tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60753112011-12-12T23:57:49.311-05:00change the world.YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.comBlogger2671100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138855993235880702006-02-01T22:45:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.887-04:00

Dar Williams has a very sad, but beautifully poetical song called "February." (It's the cello that gives the lyrics their full expression, which is why I wish I could link to more than just a snippet of a sound file.)I recognize the forlorn February described in Dar's song. But I like February. I prefer it to January. This year, I'm especially fond of February, because it's the month in which I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138642940104391822006-01-30T12:32:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.796-04:00

A moment of silence, please, for my keyboard's letter "C," which finally disappeared yesterday afternoon.Also in danger of extinction: S, D, V, B, N, and M. (The "D" is in particular peril, having dwindled down to a desperate dot.) Is anyone else looking at blank keys on their laptops? I've only had this machine since May, so I'm wondering if I should have sprung for one of those keyboard "skins

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138573585113004072006-01-29T17:07:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.688-04:00

John Lithgow is probably a really nice guy. He's certainly talented, and he was pretty funny in Third Rock from the Sun. But John Lithgow has also played a lot of scary, creepy villains (Raising Cain, anyone?) and, for this reason, should never have been allowed to narrate a childbirth video.See what I mean?This PBS video is seven minutes long. But you only have to watch the first two minutes to

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138558656724004492006-01-29T13:00:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.598-04:00

... when you feel suddenly mute before your keyboard? It's like approaching a piano with a melody in mind and then having to acknowledge that these fingers can't get it to play.It's like my dreams last night, in which I was working on an unlikely gamble. In which I was tacking together screen doors and replacing the paper towels in a building destined to sink into the mud. The strange subtext of

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138373369501444332006-01-27T09:32:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.502-04:00

... but, according to the midwife, I'm fifty percent effaced. "Do you feel as if you have a baseball sitting on your bladder?" she wanted to know. Actually, yes. Yes, I do.Cervix is only about a centimeter, though. And I completely forgot to ask anything about the baby's station in the uterus. Guess I was too shocked by the midwife's shock at how very low he is. "I'm touching his head," she

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1138222582472006822006-01-25T15:27:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.408-04:00

Yesterday was one of those rare and fortunate days when I felt on top of everything. Had an excellent morning at my new job, if I do say so myself. Had a very productive and comfortable chat with my new manuscript editor in the afternoon. And, by evening, I secured a fab commentator for a conference panel proposal that was really coming down to the wire.Today is yesterday's antipode. I'm in a

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1137952937349320012006-01-22T12:56:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.319-04:00

When Adam and I walk around the neighborhood, strangers smile and nod meaningfully toward the front of my winter coat. Either they've figured out that I'm pregnant, or they are struck by my resemblance to President Taft.This post should be called "reset button," as I've been working all weekend to revive the productivity habits initiated a few weeks ago. This time, I'm experimenting with a new

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1137689288764921062006-01-19T11:06:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.232-04:00

Sleep is more and more elusive these days. Between the constant bathroom trips and the lovely sensation that my stomach is lodged in my throat, I'm waking up three or four times a night. I've always had vivid dreams, but now the volume on those dreams is turned up extra high. I swear I can hear the mental chatter rev up again each time I wriggle back into the pregnancy pillow. It's not exactly

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1137264010738408382006-01-14T13:15:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.149-04:00

Oh dear. I think I just killed a spider with my face.Am back at work today, where this time I c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y moved several more piles of library books from the car to my office. The research center is locked tight, so I had to swipe my i.d. card to enter the building each time I entered. The card reader box rejected my i.d. once, squawking and blinking its red light. So I swiped the i.d. more

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1137170267914132142006-01-13T11:05:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:34.066-04:00

Today I woke up pleased and amused that it was Friday the 13th. Adam was born on a Friday the 13th. In fact, he turned 13 on a Friday the 13th, so we tend to be fond of the day. (I know. Kind of stupid. But what's life without such silly little pleasures?)The day is unseasonably warm and bright. I was feeling motivated to get back to my intensive writing schedule.And then, on my way to my office,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1137067334625713282006-01-12T06:27:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.957-04:00

Thanks for all the good wishes. You guys make me so happy. Let me say again how much I appreciated the insights and advice in response to my earlier angsting about the job interview. That encouragement made me so, so much more confident than I would have been otherwise. So... I'm really in your debt.Today's my first day on the job. My predecessor is going to show me the proverbial ropes. And then

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1136928174914926702006-01-10T16:00:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.878-04:00

Hired! My interviewer just called to make the offer. If our conversation just now was any indication, she is going to be a darling person for/with whom to work. I am so pleased. I'm also kind of proud — of me and of the university that hired me — for having landed this gig while so obviously preggers.My boss-to-be was more than accommodating re: my necessary maternity leave. She also indicated

