In Praise of Doing Not Very Much

During the Victorian era, the best known and most influential art critic was John Ruskin. (He also possessed a quite commanding set of whiskers, but that's a post for another time.)  Ruskin was not without his faults, but I find this quote especially useful:  "In order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed:  They must be fit for it.  They must not do too much of it.  And they must have a sense of success in it."  Wise words, indeed.

FryDaddy and I had gotten off that track.  Speaking only for myself, I was fit for the work I was doing, so I had that going for me, but I was doing too much of it (certainly in too short a time span) and I wasn't feeling much of a sense of success in it.  Vacations are good places to reset those sorts of clocks. We were fortunate enough to have a place to go where there was very little to do.  I know that many people enjoy doing this&that on vacation and we've had that sort of trip before and enjoyed it greatly.  But there's often a problem with those trips - there's so much to see and do that you tend to be checking things off a list the whole time and to do that, you need to gogogogo.  Therefore, I tend to come home tired from those experiences and need a vacation from my vacation.

We were also helped out by the coastal weather which had plenty of drizzle and overcast conditions that seemed to whisper, "No, not yet.  Just hunker down here - where's that novel you brought?"  I can't really explain how lovely it was to just turn off the phone, sleep in, pad about a lovely home with a second cup of coffee and spend the day reading, playing games, strolling under the Spanish-moss-draped trees wondering  if we'll see an alligator basking in the lagoon and then doing it all over again the next day.

So we're back now and bills and phone messages need to be attended to, writing deadlines are beginning to strain against their chains, and I have two classes to teach that mean three 10 hour days a week for the next five weeks.  And it's all doable.

I like to pick up souvenirs when I travel and this trip I brought home a heavy diner-style coffee mug to remind me of the importance of "zero tasking." (You can see the picture at the top of the post.)  As soon as I finish my coffee, I'll rinse it out and take it to the office, where I think I need it.

Fit for it + Not too much of it + Sense of Success in It = Happy at Work

Now that's math I can support!

Sand, Sea, and Sun!

FryDaddy and I are taking off for a few days.  Some friends very generously lent us their beach house as a graduation present for the newly-minted alumnus and we're heading out for a few days of watching the waves and worrying about absolutely nothing more strenuously than whether or not our chairs are above the high-tide line.

Should be good.

Once we're back, it's into the whirl with us as we get the Breaking Bad draft off to the publisher along with a couple of other projects - one of which has just GOT to involve the house!  Ever wake up and wonder how the place got so disorganized overnight?  Well, that's pretty much where we are just now.  Looks like Goodwill is going to benefit from a couple of massive closet-cleanings.

But that's for later.  The next few days are all about not worrying about classes and politics and writing and, and, and.  We all need a few of 'em.  And about four of them are coming our way.  Someone asked me if I'd checked the weather for the trip and my cheery reply was, "Nope.  We're going no matter what."  And it's true - no hurricanes are forming (for that, I must admit, I'd leave) and we're pretty good at making our own fun in the case of inclement weather.  (Wowr!!)

Now, where'd I put that sunscreen?

Somber Celebration

To begin with, woo-hoo!  FryDaddy's two years of jumping through a series of increasingly-difficult hoops (Fire!  Spin this plate!  Juggle these geese!) has come to a close and he's an official graduate of the university.  He was decked out in bling from various honor societies and looked quite academic, not to mention handsome and thoughtful.

We have a few months here at the Nest before he heads Up-and-Over the Mountain to graduate school.  It should prove to be an interesting summer - we have some vacation at the coast planned, I teach two summer courses, our first draft of the Breaking Bad project is due mid-June (Can we write together?  Hmmm - heck of a way to find out!  Click here for updates), and the biennial Whedon conference (Slayage 5 - for which papers[ahem] still need to be written) is mid-July.  Lots going on over the next two months.  (I'm hoping we spend the end of July hunkered down at home doing very little.)  It's busy, but I'm trying to look at the bright side.  We have some amazing opportunities that we said "yes" to and now it's time to pony up.

In far less celebratory news, my fine state of North Carolina voted "yes" to Amendment One this past week, which makes me both sad and resolved.  Oh, I know the tide of history is turning towards equality and dignity, but I was hopeful that we could nudge the tide a bit.  I'm a little amazed at how "activated" I've become.  It wasn't this one single issue; it goes back to the hack-and-slash job my state legislature did on the budget last year.  In the past, I've been a very quiet, politely political person.  I think those days may be over.  No one pays attention to you when you're quiet, so Those in Power think it's okay to ignore you.

