Adventures in House Buying, Part I

Today, I took the plunge. I made an offer on a house. My first offer on my first home. It's still sinking in, but it's certainly a high point at the end of a long, exhausting week.

My real estate agent emailed listings over the weekend and I half-heartedly looked at the pictures, sure that these houses would be as disappointing as the previous 22 houses. I focused in on this house and on Sunday afternoon, I enlisted a friend to drive out for a first-hand look. Immediately upon entering the neighborhood, I felt my spirits lift. This wasn't a cookie-cutter starter home community, nor was it a neighborhood of homes that were past their prime. Instead, it was a neighborhood where people planted gardens and took pride in their homes. All the houses were surrounded by mature trees and there wasn't any through-traffic. All good signs.

The house sits on a rise in the middle of a good-sized lot with trees. As we drove by, my friend commented, "That's really worth looking at." I agreed, hoping that the inside would live up to the curb appeal. The next day, my agent and I headed to the house. The owner is handling the sale so he was there to greet us, accompanied by the world's oldest dog. He showed us around and then offered to take the dog for a walk so we could have some privacy. The dog showed some excitement as the owner got the leash and off they went.

We looked around and I found my enthusiasm again. The house has a lot of what I'm looking for. Best of all, it is clean and well-maintained. It needs some updates, particularly in the kitchen, but there's nothing that needs to be changed immediately. I was thrilled to find out that there's no carpet. I can scrub the tile and wood floors once (maybe twice) and those folks will be out of the house. The whole house gets good light, all the rooms are big enough to give the house the feel of a much larger house, and it's all on one level, so I won't have to navigate stairs all day.

Throughout the endless orientation sessions for my new job, I continued to consider the house. On Wednesday, I received an email from a friend who successfully navigated the stormy seas of home-buying, securing the keys to her new first home. "Maybe this IS possible. If she can do it, so can I," I thought. Riding the wave of encouragement, I called in my uncle who has signed on as knowledgeable consultant and chief hand-holder. We walked through the house and he agreed that this is the best house I've considered. Over lunch, he urged me to make an offer. His stamp of approval really helped to take some of the fear out of the next step.

Late this afternoon, after the latest endless orientation session, I made an offer. We'll see what happens from here. I'm bracing myself for the unexpected because everyone says that something will happen. Hopefully we can get settle on a price and I'll really have something to celebrate on my birthday in 3 weeks. Not a bad birthday present. Not bad at all.

Adventures in House Hunting, Part II

Since my last update, I've been on 3 house hunting adventures and seen 21 homes. If you're doing the math, 3 trips + 21 houses = burn-out. And that figure doesn't begin to include the hours I've spent on internet searches and drive-bys. Having spent all this time and energy and still coming up empty, I was beginning to feel like a huge loser, like I was doing something terribly wrong. Then, I read the following in House Buying for Dummies: "When you do it right, finding and buying a good home can be a time-consuming pain in the posterior." Validation at last.

Here's my most recent lesson: I'm not willing to settle. Yes, I have limited resources and yes, I know I'm not buying my dream home. But - this is a big investment and I deserve to have a home that I'm comfortable in. Like I said, I've seen 21 houses of all shapes and varieties. Out of the 21, I liked four, but none are quite right. Here's the Goldilocks part of this blog entry: House A was too small, House B had outrageous HOA fees, and Houses C & D were in iffy parts of town. None of them moved me to make an offer, though the small one isn't completely off the table. My agent assures me that this is normal and I'm not being overly picky, which is reassuring. She also assures me that my expectations aren't unreasonable, even in my price range. I hope she's right that my house is out there somewhere and that patience will pay off.