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1136859121161898692006-01-09T20:58:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.801-04:00

The interview went very well, I think. Contrary to her reputation, the interviewer was not "prickly" at all. In fact, I quite liked her and found it very easy to talk with her.At the end of the interview, I went ahead and brought up the pregnancy. This caused my interviewer to smile nervously. "I did notice that," she said. "But you know there are laws against me saying anything." I said that I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1136490629298987972006-01-05T14:08:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.730-04:00

The career counselors at my husband's university spent all fall pushing me toward jobs in insurance. This had me baffled. And also worried. Were they clearer than I about my prospects as an academic?Well, now these same career counselors have alerted me to an as-yet unadvertised, part-time, arts-and-humanities-based writing job. And, shock of shocks, it happens to be at a nearby university that I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1136215813244972152006-01-02T10:16:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.657-04:00

At bedtime, I am literally embedded in my puffy, horseshoe-shaped pregnancy pillow. So Adam and I sleep with a wall of stuffing between us. After the alarm goes off, I sometimes drag the pregnancy pillow out of bed and then slip back under the covers for a few minutes of cuddling with A. Other times, A. gallantly throws an arm over the pillow wall to initiate a sort of long-distance hug. If I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1136052102616245732005-12-31T12:23:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.582-04:00

One of the best things about having a broad mix of friends is that, through them, I can vicariously experience lifestyles, choices, and obsessions that I otherwise would never know. And if that's true in real life, it's even truer in the blogopshere. For instance, I can thank Lisa Whiteman for my imaginary life among artsy, insightful, and well-traveled Brooklynites.Plenty of other people are

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135827890306036612005-12-28T22:15:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.510-04:00

Five and a half hours. That's what I logged today between 8:20 and 3:15.The bad news: That's 90 minutes short of my goal. The good news: I can probably log those minutes tonight.More good news: I slept for only NINE minutes today!The bad news: I didn't write at all. Instead, I edited a contribution for a conference panel I'm putting together and talked to its author on the phone. For the

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135745873881801852005-12-27T23:43:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.436-04:00

This was Day 1 of the industrious and single-minded Cello.It went okay. And I'm happier tonight.I didn't get to the office by 8. I got there by 9. And a detailed log of my activities showed that I accomplished six, not eight, solid hours of work. I stayed in the office until 7, because I also fell asleep on my yoga mat for an hour and a half.On the bright side, I did get some major traction on my

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135655283881784402005-12-26T21:55:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.355-04:00

In real life, I would never refer to myself in the third person. On this blog, I sometimes do. And now I can feel a second-person address coming on. As in, "YelloCello, when are you going to kick your own butt? You talk about making your writing a priority, but you continue to let a million little things interfere. You agonize about what having a baby is going to do to your already tenuous

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135528166751239032005-12-25T10:40:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.280-04:00

Adam and I made the radical decision not to travel this holiday, on account of:- general exhaustion, of both our bodies and our bank account;- 2 book manuscripts, due about 5 minutes before the baby gets here;- that much-anticipated baby, whom family members are coming to see in February. So we spent Christmas Eve with a pair of relative strangers from our childbirth class. They're new to town

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135397189424782072005-12-23T22:37:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.205-04:00

Our attempts at socializing tonight failed. We drove to a party, only to find the host's driveway suspiciously empty. After a couple of drive-bys, we decided that we must have the wrong date. Either that, or everybody at the party had carpooled in just one vehicle. And everybody was ducking to avoid being seen through the curtain-less windows.So we went to the grocery store. And thank goodness,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135186564351741852005-12-21T11:24:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.131-04:00

Sometimes my body is way ahead of my brain.Take one small example: One afternoon, I had on NPR's music station, which had that day broken format, replacing classical music with selections from classic musicals.Immersed in what I was doing, I didn't pay much attention to the radio. At least not until I felt seized with anxiety, and abruptly started to sweat. My brain noted this unpleasant

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135124499723304842005-12-20T18:52:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:33.056-04:00

"I am very sorry to have to tell you that the Search Committee has decided to proceed no further with your application. Thank you for applying. We wish you well in all your endeavors."It wasn't even the post-doc for which I'd had the most hope. I'm grateful to get the rejection sooner than later. And, as emailed rejections go, this one could have been a lot worse.But then comes the call from A.,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135103344948108432005-12-20T13:27:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.981-04:00

Love Kitty has never been one for cuddling. Until recently, that is. Adam has long claimed that Love loves armpit sweat. I tried not to think about this theory, or the fact of its development in Adam’s theory-boy grad school years, when he showered a lot less frequently than he does now.I also try not to think about what it means that Love Kitty is lately drawn to me. Whenever I sit down with a

