For Kizz…

Now, you all know how I cook. I don’t do a lot of measuring. I use what’s in my pantry and freezer and dump it in my crockpot. You can use your basic chili recipe, the spices you like to taste.

I cut up two big honkin sweet potatos in cubes. I didn’t peal them first.

I dumped a can of crushed tomatos and a can of diced. I added some fresh tomatos that I’d put in the freezer last summer.

Chopped up four cloves of garlic, and one jalapeno pepper seeds and all.

One can of black beans drained and a can of chili beans not drained

One onion chopped

One yellow bell pepper course chopped

I added (because I needed to use it before it went bad) a lb of lean ground turkey

Salt, pepper, cumin, chili powder, cayenne, crushed red pepper

and a cup or two of water

I dumped the turkey and tomatos in frozen solid, added the canned stuff and veg and spices and turned on the crockpot and left.

Stupidgood.

After class yesterday, I gave myself the day off from homework.

I ran a few errands, I went and worked out, and I came home and nested.

I made sweet potato/black bean/turkey chili.  It was a crockpot thing. I just dumped stuff out of the freezer, chopped up the veg and done.

I made brown buttered chocolate chip cookies with BACON!

They were labor intensive. I bought new cookie sheets. About one batch came out perfect and I cooked them for HALF the time the recipe said. Other pans came out a little too toasty. I think next time I make them…more bacon. At the end of the day, it’s a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

I bought a new Yankee Candle while at the store. Autumn Wreath.

Lord, but I love a house that has the smells of a home…simmering soup, cookies, candles.

I took a little time to re-figure my grade in YA Lit. I’m sitting on a high B right now. Hopefully the midterm will have brought that up. Way up. The test was good. The teacher is a little batty so I don’t know how she’ll grade the long answer/essay portions. It took me a little over 2 hours to take it. I feel confidant.

Today is a new hair day.

I’ve had the same high lift blonde for several SEVERAL years. I don’t change my hair that often as far as the color goes. Today, that changes. I’m going darker. Still blonde pieces, but my overall base color will be a dark blonde/light brown…I’ll make sure to post pictures after.

Once that’s finished I’m heading up to school and logging in some library time. The bibliography is due Monday. The library is closed Friday for fall break, and that’s fine because that’s Fall Fest and Taryn & Co are coming in for that. Saturday is a stupid busy day at work. so, it’s today, maybe tomorrow night and Sunday for the info I have to get FROM the library. It’ll be fine. (crossing fingers)

Time for one more cuppa. Have a great day, won’t you? It’s humpday, afterall.

This morning is my last class of the week.

The weather has changed, a cold front has blown through and the highs are in the 60’s.

Sweatshirts! Boots! (I know. I know NYC girls are rolling eyes. Sorry…but kind of not sorry!)

A light freeze is coming mid week. I went out to the garden that I had pretty much abandoned during the 115 degree summer, and I’ll be damned if it’s not flourishing. There’s tomato blooms out there that, if I cover it with a sheet at night, just might explode into tomatos for a final harvest! So that’s something.

I’m making a B in my Young Adult Fiction class. I have the midterm, a project and a grad paper along with 8 more weeks of daily grades, to bring it up to an A.

I’m making this for supper tonight. Sweet Potato Chili. So good. I can’t wait. Jalapeno cornbread to go with it.

As I was looking at the recipe…I started perusing the entire blog. The author has had her own struggle with weight.

Mine is at a place right now…my body is out of control. I can feel it. I can’t wait until my doctor’s appointment in a few weeks. There’s something else going on here that is more than emotional eating. . . but that’s the majority of it and the emotions and hormones and crazy voices. . . there’s got to be an endgame.  These posts resonated with me, go read. 

Ok, I’ve got a list of things today after class and time at the library.

Peaceout, ya’ll.

 

 

 

 

Midterm exam today.

I feel good. I feel ready.

I left the house once this weekend, all other moments were in the house, cleaning, studying, watching West Wing, napping, Studying, snacking, reading, STUDYING.

Today. Test.

No class tonight. Major Author assignment due a week from today.

Class tomorrow. Paper thesis due.