In the meantime, I'll continue the hit parade of bad choices:

• The Cave: Early in the week, we checked out a "3 bedroom unit" in a nearby duplex community. Upon entering the unit, we noticed the master bedroom right inside the door and smack on the front of the unit. No other room had a window that looked out of the front of the building. And it was pretty darn close to the street. Major turn-off. We continued through the unit - nice new kitchen, large living room, and separate dining room. Nice sized 2nd bedroom and another full bath - all good. But where was the much anticipated 3rd bedroom? The 3rd bedroom was a small interior room without windows. It was a cave. I could just hear my greeting to my guests, "Hello, welcome to my home. This is the walk-in closet where you'll be sleeping. Oh, and don't forget these sunglasses. You're going to need them when you emerge from this cave in the morning. Sleep well!" I decided to continue the search.
• Welcome to My House, If You Can Find the Door: Later in the week, we checked out a neighborhood of cluster homes on the other side of town. The agent pulled into the driveway and said, "OK, I'm confused." I looked closely at the rather narrow dark green house and realized that it didn't seem to have a front door, unless you count the garage door that dominated the front of the house. We got out of the car and stared at the garage door, trying to remember any Harry Potter incantation that might open the door. After about 30 seconds, the agent said, "Wait, there's a walk under all these pine needles. Maybe it leads to a door." We crunched our way around the house to the world's least welcoming entry way. Taking a deep breath, we plunged in. Inside was a slight improvement over outside, but the whole place reaked of undergraduates. As we beat feet out of there, I laughed and said, "I could hang out a shingle: Will trade History tutoring for yard work." My agent said, "Or you could just get a keg and call it a night."
• Red and Black Flag: After a long afternoon of house searching, my agent sent a few new listings for my consideration. One was for a 3-bedroom split level in one of my target neighborhoods. Split-level isn't high on my list, in fact it's a rule-out, but since we'd seen everything else in the neighborhood, I decided to read the description. According to the selling agent, the house is a "wonderful, spacious home situated on a generous, mature corner lot." Hmm, I thought, generous and mature. I like those qualities in people, wonder how they translate in real estate - ese. I read further and found this gem: "You will find a fun and playful rec room on the lower level. Painted in a whimsical Bulldog theme and accentuated with adorable, functional, and indestructible glazed concrete floors, this room is the distinctive selling point for this wonderful in-town home." Take a moment to consider how many times you've heard something described as adorable, functional, AND indestructible. That's some floor! And, let's not overlook the "whimsical Bulldog theme." For those unfamiliar with what this means (and I can't imagine who you are), it means that the entire room is painted red and black. I know, I saw the pictures. It's a converted 2-car garage. That's a lot of red and black, even for this bulldog fan. I had to agree, that's a distinctive selling feature all right. Needless to say, I did not add this gem to the list of possibilities.
• Smokey Joe's Toilet: Picture a toilet sitting in a non-descript master bathroom with non-descript linoleum. Now picture a burn mark about 3 inches in diameter about an inch from the base of the toilet. Add smaller burned specks all around the toilet. According to my agent, the seller's agent says that the house owner burned a hole in the linoleum while he was smoking a cigarette. I decided that this was not my house because no amount of hypnosis could erase that image from my brain.

So, the search continues. In the meantime, orientation for my new job is this week and classes start a week from tomorrow. Perhaps now is the time to work in syllabi that stubbornly refuse to write themselves.

Adventures in House Hunting, Part I

On Friday, I went out on my first real estate adventure. My agent took me around for 4.5 hours, which is a long time to look at houses. In those 4.5 hours, I learned some important lessons, which I believe will be the tip of a very large iceberg. Here's what I've learned so far:

