Scavenging for groceries

I'm having one of those days. The kind of day where I drink my normal daily allotment of coffee in the morning, and then feel like I haven't had any coffee at all for the rest of the day. I think this means that I'm tired.

I managed to get some work done this afternoon, finally completing a long-overdue, lingering consulting project that had been weighing me down like a ton of bricks. I'm not sure that it's my best work, but it's done. I put the invoice in the mail today so with any luck, I'll be able to finally pay off my new computer by Christmas.

I finished the project at about 4PM and decided to address another pressing problem: No food in the house. More importantly, no half-and-half in the house. I put together a grocery list and headed to the K grocery store. I've been shopping at the P store, but today, I had some dry cleaning to drop off and the dry cleaner is near the K store, so I went to the K store.

I stopped shopping at the K store when they rearranged all the food. I'm sure some highly paid consultant (present company excluded) thought that rearranging the food was a good idea. I'm sure they conducted many focus groups to decide where to put the food. I'm also sure that they only involved mentally handicapped, logically-impaired gerbils in these focus groups. Since I'm not a mentally handicapped, logically-impaired gerbil, I can't find a damn thing in this store.

Take today for example. I made it through the produce and meat just fine. Then, I turned my cart to the food aisles. I only needed a few things. I passed up the aisle with the buy-in-bulk specials because I'm only one person, I don't need bulk. I made it halfway through my list and realized that I needed rice. I went back down the pasta aisle. No rice. I went to the "ethnic food" aisle -where you can find salsa and chow mein in a can. No rice. Almost giving up, I turned down the bulk food aisle again. There, in the middle of "30 cans of beans for 10 cents" was the rice. I'm sure this made perfect sense to the mentally handicapped gerbils in the focus group. Next time, I'll ask myself, "WWMHLIGD?" (What would mentally handicapped, logically-impaired gerbils do?)

In total, I ended up going through the frozen food section 3 times, saw the pasta 4 times and passed the cheese twice. In the process, I almost mowed down a fellow in a wheelchair. I finally made it to the check-out line. The bag girl asked if I was having a good day. I considered responding, "Why? What have you heard?"

I walked out of the store and headed into the parking lot with great confidence. I knew just where I'd parked. Or not. Overshot it by an entire aisle. Finally, I found my car, loaded up the groceries and came home. Next week, I'm going back to the P store - and I'm drinking more coffee.

But, for now, I'm all set for a rockin' good Halloween. I have popcorn, candy, and . . .

What more could a girl want?

Distracted?

No, I'm not distracted these days. Just because I tried to pour coffee beans into the dishwasher yesterday doesn't mean anything. Nor does the fact that I've left the house twice with my fly open in the past week. At least I caught the problem in the car this morning. Earlier in the week, I made it all the way to my hair appointment before I realized that my zipper was not secured. Thankfully, it was cold enough for a jacket so no one knew of my faux pas.

I really don't know why I'm being so flighty. I'm not any more stressed than usual, I don't think. Maybe I've just reached a saturation point and my brain can't handle small details like coffee beans don't belong in the dishwasher. Anyway, I'll be sure to keep you posted.

Georgia Voter

That's right, I'm a Georgia Voter. Got my very own sticker to prove it. This year, the great state of Georgia is opening the flood gates early and letting any jackass (or elephant) vote early. Works out great for me because I have to be at Big City University all day on Tuesday, a location that is most definitely out of my voting precinct.

So, I performed my civic duty yesterday. I went downtown and got all prettified at the salon, then headed to the county Board of Elections. OK, I didn't get prettified just to vote, just coincidence. And, you never know who you'll meet in line to vote. As soon as my hairdresser put the finishing touches on my hair, I ventured out into the cold misty afternoon. "Maybe everyone is staying inside," I thought as I walked toward the Board of Elections.

I turned the corner and realized that everyone was not staying inside. Instead, they were clogging the sidewalk outside the Board of Elections. So, I turned around and walked to my car - where the meter had already expired. I didn't have any change to feed the meter, having used my last quarter on the first hour. Undaunted and filled with civic and national pride, I moved my car to the parking garage and joined the line.

I was really impressed with the number of people who were willing to stand in the cold and mist to cast their ballots. I waited about 45 minutes. I shivered a bit. I thought about what the mist and humidity was doing to my coif, and hoped my hairdresser wouldn't see me turning his hard work into a big frizzy mess. I thought that I really should have worn more comfortable shoes. Oh, and I thought about this historic election and how lucky I am to live in a democracy. No, really, I did.