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1135009107464459612005-12-19T10:46:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.906-04:00

30 weeks pregnant. My uterus now pushes up hard on my rib cage. In response to recent belly photos, my mother and mother-in-law each promptly sent me a poncho to cover my girth. I am a menace in the tiny aisles of our town's co-op grocery store.A colleague lent me her enormous, horseshoe-shaped "body pillow." Which should be called a "half body" pillow for its resemblance to a pair of giant,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1134917860865654722005-12-18T09:47:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.830-04:00

So is it weird to admit that…The remnants of my favorite ginseng green tea with honey smell vaguely like cat urine? Or that onions on pizza smell to me like sweaty feet?Cilantro tastes like soap, by the way.But a laundromat’s sweet exhaust is alluring to me.Meanwhile...Our cats often give me a look that conjures my late grandfather Harold. Less frequently, one of the cats also channels my late

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1134679965502181652005-12-15T15:44:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.754-04:00

Paradox: When I blog more, I also write more in other parts of my life. (Including academic writing.)Christmas struggles have mostly resolved themselves. Caught Adam humming Christmas carols ("O Holy Night" of all things), and said.... not... a... word. Our Christmas tree remains only partially decorated and we have yet to find a holiday music compromise. So, for now, we listen to the Cuban jazz

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1133718872824127072005-12-04T12:27:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.670-04:00

"You're not going to get me to tingle."That bizarre sentence fell from Adam's lips last night in the midst of a quarrel over Christmas. Blame intelligent design. At Adam's recommendation, I was reading Margaret Talbot's excellent New Yorker article on the trial to determine whether intellligent design will be taught in Dover, Pennsylvania. I expressed my displeasure for the tactics of the Thomas

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1133066970294118102005-11-26T22:31:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.581-04:00

One of my favorite New Yorker cartoons shows a man seated at his typewriter, cheerfully greeting the Grim Reaper. "Thank goodness, you're here!" the man exclaims. "I can't accomplish anything without a deadline."I have a deadline: December 1. That's the day I'm bound to submit an article for a forthcoming book.I have a surplus: The article happens to be on a subject that I began researching over

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1132842613139416862005-11-24T09:14:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.504-04:00

Oh bloggy world, you're like a very good dream. In this season of deadlines, it took me a while to discover very kind emails from Psycho Kitty and Being Shielded on how to fix my blogroll. Warm thanks to them both!The physical world is a little dream-like today as well: a day off from work, a respite from holiday travel, and—best of all—the season's first snow.Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1131860648594566462005-11-13T00:39:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.425-04:00

Too tired and deadline-frazzled to write much these days. (And my blog is still broken, which is depressing.)Just one question: Would it be wrong to take a prenatal vitamin that has been licked by a cat? I had the pill sitting next to my computer, and G. decided to have a taste.He didn't like it anymore than I do.I know I should throw the darn thing out. I only hesitate because they're so

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1131408843638362872005-11-07T19:12:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.346-04:00

I was fiddling around with my template and somehow managed to lose all my blog buddy links, which are normally provided via Blogrolling. The links are still visible in my Blogrolling account, but I can't figure out how to get them to re-appear. Any tips on restoring the blogroll from people far more tech-savvy than I?

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1130682849326439352005-10-30T09:32:00.000-05:002006-10-27T02:16:32.274-04:00

I can’t wait for the kid to get here. I hope the kid doesn’t get here too soon.I miss my regular clothes. I miss great sex. I miss being able to dance in the kitchen without feeling like a cow.I forget what it’s like to have a waistline. I saw a picture of myself from June and my skinny body looked strange.How can I be this far along and still have all that much farther to go?Those baby kicks

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1130609862122269602005-10-29T14:07:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:32.200-04:00

Check out George Saunders' short story, "In Persuasion Nation," which appears in this month's Harpers. Of all the hallucinogenic social critiques the prolific Saunders has published lately, this is my favorite.The exchange between the orange and the Slap-of-Wack bar is especially well done.–"I have vitamin C," says the orange.–"So do I," say the Slap-of-Wack bar.–"I have natural fiber," says the

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1130253521873806512005-10-25T10:51:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:32.124-04:00

Rosa Parks seems to have lived a long and beautiful life. I'm pleased that she is getting so much praise on the news today. I'm also reminded of Sarah Vowell's comedic essay on public figures who have inappropriately compared themselves to Rosa Parks. (The essay appears in Vowell's The Partly Cloudy Patriot.)I didn't cry over Rosa Parks' passing. But I did start sobbing a minute ago upon

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1129490627073455982005-10-16T14:25:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:32.050-04:00

We're settled now, in our cozy new house. It's a modest little rental, but it feels quite luxurious compared to the oddball place we lived (not unhappily) this summer. We like old places. We've always lived in old places. So we're kind of thrown off by a house with regular right angles and floors that don't slope. We marvel at the uniformity of the windows, and the airtight-ness of the doors.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1128526963992805742005-10-05T11:41:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:31.976-04:00

The baby seemed to grow overnight. Woke up to bigger stomach. Even Adam noticed. We tried to imagine the cats' response to the the concept of baby.G.: (scurrying away, belly low to the ground) NO baby, thank you!LoveKitty: Maoooooooo! Mahaaaaao! (LoveKitty doesn't speak English like the other two.)GeezerCat: Baby good to eat? Baby come in can? Baby come in savory sauce?