• Lesson #1: I need more money. This point was made clear when we went to a dismal, horribly depressing community of starter-homes that are within my budget. Picture Dorothy's house tumbling from the sky and landing in colorized Oz. OK, now remove all the character from the house and send it tumbling from the sky, landing squarely on a concrete slab on newly-cleared Georgia clay that's still in black and white. Getting the picture? No trees, badly laid sod that has turned to sad little lawns, and bland little houses completely devoid of character. I'm convinced that you have to work extra hard to remove that much character from a domicile. After looking at 3 houses, I looked at my agent and said, "If this is my only choice, I'll happily rent for the rest of my life." She assured me that we weren't done for the day.
• Lesson #2: College Town is an oasis in the middle of the boonies: I like living in College Town because it has all the things I like about Big City without all the things that I don't. It's relatively easy to get around, you don't have to wait hours to get into restaurants, tickets for concerts and plays are reasonably priced, and there are multiple coffee shops conveniently located around town. That's the good stuff. Here's the down side: It doesn't take long to leave the relatively safe surrounds of College Town and enter the country, where there's no Starbucks and the only restaurant is Bubba's House of Whatever Beef We Got Today. Continue driving about a mile from Bubba's on an increasingly narrow 2-lane highway and you'll be smack in the middle of the boonies. All within 15 minutes of leaving downtown College Town. In my case, this translates to a smaller radius to hunt for a house, because I don't want to live where people regularly hunt for their dinner. I ain't a big city girl, but I also ain't a country girl. I want to be able to get the ice cream home from the grocery store before it melts.
• Lesson #3: You never know what you'll see on your house hunt: Let me just say that blush countertops were never a good idea. Not in the 1970s, not in the 1980s, not ever. Not in the kitchen, not in the bathrooms, not anywhere at any time. OK, got that off my chest. In another house, I learned a little too much about the current occupants. I looked at an older home - "older" meaning 1970s construction. I was drawn to it by the remodeled kitchen and great room with fabulous fireplace and large windows. Unfortunately, these rooms were connected to the rest of the house. The great room didn't have a television and I wondered if there was a den. The answer was "yes, but..." In the first bedroom, 2 chairs faced a television. The chairs were dead-ringers for Archie and Edith's chairs in "All in the Family." The TV was also vintage, a 15-inch big boxy TV sitting on a sad little stand. That was it. Nothing else in the room. I looked at the agent and said, "This is the saddest den I've ever seen." She agreed. We continued to the master bedroom. In the middle of the room was a very tall bed, which wasn't strange in and of itself, until you gazed at the relatively low ceiling and realized that the world's largest ceiling fan hung above the bed. I seriously don't think that you could sit up in bed without getting your head caught in the fan. And, as if that wasn't enough, the fan's chain was so long that it stopped about 8 inches above the foot of the bed. I said, "You could claw-toe that chain," and my agent replied, "Guess that's how they stop the fan so they can sit up without injury."
• This house brings me to Lesson #4: I need to be very honest about how much time, energy, and resources I want to devote to a house. In the 1970s house, the great room and remodeled kitchen were pretty darn great. The rest of the house, including the exterior, needed a major overhaul. I can only hope that someone will fall in love with the house and give it the attention it deserves. I'm honest enough to admit that I am not that person. After looking at houses with yards, I'm rethinking my commitment there as well. Yes, I'd like some space between my neighbors and yes, I'd like to look out on green space. However, I don't like to mow. I don't like to water. I don't like to dig in dirt. I don't like to sweat. You see the problem here.
• Lesson #5: A bland house doesn't have to stay bland. In our search, we found two starter homes that were remarkable because the owners made a few well-chosen changes. Both homes had tile floors in the kitchen and baths, wood floors in the main living areas, new paint on the walls, and relatively new decks on the back of the house. None of these upgrades were top-of-the-line, but made a big difference in the houses. While I wasn't thrilled with either neighborhood, I was encouraged that if I was faced with a character-free house, I could, over time, do some things to perk it up.
• Lesson #6: I don't have much pioneer spirit. When the housing bubble burst in College Town, it spewed a slew of unfinished high-density developments on my side of town. These are dismal, creepy places. The streets are paved and named, some houses are finished and stand within 20 feet of each other, but they look out on a big open field full of PVC pipes and weeds that are taller than I am (no height jokes allowed). The developments look like a tornado ripped through and spared a few random houses. Builders are desparately trying to sell the finished products before starting new homes, if they can even build new homes. Sure, I could buy into this emerging development, but there's no guarantee that the finished product will adhere to the original vision, and I'll have to live in a construction zone for years. Again, if this is my choice, I'll rent.
• Lesson #7: Patience. This is not my strong suit by a long shot. I'll admit that I'm feeling a bit discouraged. I thought my money would go farther. I thought I'd have better options. I thought I knew what I wanted. Friday was a series of, "OK, if you want a yard, this is what's available in your price range," followed by disappointment. "OK, if you want to be closer to town, this is what's in your price range," followed by disappointment. I'm certainly not giving in, but I am rethinking what I thought were my priorities.