Scanning the crowd on the sidewalk, I noticed a great diversity among the voters. Black, white, young, old, tall, short, obviously insane... OK, it was just one guy. He had on flannel holiday pajama bottoms with Tweety Bird calling for "Holiday Tweets for everyone." He carried a pink cordoroy purse with fur trim and wore a red velvet coat. As I made my way through the maze inside the teeny tiny office, he clutched his papers and moved from one line to the next, clearly confused and out of his element. I took a few more steps up the Geek Ladder as I thought about the 1908 Georgia voting law that required all voters to be sane. The same law required literacy tests and "good character." I thought about that as I took note of all of the African American voters in line with me. I also recognized a number of the pictures in the Board of Elections. "Oh, that's the 1912 woman suffrage parade in Washington DC," I thought. I stopped short of giving an impromptu lecture on the history of voting. I like to think that my fellow voters felt short-changed.

I finally worked my way to the voting machines. Carefully, I made my selection on the touch screen, double-checking to make sure I didn't pull a "2000 Florida" and choose the wrong candidate by mistake. I registered my vote and pulled out the little yellow card. I exchanged the card for my "Georgia Voter" sticker and walked out into the afternoon mist, leaving Tweety Pants sitting in the corner, looking very bewildered.

As I drove out of downtown, I passed a procession of strangely clad people, advertising a local version of the Gong Show at a local bar. I didn't recognize everyone in the procession, but I did recognize Jesus and Pac-Man. And an alien. I considered introducing these folks to Tweety Pants, but decided to carry on about my business, making a mental note to always carry my digital camera because you never know when you'll need it.

Great, Now Shut Up

Last week, I went to my mid-afternoon class and went through the now familiar routine. Walk in, put my belongings under the desk, rummage through my purse for the flash drive, put flash drive in computer, wait for computer to recognize flash drive while getting my notes out, etc, etc. About the time that the computer indicated that all systems were go, I heard singing outside my classroom. Yes, singing.

My 6th floor classroom faces the relatively small concrete courtyard in the center of the Big City University campus. The courtyard is surrounded by multi-story buildings and has a dry fountain in the center - one of the many casualities of the drought. There are a few sad trees that try to green up the place, but overall, the buildings and dry fountain give the courtyard the feel of a prison exercise yard. Whenever I look down into the well from my classroom, I half expect to see Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins talking about hope. Instead, I see students milling about, trying to act like this concrete jungle isn't horribly depressing.

Apparently, one of them has discovered that the courtyard offers great acoustics. While I set up for my class, I heard, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..." Clear as a bell, a beautiful Sam Cook voice filtered into my classroom - 6 stories up. I thought, "That kid's got some pipes." My boring, dull students told me that the courtyard singer had been at it all afternoon. They weren't impressed, but then nothing impresses this group. I could walk in and set myself on fire and they'd just yawn and tell me how some other teacher set himself on fire earlier in the day and they were so over it.

The singer wrapped up his set and moved on just as I started class. I didn't give it any more thought, except at those random moments when I caught myself humming, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..."

Flash forward to yesterday: I was lecturing away in my late afternoon class, trying desparately to explain the stock market crash of 1929. I am not an economist and I don't want to be. I had a loose grasp on the basics of the crash and had successfully explained what I knew in 3 classes. Now, it was the 4th class and I just wanted to get done. As I walked through my explanation of "buying on margin," there he was again, the courtyard singer. "Day-o! Day-ay-ay-o! Daylight come and me want to go home." "Bastard!" I thought, but miraculously, did not say out loud.

My students also heard the song stylings emanating from the exercise yard and became highly distracted. I'm sure it was the singer, because what student wouldn't want to spend their afternoon talking about buying on margin and economic depression? Seriously. As the singer continued to insist that he wanted to go home, I said, "Yes, we all want to go home. Now, shut up!" My students laughed and we were back on track. Well, I had their attention again. My brain had shut down for the day. I was on auto pilot. Hoover - FDR - New Deal - blah, blah, blah.

I'm thinking of giving the courtyard singer a list of relevant songs for my class and have him provide background music for my lectures. Let's see - next up: World War II. Maybe he could do a rendition of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," or "Over There." When we talk about the women's movement of the 1970s, I'm sure he won't mind belting out, "I am woman, hear me roar." All from the prison exercise yard with the great acoustics.

History Writer

As my new work colleagues talk about sending out article manuscripts for review and obtaining book contracts, I remain mired in grading, writing lectures, and fielding student requests and complaints. On my way home yesterday, my trusty iPod shuffled to "Paperback Writer" by the Beatles. Got me thinking about courting publishers. I think I'll send this rendition with my propectus to potential publishers.