Not any more.  This is my state, too.  And I'm not leaving.

Identify.
Organize.
Eliminate.

Two!

It's May First today, which is a day filled with portent and mystery.  The Russians parade artillery, the neo-Druids gather in oak groves, the French hand out lily of the valley to ladies and here at the Nest, we observe the second anniversary of the smartest day of our lives.  Yep, it's been two solid years since FryDaddy and I said our vows and declared our intentions in front of God and witnesses to travel this road together, no matter what the potholes may bring.

This year, we're combining anniversary celebrations with his graduation festivities in a couple of days.   It's a regular workday for me (sigh), although I have the prospect of a home-cooked dinner waiting for me at the end of a long, grading-filled day.  Well, not all anniversaries can fall on weekends, can they?

The traditional gift for the second anniversary is cotton and, while it's not about the gifts, handing me a bunch of Q-Tips at the end of a semester may not be among the best of ideas.  I took a more symbolic route with this one, but that's all you get to know about it.  (It's still a secret, and he reads this blog.)  You see, there's a lovely Southernism to denote being in a state of good fortune - on such a happy occasion, you're said to be in "high cotton."  This past year has been all about high cotton for us.  We've seen our professional careers continue to blossom to the point that we're in the midst of co-authoring a project together.  He's worked hard (and I mean hard) at school and is about two days away from donning a dark-blue robe and very flat hat and striding with confidence across a stage to receive his degree.  I haven't hit anyone with an office chair.  (Trust me, that should count as an accomplishment, although I've yet to find a place to put in on my CV.  Suggestions are welcomed.)  There has been tribulation and trial - it's life, after all - but work is good, friendships are rich, and home is cozy.  We've had the opportunity to travel and laugh and continue to build a life together.   

It's been a good year - and one filled with "high cotton" moments.

That's well worth celebrating, any day of the year.

Hair on Fire! Hair on Fire!

OK, my hair isn't actually on fire, but it feels about that way these days.  No big deal - it's the end of the semester for me, plus it's the end of the undergraduate journey for FryDaddy, plus I'm coming off two and a half big work projects, plus one huge writing project deadline is beginning to loom menacingly, plus, plus, plus.

It's at these times that it becomes very helpful to remember to breathe.

No kidding.

And to also realize that, as much as I want to be Super-Duper-Girl, my cape gets caught in phone booth doors when I try that gig.  You have to say no, even when you do it with regret.  I've had to bow out of several things I'd really have enjoying doing/going to/etc. but it's for the Greater Good.  I simply am no good to myself or anyone around me when I get so caught up in the whirl that I can only see the whirl.

So, while I'm going to try mightily to keep to my "post on the Nest once a week" schedule, it might turn out like this post - which is considerably outside those parameters - for a few weeks.

You'll forgive me, I'm sure.  In fact, I am willing to bet you've had your own "hair on fire" days or weeks.

Those of you in North Carolina, please don't forget to vote on May 8 - in fact, beat the rush!  Early voting has already begun.  If you're uncertain on the "Amendment One" issue, here's a link to a very thoughtful site put together by a friend of mine.  I have to admit, he's done a nice job of actually presenting both sides of the issue, something my own biases would have prevented me from doing.  Therefore, I will say nothing else - check out the site.

More later - I smell smoke.

Of Detaching & Decisions

FryDaddy and I have just returned from a couple of days away.  While this was partly a working trip (more on that later), it was also partly not.  I am pleased to report that both portions seem to have been successful.

Let me elaborate.

FryDaddy is about four weeks away from finishing his first round of higher learnin'.  He's thrown his weight into it and done extremely well.  We've made jokes about the commuter marriage (especially the "we-got-married-and-now-he-lives-with-the-in-laws" part) and we've done well overall with that.  So we're headed into Round 2.  A bachelor's degree carries nearly no cachet these days and going further is required if you want to work on the other side of the desk.  When the dust settled, it looked as if University A was going to be his landing place and we were both happy with that decision.