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1128429533808537582005-10-04T08:21:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:31.901-04:00

I woke up cranky, having hit the snooze bar a half dozen times. I am struggling to finish the project description for another post-doc application, which is not unusual, because these things always take me a hundred times longer than they should. But this new project is also worrying me, because of a dramatic leap it makes from part one to part two. Was I crazy when I suggested that leap in the

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1128344520943296282005-10-03T08:56:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:16:31.826-04:00

Friday night: Thai dinner out with Adam. Our "date night" spent finding a washer/dryer for the big move.Saturday night: The Constant Gardener.Sunday morning: Hike. Climbed a mountain in a local state park. Bought some pumpkins at a roadside stand.Sunday evening: Felt a little hammer-tap in my belly. Grabbed Adam's hand just in time and he was able to feel the baby kick a second time. Spooned to

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1128297530866395732005-10-02T19:57:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.622-04:00

Rest in peace, August Wilson.Remember: "They ain't studying you."

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1128091001171243012005-09-30T10:14:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.541-04:00

I had a scary dream the other night in which we were moving to our new place. But the new place was a sort of post-apocalyptic version of my grandparents' old house, which stood on the banks of a stony creek. In the dream, the creek roared over its banks, turning the land to swamp. I was not too worried — such flooding had happened before — until I started getting pelted with frogs. The frogs

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1127842606420886432005-09-27T13:27:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.464-04:00

... that I really hate what pregnancy is doing to my body. I never had a perfect body, but it was a body that I'd learned how to dress and keep fit and with which I'd made peace. This new and nauseated body is awful. Swollen. Rearranged. Unrecognizable to me.I can't help thinking that I now have a belly like my father's. I can't help marveling at women who claim they looove being pregnant. Or at

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1127735122006468412005-09-26T07:39:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.391-04:00

As seen at Nels and What Now:Rules:1. Go into your archive. 2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).4. Post that sentence in your blog along with these instructions.Here it is: "From the other room, Adam is skeptical." Yep.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1127576646052094672005-09-24T11:16:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.312-04:00

We have to move again this month. My first-trimester nausea has given way to second-trimester puking. And I'm pushing my book manuscript along like an ant behind an 18-wheeler.So, yes, my normally active dream life has exploded into something far more unpredictable and exhausting. I don't so much have REM cycles as I have whole REM nights. (That's why the yoga mat I keep in my office now sees

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1127265692735834892005-09-20T21:12:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.234-04:00

I finally turned in an article that took me all summer to write. I surely must be the slowest writer on earth. But I was pleased with how the piece came out. Most of all, though, I'm pleased that it's finally off my desk. I must remember this: how delicious it feels to be finished with writing. I also want to remember to blog on writing and candy corn, but that's a topic for later in the week.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1127164554989388082005-09-19T16:38:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.160-04:00

Happy ending first: After going missing for three days and three nights, Love rematerialized at 6:30 this morning. We spent a sad weekend tramping through the forest and surrounding fields looking for his remains. We sat in silent grief at the dining room table, unable to stop listening for his cries. This morning, I'd gone back to bed at 6:15, haunted by a neighbor's confident assurance that

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1126926388503786452005-09-16T22:53:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.086-04:00

Our cat went out this morning and never came home again. We fear the worst and, as evidence of the worst accrues, can't stop crying.Oh Philo. Oh beautiful life.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1126667658622700152005-09-13T23:08:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:49.012-04:00

What Now gave me five questions to answer, and I've been quite pokey in getting around to them, even though (or because?) they're good ones.Here's the list:1) What kind of old woman do you think you’ll be? Or would you like to be (if these are two different things)?2) Do you ever think about writing a non-academic book? What would it be about?3) What kind of little kid were you?4) What’s

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1126667236562326392005-09-13T22:30:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.935-04:00

Where are you going? Where have you been? We went to Wisconsin, to mourn with a friend. By day three, I saw that she was more beautiful than I had remembered. Wrapped in her own pain, she stayed away from the Katrina coverage. But, like the floodwaters, the news it would seep. We sat in a restaurant while a CNN helicopter tossed water bottles to New Orleaneans trapped on a balcony. On the muted