Fall Break.

Fall FEST! Yes! It’s time for Fall Fest again. Friday night~my sis and the boys are coming. The usual suspects will show up perhaps.

I know I’m completely slammed at work on Saturday so it won’t be a long night for me.

Keeping the balls in the air, juggling…juggling…trying to be what I need to be for everyone…learning to say yes…learning to say no…compartmentalizing…risking.

A reminder why I’m doing this

40.

It’s a thing. I don’t care where you are in your life, how you feel about yourself, or the  level of your self esteem. Turning 40 is…a thing.

Get it. Get your head wrapped around it. Get on with living.

Today starts the few days a year when my best friend and I share the same age.

She’s being properly launched into the new decade down in New Orleans, surrounded by the man that she loves and the friends that complete their foursome. She’s soaking up the sights and the sounds, being approached on the street for some girl lovin’ and eating up the flavors she’s dreamed about for years.

Everyone needs a launching like this.

She deserves it.

We’ve been through a lot, she and I. We’ve seen the boys come and the boys go. We’ve seen births and deaths and marriage and divorce. Through Julia Roberts movies and inside jokes…we’ve kept time.

There are people in your life that sustain you. Whether you talk every day or every six months. They are the connection, the thing that keeps you from forgetting who you were when you were becoming who you are.

We are a witness to life.

For the last 26 years, knowingly…unknowingly…a witness. A backup. A force.

I cannot possible imagine what the next 26 will hold.

Happy Birthday my friend.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Today I had a breakthrough. It came in the middle of a breakdown. But I think it counts.

Quite a bit of my work consists of researching.

The advent of technology changed the way research is done, especially since I last did any in 1997.

So on my “homework days” I sit and I read. I make notes. I peruse databases online. I write a bit. Mostly I read and I peruse databases and read other works that have been published.

Reading.

Surfing the net.

My brain does not aknowledge this to be Real Work. True Work. Productive Work.

That’s when the panic starts up and it get’s really crowded with the voices chanting and the crazy begins to swirl at my feet. Because those voices don’t think I’m doing anything real or valid. And I should BE doing something both real AND valid, and progressing and checking things off the list.

I recognized the panic signs. They’ve been coming on pretty frequently these last few weeks. I took a half of a xanax. Yes. It was the middle of the day. But I did it. Just a half.

I came back and put in an episode of West Wing and just sat on the couch doing some deep breathing.

Once I got it together, I took another look at the thesis I was trying to write, threw it all away, chose another author and wrote the thesis in two minutes. I changed the author and set the tone and now, now that I have that I know where I’m going. I then perused more databases, took some time to really look at how to use the search engines on these things and BAM. There. There in the prologue of the book A Burnt Out Case by Graham Greene, were the words spoken about him upon his death.

I’ll have to go back and trace my research path, but that assignment is essentially finished.

I’ve decided to designate specific time to work on specific classes and papers. I think that will help me not feel quite as overwhelmed.

Also…I vacuumed my carpets. I took out the trash and recycle. I called a doctor and finally got an appointment with a lady parts doctor. (I’ve got a list of things to speak to her about one of which is the panic attacks.)

I actually was productive today. Just a few steps forward. Just a car length ahead.

The calm has remained.

Audra bought me a card, many moons ago, that suggested it not be inappropriate for adults to participate in scream therapy.

After this week. I concur.

If you cracked open my head there would be the entire army from Braveheart rallying and screaming and painted all halfway blue and wielding swords.

It’d be nice if they were on MY side.

Bright spots of the week:

Family dinner celebrating my girl’s 40th birthday that is Saturday. It’s always nice to gather around a table and share jokes and eat and ohh and ahh and laugh.

I got a break through from my professor yesterday on the major author bibliography assignment. I’m going to get a goodly amount of research down on paper today. That’s a relief.

I have no idea how to research my Atlick Problem. Here it is:

“what public figures gave statements to the English Press on the Occasion of the death of Graham Greene in 1991.”

I’ve cruised several databases. Searched the London Times. I know it’s an easy thing…or not. I just have a block as to how and were to even begin.

Perhaps research isn’t my strong suit after all.