More updates as the adventure continues.

Be Ve-wy Quiet, We're Hunting Houses

That's right, I'm boldly moving toward buying my first home. OK, "boldly" may be an overstatement. Trepidatiously sticking one little inconsequential toe into the water while making sure that all other body parts stay safely on shore. Yeah, that's more like it.

I don't understand people who jump right into home ownership. Hell, I don't even understand how anyone makes it to closing. It has taken me at least 3 solid weeks to just work up the nerve to call a real estate agent. Before yesterday, every time I picked up the phone, I broke out in a cold sweat and had the shakes. Picture a pimply-faced gawky teenage boy calling the most popular girl in school. Now multiply that by 100. That about says it all. Except I'm not pimply-faced, or gawky, or a teenage boy. Still, you get my point. I was nervous.

In the 3 weeks that I haven't been calling real estate agents, I've been doing a lot of research. Scientific research. First, I got myself addicted to any and all home-buying shows on HGTV. If someone's looking for a house, I'm all over it. The shows have been helpful in showing the ins and outs of the home-finding and home-buying process. It's helped to see real people buying real homes. It's helped to see them come out of the process with smiles on their faces, rather than huge dark circles under their bloodshot eyes, fingernails worn to the quick, and countless beads of sweat on their foreheads. I'm guessing that they've had some serious pharmacological intervention, and I want to make sure that it's a standard part of the closing process.

Here's where the shows haven't been so helpful: It's not helpful to see people who are my age qualifying for 3-4 times more than I'm able to afford. I've developed a real dislike for those people. It's particularly unhelpful to see younger people who are looking for a second vacation home in a different country. I've multiplied my dislike for those people. I actually enjoyed watching the episode where the guy bought a home in Honduras, followed by news of political unrest. I know that I'm probably going to hell, but I smiled at his misfortune. Poor bastard will have to live full-time in his beach house in Malibu. My heart bleeds.

In addition to HGTV, I've polled some of my house-owing friends to get their advice in this process. Some of the advice has been very helpful. For example:

• If you buy a house with a basement, make sure the basement doesn't leak before you buy the house. Sound advice if I've ever heard any. Yes, the friend who passed this along learned from experience and God bless her for forging the path for the rest of us.
• Buy in a neighborhood that does not appear regularly in the Police Blotter. Also good advice.
• Don't buy a house with a big yard if you don't like yard work. This is a tricky one because while I have a strong aversion to lawn mowers, I also want some space between me and my neighbors. I haven't yet figured out how to negotiate a balance here, though the idea of a hunky gardner is not without appeal.
• Think long-term. In other words, don't expect the house to be perfect from the moment you move in, and be ready to take your time to make it your home. Good advice. Reminds me of something a work colleague used to say: The reason God made time is so that everything doesn't happen at once. Very true.
• Have an idea of what you want but don't narrow your search too much in the early stages. Sure, you want to be on one side of town. Don't completely rule out the other side of town. Walk through a wide range of houses so you can really define your likes and dislikes. I'm hoping my real estate agent agrees with this advice.
• Get a copy of "Homebuying for Dummies." Here's one time where I don't mind being a dummy. This book is a gold mine. I almost understand "points." Where were these people when I was trying to understand statistics?

Friends have also offered less helpful advice. For example, "the market is down so aim for the absolutely best neighborhood in town and accept no substitutes." Yeah OK, I'll do that. Yes, it's a recession-style housing market. The problem is that I also have a recession-style income. So unless one of those fancy homeowners is willing to give their house away, I'm not going to be moving to that neighborhood anytime soon, unless I decide that walls and a roof are really overrated and I'd be just as happy with a canvas, poles, and some stakes.

Another friend advised that I should put 20% down to avoid the private mortgage insurance (PMI). This isn't necessarily "bad" advice, it's unrealistic advice. Sure, I could put 20% down - on canvas, poles, and stakes.