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1125548926633435362005-09-01T00:14:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.852-04:00

I adore Dar Williams, but her End of the Summer CD has always been my least favorite of her albums. Blame it on the title and the somber photo on front. But the title track is striking and thought-provoking, especially when you can mentally pair the lyrics with their aching melody."The End of the Summer"The summer ends and we wonder where we areAnd there you go, my friends, with your boxes in

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1125456410279530022005-08-31T12:01:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.706-04:00

Three dill pickles.1 slice of multi-grain bread with peanut butter.1 bowl of cranberry-almond cereal with soy milk.1 two-egg omelette with vegetarian sausage, smoked mozzarella, and fresh tomato.Many, many grapes.1 glass soy milk.1 Luna bar.2 slices of multi-grain bread with avacado.1 1/2 bowls broccoli-tomato pasta salad.All that delicious food, and I'm still hungry. Guess the pregnancy

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1125421759640779672005-08-30T13:04:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.636-04:00

New Kid's eloquent post for Mr. Badger.How to help.If you haven't yet read Badger's "The Personal Gets Political" on our health care system, please do.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1125263369075422352005-08-28T16:44:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.562-04:00

Feeling a little blue on this drippy, droopy Sunday. Trying hard to regain the momentum of last week's loverly trip. And to heave myself out of the doldrums. (Doldrums always remind me of The Phantom Tollbooth. Which reminds me of the Phantom Toolbooth board game that my brothers and I made back in grade school. Which memory brings me to art and Ethel...)My great-aunt died yesterday. My mother

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1124736573557872882005-08-22T13:50:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.486-04:00

Woke up this morning to a strangest sensation. At first, I couldn't find the word for the feeling, but then it hit me.Rested!For the first time in about three months, I'd gone to sleep and not been awakened by a) our Siamese cat, going off like a fire alarm at 5 a.m.,b) nausea, thirst, or an extreme need to pee at 3 a.m., orc) vivid dreams.So what does it mean, I wonder, that I was up and walking

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1124420911978460422005-08-18T22:49:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.405-04:00

It all starts with the friend from Former Town, who emails out of the blue. Big news, she says. No one will get this joke but you. I reach her at work, and her crisp, professional voice gives way to delicious, salt-caramel irony.(I am walking toward my desk. Oh yes, the writing starts now.)But, wait, there's a voicemail. Long distance friend's voice is a blurred photo of a dancing child. She is

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1124226223174967562005-08-16T16:54:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.328-04:00

From Pilgrim/Heretic's site, I learned about a candlelight vigil for and with Cindy Sheehan. To find out about a vigil near your neighborhood, check out this link, and also the links that P/H has provided in her post.See especially Songbird's site today and the thoughtful post from a few days ago at Badgerings.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1124147455646272792005-08-15T19:03:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.248-04:00

My new passport arrived today, bearing my ugliest passport photo yet. (And, let me assure you, that's saying A LOT!) Have discovered that the new passports contain three more pages of fine-print travel instructions. They're also much flimsier than the old versions. This has me nervous, because a friend's return to the States was delayed three weeks on account of a small, corner crease in his

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1124131658446906202005-08-15T13:03:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.175-04:00

My in-laws flew back home this morning, following their five-day visit. Five days seemed like an excessively long time for us all to hang out and, indeed, my father-in-law started to make me a little crazy at times. In particular, I didn't appreciate his decision on Saturday night to rant about blogs. Bloggers, it turns out, are "losers" who "crave attention" and "waste people's time by

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123805184975974662005-08-11T19:44:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.098-04:00

The rejection letter I knew was coming finally arrived today. I ripped it open over the recycling bin, eager to continue repressing memories of my humiliating job interview of a few weeks ago.I was rejected all right. No surprise there. But I had to read the letter all the way through, because it contained none of the boilerplate language of the rejection genre. Instead, it was eloquent, generous

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123693613652143152005-08-10T13:05:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:48.026-04:00

... is just keeping my butt glued to the chair. And the internet connection turned off.Trying. It's trying. I'm trying.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123556685882541322005-08-08T23:01:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.948-04:00

I heard the baby's heartbeat today. It was strong and quick, and grooving to a techno beat.The midwife also assured me that I had a "nice big pelvis." Funny how, in this context, that sounded like the best ever compliment.Update: We had an ultrasound on Aug. 9, just to get a better idea of how "old" this kid might be. (Because of our early summer move and a lost pregnancy in April, I have no good

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123476603537728842005-08-08T00:49:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.875-04:00

Rest in peace, Peter Jennings.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123457027976675812005-08-07T19:19:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.799-04:00