History Writer
(sung to the tune of "Paperback Writer" by the Beatles)

History writer (history writer)
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took six years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a program to help people read,
And I need a job, so I want to be a History writer,
History writer

It's the southern story of excluding blacks
From voting and reading and all of that
The teachers try to help people read,
I've written it up and I want to be a History writer,
History writer

History Writer (History Writer)

It's two hundred pages, give or take a few,
I'd have written more but I blew a fuse
I can make it longer if you like the style
Or I'll change the whole thing, I'll even wash your car
History writer, History writer

If you really like it, you can have the rights
And I'll cook dinner for you every night
All I ask is that I get tenure, I need to eat
So I want to be a History writer
History writer

History writer, history writer
History writer, history writer

Angered the Wrong Universal Force

Apparently, I've angered some very vindictive universal force. I'm not sure when it happened or how, and I'm not sure how to undo it, but I hope this force smiles on me soon. Allow me to recap the past few weeks:

1) Lost my flash drive with all of my computer files on it.
2) Computer froze and slipped into a coma, cutting off access to my files.
3) Got in traffic jam, had to cancel first class, ran a very confusing and disorganized second class with wrong version of lecture
4) Confronted a very sluggish classroom computer, tried to run class, finally aborted class, cancelled the rest of the day and went home
5) Student risked life and limb to turn on classroom projector when remote failed to work
6) CD with sound files of oral histories wouldn't rip onto my computer, complicating what should have been an entertaining lecture
7) DVD wouldn't play in my office computer
8) Couldn't watch TV at friends' house because couldn't figure out satellite TV and Tivo
9) Blew fuse at friends' house while warming food in the microwave
10) Almost lost friends' dog when I opened the garage door instead of turning on the light

And finally . . . the best of all: I returned from lunch today, unlocked my office door, and the entire door handle came off in my hand. At that point, I just started laughing. What else could I do? A colleague told me "not to fly off the handle." I took some consolation that perhaps I did have a firm handle on things, all evidence to the contrary.

Death Takes No Holiday

We're 8 weeks into the semester and I have to say that I'm becoming increasingly concerned about the death rate among my students' friends and relatives. So far, my students have lost 3 siblings, 3 close friends, and a father. In addition, at least 5 of my students have diseases that require regular medical attention and make it impossible for them to come to class. One mother was hospitalized but is on the road to recovery. One student who started the semester on crutches is just limping now, so maybe she's healing.

The second exam is next week. Here's hoping my students' friends and relatives survive. Here's hoping my infirmed students can leave their sick beds, dragging an IV and oxygen tank with them if necessary.

Finally, here's hoping this isn't a sign of a larger curse that affects people who spend time with my students. I think I'll get my cough checked out, just to be on the safe side.

Weekend Update

It's late on Sunday and I'm looking at the back end of another weekend shot to hell. I spent much of the weekend preparing for lectures next week and grading papers. I hate grading. I really hate grading piles of garbage. I know that I'm supposed to offer helpful comments and find at least one good thing in each paper, but when over half of the papers are repetitive, redundant, repetitive summaries of crap, it's hard to be nice. For some, I was reduced to something that sounded a lot like: "Dear Student X: In your paper, you managed to spell your name correctly. Congratulations. It's too bad that you misspelled my name and Fredrick Douglas (the subject of your paper). Better luck next time." I'll just say one thing: Frederick Douglass's name has 2 Es and 2 Ss.

My lecture is incomplete. I want to use clips of oral history interviews and have run into technical difficulties. The CD is a companion to a book about African Americans' memories of Jim Crow segregation. When I did this lecture 4 years ago, I popped the library's copy of the CD into my computer and presto! It loaded straight into Media Player. From there, I could embed individual sound files into my Power Point presentation and really looked like a real techno-badass teacher.

Fast forward 4 years to a new computer, new operating system, and new CD. I put the CD into my computer and I can't load it onto my hard drive. I can play the CD and I can create a playlist in Media Player, but I can't put the individual files onto my hard drive, which means I can't easily embed them into my Power Point presentation. I don't know if this is a copyright issue, a Vista issue, or just God's wrath raining down on me. Grrrr. Very frustrating. Now, instead of looking like a techno-badass professor, I'll look like a techno-idiot, trying to construct a coherent lecture while juggling at least 2 different pieces of equipment. I'm not giving up, even after a major techno meltdown last Thursday.

Late this evening, I checked my email from the northeastern post-industrial wasteland. Second on the list was: "Job Offer: Secret Shopper." I like to shop, I thought. I don't like to grade, but grading salespeople might actually be fun. Just so I don't have to read any papers about Fredrick Douglas waiting on people.