The advice I keep coming back to is something my grandfather told me years ago. I was buying my first car and the dealership kept pushing a car that wasn't exactly what I was looking for. My soft-spoken grandfather looked at me and said, "If you're going to pay that much money for it, you should get what you want." Absolutely.

So, tomorrow, I'm heading out on my first house-hunting adventure. I'm hoping to get through the afternoon without any episodes of screaming back to my relatively safe comfortable apartment. I'll let you know how it goes.

iTunes Random Play

Lately, I've taken to setting my iTunes library on random play and letting it go. I have about 3 days of music on my computer, so some songs get lost. Ironically, the shuffle brings them back into focus.


Right now, Nada Surf's "From Now On" got the call. I'd never heard of the band until I was driving home from a full day of teaching. From what I remember, it had been a long, tiring day in front of tired, unenergetic, sleepy students. I was whipped. Fortunately, I'd had the good sense to update my iPod before I left home. That morning, I'd downloaded an "All Music Considered" podcast. It was a live recording of Nada Surf in concert at a small club in California. Proved to be the perfect upbeat drive time music that allowed me to put the day behind me. I was never able to replicate that magic with "All Music Considered" podcasts and eventually stopped downloading them. On long drives home at night, I still thank them for Nada Surf.



Now, it's Better than Ezra's "This Time of Year." Got to be one of the greatest acoustic guitar introductions in all of music. I bought the CD years ago, for "Good," of course. I brought it home to my first single apartment, popped into the CD player and hit play. I sang along with the "Good" and "In the Blood," and sat back and listened to the unfamiliar songs. Just as I'd decided that I was undecided about my purchase, the first chords of "The Time of Year" rang out, and I was sold. Perfect song to remind you to"go on, let it be" and that we can all experience a "Friday afternoon" anytime we want to.



Now, "Fall on Me" by REM. College days, senior year, wondering if that Dartmouth boy would ever call me, wondering what the hell Michael Stipe is saying, wondering if I was ever going to finish my undergraduate thesis, wondering how long the bar across the street would keep $1 appetizers and beer for happy hour . . . all in that order. Then wondering where in hell was Athens, GA and how soon could I get there?



Up next, "Sweetest Goodbye" by Maroon 5. Since I don't listen to commercial radio, I discovered Maroon 5 through "Love Actually." I watch that movie every New Years Eve. If memory serves, this song plays when British Colin tells his equally British friend that he (Colin) is going to America because although Colin can't get laid in Britian, American girls will think that he's hot. We Americans laughed in the theater, but we watched as Colin arrived in Milwaukee and was immediately swept up by 3 American girls who thought he was hot simply because he had a British accent. We all knew that the scene was truer than any of us wanted to admit. Guess we didn't have the last laugh, after all.



Next, "With or Without You," U2 at their best. Always makes me think of someone I once knew who idolized Bono. Also reminds me of the drive from college to home - I-95 to I-287 across the Tappan Zee Bridge, to the Garden State Parkway and the New Jersey Turnpike, back to I-95 across the Delaware Memorial Bridge and home, singing along with Bono all the way.



Now, "Sunday Girl" by Blondie. I bought this song on iTunes about 2 years ago. If I heard it in the early 1980s when it was new, I don't remember it. When I bought it, I think I was aiming to buy "Heart of Glass," and got sidetracked. "Sunday Girl" is so catchy and upbeat, what's not to like? And, you can actually sing along with it, instead of muttering and humming along like we all do with "Heart of Glass."


Up next, a bit of country, Mary-Chapin Carpenter's "We're All Right." I'm a huge Mary-Chapin Carpenter fan. Time was, I'd buy her CDs after hearing part of one song. I'll admit that I'm not there anymore. "Time Sex Love" wasn't one of my favorites and made me a bit gun-shy. She got me back with "The Calling." Something about her music always hits me at the right time in my life with something that I want to, or need to, hear. "It's not too late to believe that fate has been keeping us from harm. No road maps, no lightposts, no North Star, no lifeboats, no miracle coming in sight. No voices to guide us, no angels beside us, no Shaman, no mystical light - but we're all right!" We're all right, all on our own.