I’ll be at the library Friday night, Saturday, Sunday as well I’m sure. I’ve also got four sheets of about 30 objective questions to finish for my mid term exam in YA Lit. Also I have got to finish the Anne Frank diary. I have a mental block on this book. I’m halfway through it, and I’ll review the objectives…but I need an A on this test and I’m pretty convinced my professor grades purely based on her body temperature that day.

I lay all of this out here not to whine and moan. But to kind of get my brain wrapped around my to do list. And to show proof that when I say I am flooded and cannot be social and just up and go…I MEAN IT.

 

So. Here we are at Wednesday. And that’s pretty much all I’ve got. I hope you’re good and happy and rockin the week along.

 

 

Well yesterday was a bitch. I got my review of teaching back and did NOT get the full 25 points. She claimed I/we–and yeah…it was supposed to be a joint project but I was gone from class for Joe’s fathers funeral so had to rely on her emailing me first…and she did sometime Thursday night and finally sent me what she had on Sunday at 9pm…so F that…anyways the professor said it didn’t look like we worked together so she took off for that. She also said we didn’t bring any history of the book into the class. I argued that the history element was brought in with the documentary and oh yes, remember how I also gave historical and background information when I INTERVIEWED THE DIRECTOR as well as printed off information and made handouts for the class???

She gave me an extra point. And did say that at the end of it all, if the other point is a make it or break it for me that she would give it to me.

Disappointing.

On to the next class where I got my research problem paper back from last week. It was one that just was hard. But apparently I did the research and writing quite well. Citing websites is where I completely threw away my grade. Daily grade of C+ with margin notes “review how to do a works cited page”

Citing databases and material found online is just awkward. Nothing I ever had to deal with in 1997 which was the last time I cited anything official other than my opinion. No excuse. I failed. Time to go back to the handbook and get on the MLA website and learn it.

I felt the anxiety in my chest during class. Anxiety about money. About my clients. About keeping my head above water. I could feel my chest tightening and my heart pounding and tears welling up in the back of my eyes, all the while I’m furiously taking notes on “A Brief History of Literary Criticism.” I did some deep breathing and pulled my focus and compartmentalized like a fiend and got through class. Our major authors assignment came last night, a 2 part bibliography, the last part annotated. I chose Faulkner. Because I’m drawn to Southern writers. I hope I didn’t shoot myself in the foot…but that’s another blog post. Class was over. I made it. That C+ though, was my final straw. Walking to my car in the dark, tears running a marathon down my cheeks…I looked up and saw the moon.

And immediately flipped it off.

Same song. Full moon.

It’s a new morning.

I have coffee. I have an appointment with my advisor for November 2nd to get my plan of study on record. I’m about to head out to class with homework complete and readings finished. I’ve packed the backpack with everything to work on after class…

It’s a brand new day.

 

 

Sidebar: Yet one more reason I love the social networking…and my life. This morning after class, as I’m setting up in the library, forwarding my mail here, making arrangements for the cats while I live here, my friend from high school Stewart Brower sent me an email. He’s a library genius. Tulsa area I believe but would have to stalk his FB to be sure. His mother was our librarian at El Reno High School, and a friend of my mothers. Lot’s of connections. He sent me an email with sites to check for help on Works Cited. He sent me a name of a friend who is a reference librarian here. On my campus. He sent a lifeline. And even though I KNOW I can figure out the whole MLA stuff, and that I will do much better on this assignment…man. It’s so nice to know that there are people watching…at the ready to help and lift up. *sniff. tears. damned full moon.*

Angles watching over me. Every step I take.

So I almost lost my temper yesterday in class.

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I really REALLY unleashed my temper.

It’s been on lockdown for years.

It’s the class with That Girl. The one that’s been in school all of her life. That knows more than everyone in the class as well as the professor teaching the class. She hogs discussion time, is abrasive and at times downright offensive.

She is the girl that eschews all things conventional. Uber Femminist. Rails against the institution of marriage. Has said many times how she does not want children. . . and there is absolutely nothing wrong with making these choices in life…but when you pronounce them to the class with an obvious tone of disdain to anyone who makes different choices…it’s offensive. She can be described as the stereotypical femminist who is single, plain in appearance, slightly overweight, and collects both degrees and cats. (there’s irony in the stereotype, eh?)