1. First name: Was almost Samantha.2. Were you named after anyone? I have the same name as my mother, but I was not named after her. Adding to the confusion, my mother has never been called by her real name. 3. Do you wish on stars? I’m a sucker for wishing on anything that seems like a sign…. The place where we now live has a clearer vision of the night sky than any other place I’ve lived.4.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123340908796394642005-08-06T10:38:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.723-04:00

I started crying in the shower this morning. But it was a good cry — tears of one hundred percent joy. Our dear friends' baby has finally arrived. Granted, he arrived two weeks late and after 50 (count 'em!) fifty hours of drug-free labor. (Did I mention that his mother is a stud?) So we're elated he's finally here. Because I love his parents so much, I am already so very much enchanted with and

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123127528350741852005-08-03T23:42:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.649-04:00

This movie is my favorite movie of the summer.* I highly, highly recommend it.*Okay. Not that it's had a lot of competition. Or, rather, its competition has been as follows:Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Pretty lame. But had to see it because of the Gilmore Girls connection. Alas, Alexis Bledel was the worst thing about the movie. Liked America Ferrera and Amber Tamblyn, though.Howl's Moving

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1123039816987387062005-08-02T22:22:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.576-04:00

Ours is a pretty strange apartment. So, on that excruciatingly hot move-in day back in June, Adam abruptly re-routed a few items to the basement, which was easier for the movers to access. Four large cartons of books he asked them to stack in the basement corner. These were "low priority" books from his old office. Segregating them made sense, Adam said, as they would soon be transported to his

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1122912532378576522005-08-01T12:02:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.498-04:00

I wonder if our baby will love our cats as much as this kid appears to love his. I really don't endorse stacking stuff on cats — honest! But I found this image on this site, which reassures visitors that the cat in the picture is still breathing and apparently okay with the affection.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1122743265112924202005-07-30T11:57:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:47.423-04:00

...or, rather, Love for adoption.We are reluctantly trying to find a new home for our youngest kitty, whose name means Love. Which is to say that we haven't yet tried at all, despite an offer from one of my brothers to take Love to live with him and his dog.Love would do just fine with a doggy companion. But he needs what my brother can't give him: access to the outdoors.Love is a beautiful,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1122650014141905862005-07-29T10:30:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:46.326-04:00

So, we cut short our time at a family reunion week on account of my Tuesday job interview. The job was a part-time administrative job in an interesting area of the university. If I landed the job, I would have split the time between it and my upcoming research year. And after that..."Are you giving up teaching?" relatives wanted to know. "No. That is, I don't think so. It's only part-time."You

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1121996465364026372005-07-21T21:34:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:46.255-04:00

...until my deadline. Six weeks and six days until I start my new research gig.Got back yesterday from Former City. Tomorrow we depart for family time at the Jersey Shore. Looming: a conference paper to write and a job interview next week.So, naturally, I spent today shopping for some new clothes. (Birthday money. Summer sales.) Gah! Tomorrow morning's a good time to start kicking my own butt.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1121625217633275362005-07-17T14:32:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:46.185-04:00

Thursday, I went floating through the town. Or rather, the town came floating to me. Green was crisp in my brain from the newly cut grass. Summer asphalt wept tarry tears. Garlic and basil sang out from across the street, where autos grumbled acrid fumes.How funny it is to smell things before I see them. Oily metal typewriters, for sale on the sidewalk. Musty paperbacks, tattooed with basement

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1121308865626174252005-07-13T22:39:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:46.117-04:00

The news from Iraq today is beyond tragic. As inured as I’ve become to the near daily doses of grim news, I actually cried (and yes, I realize how screwed up it is to say "actually") while listening to interviews with children and parents on the scene. Meanwhile, NPR's Daniel Shor offered up another of his smart, cut-to-the-chase editorials, in which he reminded listeners that the investigation

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1121214567724208442005-07-12T20:03:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:46.048-04:00

I have a funny habit. I sometimes become better friends with people right after I have moved far, far away from them.The first time this happened was with my dear friend Q. In our senior year of college, we got along famously as roommates. But we hadn't been especially close in college (more like friendly acquaintances) and the fact of our cohabitation was by fluke (both of us returning from

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1121057542399695262005-07-11T00:50:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.972-04:00

Somehow it fits that I wouldn’t have morning sickness since I am not, and have never been, a morning person. Instead, I have afternoon sickness, which segues really gracefully into time-for-bed sickness.Saltines do a boffo job of muting the queasiness. Now if only I knew what to feed my head. Tonight, my brain is the rollerdome, circa 1954. All my worries clatter round it on horrid metal

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120836532985067612005-07-08T11:19:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.903-04:00