And, finally, "Take Me For Longing" - Alison Krauss and Union Station. This was the first time I'd heard Alison Krauss, on a compilation CD of country music, blaring from my car stereo on a research trip in the Mississippi Delta. Blown away! "Don't choose me because I am faithful. Don't choose me because I am kind. If your heart settles on me, I'm for the taking. Take me for longing, or leave me behind." Amen. No settling for anything short of true passion. Choose a dog because he's faithful. Keep your friends because they are kind. Choose me because of something entirely different, and I'll be all of those other things. Amen, Alison.

OK, one more - "The Twist" by Chubby Checker. I bought this song as a possible accompaniment to my 1950s powerpoint slide show for my undergraduate history classes. I ended up using Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock." But, I still smile when "The Twist" pops up on random play. Makes me glad that my desk chair swivels.

Favorite Things

I've decided to attempt a series of blog entries, where I document and explain some of my favorite things. We'll see how far I get with this. (Those of you who followed my attempt at a "Photo a Day" blog are laughing right now.)

To get started:

I'm not a big snacker. I eat 3 times a day and usually don't eat in between. But, some days, I indulge in a late afternoon snack. I only do this on days when I finish my "to do" list by late afternoon. In other words, this is a rare occurence. I array a selection of cheese and crackers on a plate, open a bottle of wine, and sit back and relax, usually with a good book. On this particular afternoon, I had my favorite Townhouse Bistro wheat crackers, accompanied by 2 of my favorite cheeses: goat cheese and sharp cheddar. I went with a nice Pinot Grigio because it was warm outside and I wasn't really in the mood for red. The only thing missing was a bunch of grapes.

Honestly, I could live on bread and cheese alone. And pasta. Which might explain why none of my clothes fit anymore. I've met very few cheeses that I didn't like. Parmesan, brie, goat, cheddar, provolone, swiss, gruyere, ricotta, cream, Monterey Jack, colby, romano . . . all good. I'm not a huge fan of Asiago cheese. I tried it in a recipe once and it tasted like a wet washrag. Maybe I didn't cook it right. Either way, I haven't been brave enough to try again. I've not tried Limberger cheese, but its reputation, and smell, precedes it. And head & toe cheeses aren't really cheeses so I don't need to discuss them at all.

Likewise, I've met very few breads that I didn't like. As a child, I only ate white bread, as is programmed in small children's DNA. Nowadays, I firmly believe that white bread is the work of the devil. Who wants to eat bread that has no taste and becomes a soggy mess as soon as you put it in your mouth? Blech. No, give me a good hearty wheat or sourdough anyday. I'm not a fan of rye bread. Something about the smell and taste just don't do it for me. But, oh - cinnamon loaf bread! Nothing better in this world! Don't even get me started on bread-like products like doughnuts, bagels, biscuits, rolls . . . bread is perfection.

As for the flower in the photo, it's from a friend in Massachusetts. She's a college friend who likes to march to the beat of a slightly different drummer. She's not really far from center, but she's got this one "thing." Instead of sending birthday cards, she sends homemade Valentine's Day cards. Every year, it's a different design, cut from fancy printed paper.

I have to admit that I'd completely forgotten about the Valentine's Day card, so I didn't really miss it this year. Until, I received a box from my Massachusetts friend a few days ago. I opened the box and there, nestled inside, was this beautiful handmade flower. The card, cut from fancy printed paper, read, "Happy Valentine's Day!" It took a full 30 minutes before I realized that it wasn't February.

Even so, the flower brightened my day, and continues to brighten my kitchen. I figure my friend thought she was becoming too predictable, so instead of sending Valentine's Day packages in February, she'll start sending them at completely random times of year - just to keep the rest of us guessing.

