she likes us, that she's retired, and that if we insist on money, she'd like us to donate to the food bank. Such an incredibly loving therapist--and such a beautiful example of the way economic exchange can transform. 

OH MY GOODNESS. Last night, out of nowhere, Blaze started talking: "I've been dreading Wednesday all week because Wednesday is yoga and it's so boring. They say it's yoga and an adventure, but there's never an adventure!"

The Week

An amazing moment yesterday. Background: I offered the off-campus students two options--pass/fail on their homework; a regular grade. 

Most asked to be graded. One asked for pass/fail. Last week I told him he did excellent, really top-notch work (he's been improving a lot in his willingness to critique Aristotle over the course of the semester). This week has asked me, just out of curiosity, what would me grade on this have been. I said an A. His face lit up with delight. Ten minutes later, during group work, he called me over, Can you write that on my paper, so I can show the other guys. (I think they talk about and compete over their grades outside of class.) So I did. 

The Week

Off-campus teaching was good--although the class was ended twenty-five minutes early unexpectedly. It really kills me to not be in charge of the timing for my class! Working on acceptance and a realization that I'm not in control and things won't be perfect. 

A student asked if I'd be doing this next semester (I won't) and was hoping I'd do the class again soon. That is so hard! I don't know--perhaps I'll be able to do this class again; perhaps I won't. Again, not fully in my control. 

We listen to podcasts as we travel. I think the students are a little sick of the podcasts (I like them!) and so one student held nonstop conversation with me on the way home, so I never got to put it on. I enjoy talking more, anyway. 

And this whole travel thing means that there is lots of time to chat with students. I'm learning way too much about how little they read and am contemplating how to encourage them!

In the evening, I had dinner with colleagues, students, and a very nice guest. It was at a new "restaurant" that is only open for scheduled events. I have notes (though I am grateful for this new place): The lighting was too bright for an evening dinner. The water/wine glasses, which are both identical, are far too small--about 4 oz. Just guess how many times I refilled my water. And the wine is not free flowing, you really have to work to obtain it. 

Otherwise, a lovely evening. 

 

The Week

My absolute favorite peachy-colored daffodils came out! (Perhaps there's an all-peach one that I love even more.)

The Week

At the end of this week is my book manuscript workshop. I'm getting nervous--not because I think anything will go wrong, but because this is an intense amount of attention to my stuff! (And also, I know it's essential, but who really likes criticism?) The attendees are already starting to send me their comments, and I'm way too nervous to read them. Until I read them I can have a silly fantasy in my head that no changes will be necessary. Once we have the workshop, I'll feel snowed under with responses for a bit until I can sort what revision I need to do and set myself up with a to do list. Sigh. Impending chaos; impending work. 

This week, also: advising. 

The Weekend

Saturday: We walked to a nearby garden to see the beginnings of spring, then coffee shop with the family, a little bit of the baseball game, an arcade we found in the basement of the library, a little bit of the volleyball game (purchased with chips and popcorn--the boys ran around the field house). Francisco took Q out for Mexican and then we all watched some Harry Potter. 

At one point, Q asked, when I mentioned that I'm workshopping my book next week: "Do you think next year we'll get into the thinking-about-publishers part of your book?" I love the "we." He suggested Penguin Random House and offered to research others. 

When we were eating our lenten Friday fried fish at the Sunoco the other week, we noticed an advertisement for a "Festival of Miracles" posted on the soda machine. As I walked home Friday after the Stations of the Cross, I passed a blue church on the side of the road with people lined up outside. A young girl in a hat held a sign alerting those who drive by to the festival. Men in yellow vests directed traffic as people parked up a field. The young girl's fedora blew into the road and without looking at the oncoming traffic, she went after it. My parental panic button, over-pressed, constricted my chest. The truck slowed and stopped. My initial feeling was sadness for the people so desperate, so miracle-chasing. But then I thought about Flannery, who I've been thinking about a lot since it's her hundredth birthday. I think she would have attended the Festival. And I thought about the Stations that I was coming from--the greatest miracle, the miracle that secured the possibility of heaven for us, the miracle that becomes present to us over and over--comes not from an escape from suffering (though Jesus asked that this cup pass from Him), but through the suffering, in the process redeeming all our suffering. So with Christ I often ask that this cup of anxiety, of fatigue, be taken from us. And then I am trying to figure out how to pick up the cross and follow Him. My faith is not that the way will be easy, but that the way to heaven has been opened.

The Weekend

The magnolia trees are ridiculous right now.

After work, I stopped by our library's quilt exhibit for a moment, which was a delight.

Then Francisco dealt with the kids while I went to stations. They switched this week from the traditional prayers to a 1970s version where the prayers don't sound anything like prayers. Below: Some fascinating depictions of women. You know I cannot turn off my (God-given!) critical faculties when exposed to new materials!

The evening weather was just too good to be true, but the kids were beat, so we left them at home with an audiobook and a cellphone (this is a whole new world and one I am really here for!) and drove over to our favorite nature walk. Sublime and I found a crinoid. The Virginia bluebells will take another week or so, though. 

Sorry for all the breakfast pictures, but I cooked the eggs perfectly and it was so good with the asparagus. 

Overall: Spring is good. As always, I'm trying to do too much at work. I love teaching. I love people. I hate emails. 

Oh--and I really loved this about Lazarus and art. The piece claimed that the painting of Lazarus was "the last in a sequence of images showing scenes from the Passion before Christ's entry into Jerusalem." I guess we can't take theological stuff from the Washington Post, because I don't think? the Passion starts before Christ's entry into Jerusalem (I think it's after the last supper?), but since we're in lent, it's fitting to think about Lazarus.