Politics Georgia-Style

According to my trusty calendar, it's time for the Georgia State Fair, when folks from far and wide bring their oversized livestock and produce to the center of the state for a reminder of how simple life used to be. According to georgiastatefair.org, the fair is in Macon. Last time I checked, the state fairgrounds were in Perry, about 20 minutes south of Macon.

My only visit to the fairgrounds was for my last job in Georgia. In an effort to equalize travel for everyone, we had a statewide meeting in Perry, as close to the center of the state as you can get. The meeting was in a room that overlooked one of the indoor arenas. The first day wasn't bad. The second day, we learned that the room was not soundproof. Our meeting was interrupted by a loudspeaker announcing the beginning of some sort of horse competition. The rest of our meeting was punctuated by "So, let's hear it for..." followed by applause. We soon learned the room wasn't smell-proof either. We didn't have any more meetings at the fairgrounds.

According to my local paper, Georgia's candidates for US Senate were treated to a similar reception during their debate at the fair last night. The paper reports that "a rowdy crowd of 300 cheered, jeered, and often drowned out the candidates." Sitting Senator Saxby Chambliss apparently had a huge "Kick Me" sign on, as the other candidates criticized his support of the recent bail-out package. Their attacks were supported by "backers, most of them bused in from Atlanta." Leave it to the damn eco-conscious Atlanta carpetbaggers to ruin a perfectly good rural folk hootenanny.

But Chambliss wasn't without supporters. Scattered throughout the crowd, people who apparently drove their own cars to the fair "waved 'Saxby' signs and offered up sustained 'boos'" when another candidate mentioned Barack Obama. One woman even "hollered, 'Bomb Obama!'" That's classy, real classy. I'm guessing the woman is very familiar with "being bombed."

While the debate crowd grew more and more partisan and less and less dignified, "outside the cavernous arena, fairgoers munched on funnel cake and pork butt on a stick." Now I consider myself a good Georgian, but hell if I know what "pork butt . . . on a steeek" is. Unfortunately, the fair's website doesn't explain it either. After further research (which was a really good use of my time), I learned that pork butt on a stick is a member of the barbecue family, like a shiskabob of pork butt. I just know that there has never been a day when I've thought, "I'd sure like a pig's ass on a stick right about now. And a side of funnel cake. That would really hit the spot." I also know that if I ever form a band, I'm calling it, "Pork Butt on a Stick."

If you ask me, sounds like there was a lot of ass-chewing both inside and outside the "cavernous arena." Almost makes me wish I'd been in Perry last night, and I assure you that I've never made that statement before.

Straight to Hell, Do Not Pass Go

These are troubled times. The US and overseas economies are hanging on by their collective fingernails, the Presidential election is sliding into a morass of name-calling and back-stabbing, and Orlando Bloom is still galavanting around saving orphans and not making any new movies. Troubled times, I say.

But, the worst sign of all, a true omen of the impending apocalypse, a "bend over and kiss your ass good-bye" harbinger if there ever was one:

This movie was #1 in the US box office last weekend. Ouch, I'm in actual physical pain. Seriously. Real. Physical. Pain. We can't afford a tank of gas, but we can afford tickets to watch talking dogs? Really? I don't want to ruin the movie for anyone, but those dogs can't really talk. What's next? A full-length feature film starring the Aflac duck? At least that would be entertaining because that duck can really talk. Seriously.

Image from: http://3disneyboys.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/beverly_hills_chihuahua.jpg

Back in Business

Greetings from my new home computer! I'd include a picture, but I'm still working out the interface between my computer and my camera. I trust they'll be good friends before long. Although the camera and computer are still negotiating the terms of their relationship, I successfully managed to load MS Office, iTunes, printer drivers, and virus protection yesterday. For most people on the planet, these are relatively easy procedures. With my extensive history of killing computers softly with software, I'm always amazed when things go smoothly.

So far so good with the new stalwart companion. I'm adjusting to Vista and stiffer keys. The base is also "thicker" than my old computer so I'm pretty sure I'm at grave risk for a crippling case of carpel tunnel. I'm also adjusting to a squattier screen, forcing me to scoll up and down a lot more. The new computer has a built-in remote-looking thing next to the keyboard so I can easily watch movies. As if I need more encouragement to procrastinate.

I think my computer and I will be good friends. I notice that I'm not deafened by fan noise nor am I forced to wear asbestos gloves to avoid burning my fingers. All improvements in my book. And the sound system is better, probably because it's not competing with a loud fan. By "fan," I mean a whirring sound, not someone standing next to my desk yelling, "Go computer! Woohoo!" That would be really annoying.

So, after a week that left me feeling disorganized and completely off my game, I feel my life coming back on track. My errant flash drive came home mid-week and things really started to improve. I've decided that I can't ever lose that flash drive again.