Then along came University X with a letter of acceptance and a full tuition scholarship.  As monkey wrenches go, it was a very nice one.  We looked over University X's Website and got as far as we could go virtually, then set up a campus tour and an information interview with the head of the graduate program in history.  We decided to make it half vacation, so we booked a room in a nice hotel and a few days ago, up and over the mountain we went.

The weather was not conducive to forming a favorable impression.  Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening.  Rain sluiced down so hard that I half-expected to see some fellow gathering animals by pairs.  But we made it to the Carnegie Hotel and everything got a little bit better.  The hotel was built by some railroad baron back in the 1890s and renovated in 2000 and seriously - it's a showstopper.  Twelve foot ceilings, huge, double-sink bathroom with actual honeycomb tile, etc., etc.  We also found out they have a special University X rate which makes it just a few bucks more than the cookie-cutter Comfort Inn, so there's that to keep in mind for later visits.  They train their staff to provide a nearly ridiculous level of service and we loved every minute of it!  (We even had cookies and milk delivered to the room our first night there.  Real milk, not the skim stuff I usually drink.)  Due to the storm, we ate dinner at the hotel restaurant and I wasn't sure about that.  Hotel restaurants are often overpriced and under-impressive, but this one was worth the considerable coin we decided to spend.  The food was magnificent and we both caught ourselves talking about "flavor profiles," something our at-home dinners don't usually inspire.  Again, impeccable service.  (The server-in-training was the one who delivered our nightly cookies and milk, too.)

Our tour of University X the next morning (the storm had passed, thank goodness) was impressive.  Everyone - up to and including the woman who directed us to the stairs - was friendly, wanted to help and to ensure that we got what we needed.  The campus was impressive in terms of facilities and layout (and really, aside from the face of a loved one, is anything much more lovely than a Southern campus in spring?).  And whatever University X is paying their archivist, he deserves a raise.  University X has a very impressive archive of all things Appalachian (oral history, music, diaries, family histories, etc.) and the archivist knows exactly where the contents are of everything.  Plus - he's funny.  (He claimed he grew up in a part of the state that was so far back in the woods that "even the Episcopalians handled snakes."  Thank you.  Tip your waitress.)  The information interview may have sealed the deal - University X places nearly all students who want to go on to a Ph.D program in one - with funding, thank you very much - and they have faculty members who focus on several areas of great interest to FryDaddy that University A lacks.  He'll do a thesis and have a tough committee to guarantee his writing reaches its full potential and (thank you!) there's money for conferences.

The decision isn't quite made yet, but University X is looking pretty darned good.

We had decided to extend our stay instead of rushing back down the mountain after the campus fact-finding was done and had decided to splurge, so we headed to the spa for our appointments.  OK, I see the appeal.  And that's all I'll say on that matter, aside from yay, spa!  Dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant (and a side trip to an auto parts store - even nice folks there) then back to the hotel for a restful night before a leisurely trip back home today.

We're home now, better connected than we have been for the last few weeks.  We had said "yes" to too many other people and "I'll get to you in a minute" to each other too often lately.  A dent in the bank balance is a small price to pay for correcting that imbalance.

And you know what?  Not a single student seems to have missed me all that much.

Lesson learned.

Broken Shoelaces

You know, some days things just don't break your way.  It's nothing personal; happens to everybody.  This happened to me last week, almost immediately after posting my first day of spring "lalalalala, trip through the flowers" remarks.  There's nothing like realizing that, as a fully-grown adult, you've forgotten how to read the gas gauge to cause you to tuck into a big ol' slice of humble pie.  And I'd really run out of gas - if "F" stands for "full" and "E" stands for "empty," the needle of my tank was so far over on the left that it should have read "D" (for "duhhh").  Dorothy Parker was right - it's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes.  Or, as I've put it, give me a legitimate crisis and I'm fine, it's the broken shoelace that'll send me screaming into the night.

So - silver linings.  First, I was safely at home, not on the side of a darkened, shoulder-less road.  A friend kindly gave me a lift to work.  Another friend dropped off a gallon of gas at my house.  A third friend gave me a lift home and even followed me to the gas station to make sure I got there - just in case.  And no one I talked to made me feel like a colossal moron because I'd run out of gas.

Lessons learned?  Friends are good.  It's okay to ask for help.  And fill up the tank when it hits the half-way mark.  Nothing earth-shattering, but sometimes we need to be reminded of the small stuff - after all, it's mostly what life is made up of.