a cross-posted list

thinking about matt leaving for baghdad, and how fucked up i am over it. last night i wanted to call him back and keep him on the phone because if he was on the phone, he couldn’t be sent away from me and sarah and greg and his family and his wife and everyone else who loves him – because you can’t know him and not love him. and yet i know that this love is enough, that it will wrap layers of protection around him, and that it will bring him home to us.

thinking about assessment in online pedagogy, and how the things i’m reading point to a lack of research in this area. thinking that i have, once again, found myself at a crossing point where my reading and my interests and my various jobs are all meshing, and that maybe this is a direction that will really work. i spent an hour last night requesting books from the library, and will spend another hour or two tonight requesting articles. this is a good feeling, and borders on the excitement i’ve been so desperately looking for.

thinking about sex – ok, thinking about sex too much. it’s been a long time, and i find myself wondering if what i need is just some rockin’ sexual chemistry to knock me out of this ongoing neutral.

thinking about the turn of the season, the coming of fall, and sleeping warm between flannel sheets. thinking about pumpkin soup and hot chocolate and corn mazes and the crunch of leaves underfoot. thinking about football games on tv and mugs of hot cider and the way the light is golden this time of year.

thinking about chemistry. i spent most of yesterday baking challah for our (very early) rosh hashanah dinner. this particular recipe requires three rises – make the dough, rise an hour, knead the dough, rise an hour, braid the dough, rise an hour, and then into the oven it goes. the dough just would not rise – at least not to my expectations – and while i swam my laps yesterday the not-rising dough turned into this whole allegory for my relationships in the past year – y’know, bad chemistry, or not enough heat, or lopsided braiding, etc – and i had prepared this whole witty story in my head that i was going to present as i took the lopsided flat loaf out of my bag and set it on the table – and then it was perfect. perfect – and i’m sure there’s an allegory to go with that as well, but i haven’t figured it out yet.

thinking about talking like a pirate – it is, after all, talk like a pirate day, and it’s too silly of a thing not to be all about. i am wearing my pirate bandana and my super wench tee with pride.

sex

N and I talked about sex last night. Might not seem outrageous being that we’re married, but it’s something I rarely talk about. Once again, that may seem strange because I’m (or I consider myself) such a sexual person. I just don’t talk about it. Anyway, we talked about the ways we’re different – and I was amused that the ways we’re different are so stereotypical for our genders. He’s a visual person – and I’m so so mental. It was just funny. We talked for a long time, which was really nice, except that I was exhausted and totally ready to pass out.

I noticed this morning that I have made my mark on the house. How’s that? Books. Everywhere. In the spare room, Great Books on a folded quilt with a pencil for a bookmark – I was sprawled there reading last night. In my “office,” an edition of Eliot right on top of the answering machine – I was thinking Prufrock for the message. In the bathroom, The Animal Family – I was carrying it around and must’ve put it down there. In the living room, among the stacks, Orlando – I paused in my cataloging to read. In the kitchen, The Western Canon – again, must’ve been carrying it around. I’m making this place MINE, one book at a time.

Oh, and for those who have asked, yes, the hole in the street is better. It’s all gone, actually, and now they’re at work making more holes further up. Good times.

some links

A think that annoys me is that once an update is moved off this index page, it ceases to be read. What’s the point of keeping archives then? Maybe that indicates a lack of interest? I know that when I start really reading someone’s site, I make a point of reading the entire thing, finish to start. But maybe I just have too much time on my hands.

These people clearly have too much time on their hands, though the keg one cracked me up. And what the hell is this? I read it at least twice and still have no clue. This article breaks my heart and just makes me sick because it is so very true. I hate how illiterate we’re becoming – and how few people can write! I suppose, then, that this site should be some consolation. At least they’re reading.

Had a thought this weekend. Michelle was talking about Principal Nick’s family, how they don’t know much about her, including the fact that she’s bi. It was just strange to hear her say it – it’s so much a part of who she is and always has been, at least as long as I’ve known her. And I wonder if I’m the same way and if when I tell people they say to themselves “Oh yeah, I’ve known that forever.” I want to be that way, if I’m not already. I guess it’s strange to put it in words.