But she is educated. She is really really educated. She is in the minority…

That knows better.

We’ve been looking at poetry this week. Gwendolyn Brooks for one. (I do love me some Gwendolyn Brooks poetry.) Other works by other women authors. Jewish authors. African-American authors. Lesbian authors. Married, mothered authors. It’s delightful.

The poem More of a Corpse than a Woman by Muriel Rukeyser was up for discussion yesterday.

“…all of them alike, expensive girls, the leaden friends, one used to play piano, one of them once wrote a sonnet, one even seemed awakened enough to photograph wheatfields–the dull girls with the educated minds and technical passions–pure love was their employment, they tried it for enjoyment.”

Ok.

She is certainly referencing a specific stereotype. We all know women that fit this description. And certainly, in 1938 when this piece was written, it was the majority, not minority of women who followed this path in their lives. The educated female writer was in the minority.

Now. Our professor makes this point. That we all know this type of woman.

That Girl, then commandeers the class. Tells her story of how she only looked at all girls schools when she was looking. That she was a legacy in the Pi Phi house at OU and just wanted NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT LIFE.

This turned into a vocal lynching of all things sorority/fraternity and while we’re at it let’s throw in the Junior League too.

“those girls”

“vapid. stupid. empty.”

“I cant imagine wanting that life”

“ugh. and when they grow up…the jr league..just as bad…”

I was gritting my teeth, clenching my fists, holding my breath.

THIS is what we’ve come to? It was nothing more than a grown up game of  dodgeball by a  sanctimonious group of people that for some reason or another chose a different path than that of a sorority, or any charitable women’s organization.

It was offensive.

My sisters, my friends, my people have a long history with sororities. My PseudoSis1 is in the Junior League. I know what work and good comes out of groups like this.

Are there snotty white girls with their pearls and pointy shoes and their plastic surgery scars tucked neatly behind their I-Know-My-Husband-Is-Cheating-smiles?

You bet.

Do you think they are exclusive only to the Kappa Delta house or the Junior League? Have you not seen them at church? Sitting in the library? Teaching grad school? Working at the bank?

Pull your head out sweetheart.

I don’t remember much of the remainder of the class.

I was equal parts pissed and heartbroken.

My professor was beating the drum just as loudly as That Girl, and everyone else on the bandwagon.

Aren’t we…ESPECIALLY those of us in this class who are studying themes like “women finding a voice, and women writing and fighting social issues”. . . aren’t we supposed to lift each other up? Aren’t we supposed to look at where we’ve come and sound the trumpet for the fact that we GET A CHOICE in our path? Shouldn’t WE be the ones to set fire to the stereotypes and dance crazy on the graves of our suppressors?

 

• We COULDN’T VOTE UNTIL 1920! (the 19th Ammendment)
• We didn’t have the right to chose what happened to our own bodies until 1973! (Roe v. Wade)
• In 2006, nearly 13 million children under 18 years of age lived in households with incomes below the poverty threshold ($20,614 for a family of 4 in 2006); (www.hrsa.gov)
• Women make 75.5 cents for every dollar a man makes. (http://usgovinfo.about.com)

 

Don’t we have more important things on our plate?

 

I am not a sorority girl.

I didn’t ever have that option.

I am not a member of the Junior League.

I am a member of the League of Amazing and Indefinable Woman***

And like the women before me, I stumble. I get back up.

I want the best for all of us.

I want to know and to do…better.

And the next time That Girl starts talking trash on a group of people that I love…well…I want to be able to stand my ground and curb the instinct to pull out her voice box with my manicured nails. . .

but I’ll be sure to wear my pearls on that day…just in case.

***Membership Open To All!

“My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery—always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What’s this passion for?”-Virginia Woolf

I found this gem while researching possible topics for my Women in Literature paper.  Turns out Virginia Woolf had the crazy voices too. And the days of great productivity with the days of complete exhaustion.

She called herself “mad”

I wonder what she’d call me.