...bit it.Actually, no animals were harmed in the process of this morning's doctor's visit. The nurse fingered the air with double bunny quotation marks as she announced the rabbit's demise.Yep. I'm pregnant.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120750400990721492005-07-07T11:27:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.834-04:00

F-ing Idiots.Praying for healing (literally and otherwise) and that judicious responses prevail.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120673619335478652005-07-06T13:52:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.761-04:00

Poor G. has been called back to the vet. He was traumatized by his visit of two weeks ago, which happened to coincide with that of a dog who had tangled with a porcupine. Sadly for the beautiful husky, she had to be sedated before the vet could begin plucking out all seventy (!!) quills. Sadly for G., the vet ordered the sedation only after tugging on a few of the quills, sending the dog into a

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120671908803871012005-07-06T13:43:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.676-04:00

A lot of the time, yes. (But this was true even before I knew what blogs were.)"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."via Intellectual Con Fusion.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120671579256055712005-07-06T13:37:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.607-04:00

July 3rd is my cousin’s birthday. He lives in England now, estranged from most of our family. Even my mother now appears to have given up on him. Once upon a time, my cousin and I were babies together. My mother liked to tell the story of how she and her sister-in-law were reunited after a long separation, and how they bumped pregnant bellies in their rush to embrace. “Hello, baby. Meet your

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120396335232761512005-07-03T08:38:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.536-04:00

Moving to a new city not only rearranges one's sense of place, it may cause one to lose all sense of time. What happened to June? It evaporated somewhere back there in a frenzy of tape and cardboard boxes. Certain things I can recall: Dinners with new colleagues. My parents' lovely visit. The concert we attended with a pair of new friends. Having briefly absented myself during the concert when I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120238180247529252005-07-01T13:14:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.468-04:00

O'Connor, First Woman on High Court, Resigns After 24 YearsInsert serious swear word here.UPDATE: Lots of good links at Bitch Ph.D., and all over the internet, really. Meanwhile, I was so sad to learn about Jay O'Connor's Alzheimer's disease. Here's hoping the O'Connors may have a lot of quality time left to share.

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120165181598133652005-06-30T16:32:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.391-04:00

My mother urged me to pitch them, but I just couldn't do it. And so 42 empty tea tins have again made the move to a new state. The collection has grown a bit since the last move, and is a testament to a near decade of graduate school and teaching in places with blustery winters.In this world of cardboard and plastic packaging, it's feels wrong to throw anyway anything made of real metal — i.e.,

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1120023522118051802005-06-29T01:35:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.317-04:00

I am not an architect, nor a student of architecture, but buildings have played a serious role in my life so far.I had zero interest in my undergraduate alma mater… until I fell in love with its eclectic campus. I resisted moving across the country for graduate school… until I was charmed by the Twin Cities’ 1920s-era bungalows. My beloved St. Paul house went up in 1909, but it bore layers of

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1119629222640576492005-06-24T12:05:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.238-04:00

I believe that everyone should have the right to her choices. But I can’t lie to you: this woman’s First Person column, about abandoning her career the minute she discovered she was pregnant, left me mightily depressed.I’m all in favor of discernment, and if Hannah Goodwin now knows better what she wants in life, then bully for her. As she writes early in her piece: Although I have the training

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1119534606701034322005-06-23T09:42:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.160-04:00

We're about to walk into town in search of a brioche. Adam has never had one. It's been over ten years (egads!) since I last tasted one in France.The charming bakery of Alleged Utopia-ville has brioches on the menu. But they were long gone by the time we stopped in late yesterday, on a brioche whim.We may be luckier today. But will they taste as good as I remember? Did they taste good then?On

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1119506057686197222005-06-23T01:05:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.081-04:00

In my freshman year in college, we had to read Jude the Obscure. I'm hazy on the details of that book, save for one: I remember wanting to hurl it across the room at the moment that Jude's children hang themselves to relieve their parents' desperate poverty. "Dun becos we was too meny," writes the eldest boy on the suicide note. Oh, how I hated that book! And yet I find myself thinking of it

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1119297536929856032005-06-20T15:32:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:45.006-04:00

You might think that I was making this up, but it's true: Yesterday, as we drove my parents around our new campus, new town, we passed a woman with a cello strapped to her back. I've seen cellists carry their instruments like backpacks before. (Indeed, I've done it myself.) But I'd never seen an electric, canary yellow case like hers."Yellow Cello," whispered Adam. I felt the corners of my lips

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1117036779532527792005-05-25T11:46:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.934-04:00

It's clear that moving companies are doing a brisk business in our little corner of the Rust Belt, especially since the closing of yet another factory this year. One moving company rep was particularly cheerful in giving us an estimate. "He's like an undertaker in a time of plague," Adam observed.Are we death obsessed? Later that evening, Adam and I were lying flat on our yoga mats, in the final

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1116964074556199922005-05-24T14:52:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.861-04:00

• Why does my husband want to attend his ex-girlfriend's wedding?• Doesn't it matter that she cheated on him in graduate school?• Shouldn't it matter that she was (in his presence) as cruel as possible to me?• Is it "unforgiving" of me to think that we might have left her in our past?• Am I "suspicious" to be hurt by the fact of their renewed email correpondence? • Does it matter that she's now a

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1116565692519622432005-05-20T00:45:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.787-04:00

Tomorrow, our sweet little house will belong to someone else. And, much as I like the new people, I am making myself scarce for the a.m. walk-through. It feels like we're losing something more personal than property. I'm surprised by the envy I feel for these new people. Not just for taking the house, no. But for being on the verge of the life (and long residence) that was supposed to be Adam's

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1116382836110682492005-05-17T22:18:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.719-04:00

I dreamed I was eating lunch with my friend Lauren. When I looked at her, I could see the blood pouring out of my own ear.I dreamed I borrowed my husband’s penis. I tried it on in the tub and was amused to watch it work. I washed it out, and gave it back to him.I dreamed I was having a baby. I had mixed feelings about the baby, but, too late, I was already in labor. The baby came sliding toward

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1114038794931784922005-04-20T19:08:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.644-04:00

Have you seen The Meatrix?(warning: contains sound)

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1113943788774894552005-04-19T16:27:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.573-04:00

Had a dreamlike weekend in the Twin Cities... and came home to the something good.I won a research appointment for next year. At a school that I love. On a beautiful campus ten minutes from A's new job. So I get to spend next year researching and writing my book, instead of adjunct teaching. And, to paraphrase Virginia Woolf, I'll finally have a job (and office) of my own. I'd been so completely

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1113323456358893662005-04-12T12:15:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.507-04:00

Monday 12:42 a.m. A boy walks in front of my car at the stop light. Draped over his arm is a hairy, shiny-chested, gorilla costume. The boy notices me noticing, and he smiles.Tuesday 3 a.m. Adam and I spend our second night nestled in the single bed, on account of the houseguests. I'm thankful that we fit so well, and sleep so comfortably, in such a narrow spot. Tuesday 12:14 p.m. I step into the

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1113174066506396222005-04-10T18:29:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.356-04:00

The cracker experiment may be the only experiment that teachers made me do in both the first and tenth grades.Both teachers used the same set-up: "Chew this cracker thirty times — and learn a little something about chemistry in the process."By about the eighth chew, I was worried I might run out of cracker. So, I gathered, were my classmates. Giggling softly, we forced our jaws to perform

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1113160078347394852005-04-10T14:54:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.286-04:00

The Little Black Heart of the TelephoneThat telephone keeps screaming its little black heart out:Nobody there? Oh, nobody's there!—and the blank room bleedsFor the poor little black bleeding heart of the telephone.I, too, have suffered. I know how it feelsWhen you scream and scream and nobody's there.I am feeling that way this goddam minute,If for no particular reason.Tell the goddam thing to

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1112988008348628342005-04-08T15:18:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.201-04:00

...with my husband this morning. Over houseguests.This is the week of deadline hell, so I wasn’t all that thrilled when two of Adam’s grad school friends asked to stay with us on Tuesday night. But, hey – they’re exceptionally nice people, so who am I to be so selfish?But then there was the strange matter of the apartment guide that turned up in our mail several weeks ago. Assuming it was junk, I

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1112917354351597152005-04-07T19:15:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.125-04:00

There is a boy I once loved (and love still) named Joe. For a while, in the late '90s, wandering Philadelphia was our thing. Joe is one of those friends of my youth in whose energetic company the world suddenly becomes larger, more beautiful, and more alive with possibility. So I wasn't too surprised when, on a July 4th in downtown Philly, we bumped into Walt Whitman.Walt wasn’t dressed with the

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1112839088967424752005-04-06T21:55:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:44.047-04:00

A old grad school acquaintance appeared the in the Chronicle recently. He who wasn’t especially likable back then came off in the article as quite a thoughtful fellow.“That’s what the competition in graduate school can do,” said Adam. “It can bring out the worst in people, and temporarily turns them into pricks.”“Or,” I offered, “surrounded by such pricks, a graduate student can instead get in

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075311.post-1112800919157666612005-04-06T11:01:00.000-04:002006-10-27T02:14:43.972-04:00

I spent most of spring break and five full days last week finishing off an article that, at last, has been sent off for publication. Now I have one week — one week! — in which to send my dissertation manuscript off in time for a deadline the publisher gave me over a month ago.Oh, and I have to write a conference paper on brand new material. Technically, that's due tomorrow, although it's another

YelloCellohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16578609823207829529noreply@blogger.com3