Limbo No More

Seems I have at least one loyal reader - so I will end her suspense. Yes, I got the job. I did many versions of the happy dance yesterday. Many versions included flailing arms like Kermit the Frog. Oh yes, I waved my hands in the air. I waved them like I just didn't care. It looked a lot like:

I have to admit that it's taken a while for this to sink in. Starting in August, I'll have a permanent job doing something that I really enjoy. OK, yes, students can be frustrating, infuriating, maddening, and tragic. But, on most days, on balance, it's a pretty good life. I get paid (not enough) to do something that I really like to do and that I think I'm pretty good at - if you can believe my students' evaluations.

By some miracle, I managed to quit a perfectly good, but unsatisfying career, embarked on a new adventure that turned out to be a LOT of work, and ended up right where I want to be. If I didn't believe in divine forces before, I sure do now. So, Susan Boyle, you live your dream, and if you don't mind, I'll live mine, without You Tube.

Best of all, this new job means I can live right where I want to be. As I watch friends take jobs far away from family and community, I know that I am very lucky. As I watch friends take jobs in the armpits of various states, I know that I am very, very lucky. Speaking as a former army brat and longtime gypsy, I can't believe that I don't have to pack up and move. Not next month, not next year, not ever. I can stay put. I can put down roots. I can make a life here. I might go nuts and buy a house (gasp). I don't have to try to find a new doctor, dentist, or hairdresser. I don't have to find boxes. It's about damn time.

I know that there will be days when this new job will be challenging and stressful. When I quit my old job, I said, "Every job comes with crap. You just have to decide which crap you're willing to deal with." I'm a regular Confucius, I know. From what I can tell, this academic job comes with less crap than most. I'm willingly giving up the big research university salary for easier tenure requirements and quality of life. I've reached a point in my life where I don't want to work all the damn time, and I don't want to bounce around from school to school so I can slave and sweat my way up the academic ladder. Nope, I'm happy teaching basic history courses at a small state college where the faculty aren't trying to cut each other's throats (at least they didn't try to during the interview, which is more than I can say for the faculty at my graduate school.)

I can only hope that my graduate school friends and current colleagues in visiting positions find permanent jobs right where they want to be. That will be a very happy day.

Spring Showers

About ten days ago, the sun was shining and it was warm. I took stock of my spring wardrobe and decided that I was missing two crucial pieces of spring equipment. First, I needed a trench coat. No, I'm not planning a new career in flashing unsuspecting passers-by (passer-bys? passer-bies?). Instead, I've learned that the downtown area of Big City is a giant wind-tunnel. On rainy days, this means that an umbrella is completely useless. Even Rihanna's magic um-ber-el-la-a-a-a-a couldn't keep you dry on rainy days downtown.


So, I took myself shopping - and met with some success. I returned home with a classic trench, updated for today's spring shopper. OK, yes, I had my choice of the newest spring colors, including ice blue, mint green, Peptobismol pink, and some cheerful prints. I considered those choices, but none could out-shout my mother's voice in my head: "You'll get a lot more use out of khaki, won't you?" Bowing to internal pressure, I chose the classic khaki trench, hoping against hope that I wouldn't look too much like Inspector Gadget.


Now, I was all set - though I'll admit that I hoped I wouldn't need my new trench and umbrella. I don't like rainy days, especially when I'm downtown and especially when I have to teach. Rain makes my hair do strange and wonderous things - and not in a good way. And, the addition of an um-ber-el-la-a-a-a-a exponentially complicates the delicate balancing act I perform, looking more like a pack mule than a professor as I shuffle between classes.



But - as luck would have it, the gods knew that I got a new trench and voila - Rain! Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. Rain for the past 5 days. For those unfamiliar with the concept, here's a picture. Wet ground, gray skies, mud, etc. I understand there's flooding in the nearby surrounds. My apartment sits high upon a hill, on the 3rd floor, so I'm safe from rising waters. All I need to do is close my windows and doors and I can no longer hear the cries of my wet and soggy neighbors. Today, we've been treated to the cacophony of thunder and streaks of lightening (in the opposite order, of course.)



While I recognize that we need the rain, and while I recognize that I may have contributed to the rain when I bought a raincoat, and if it's not going to start raining men, I'd humbly like to ask for a chance to enjoy my other spring purchase:

I'm also looking forward to clear skies, when we can all enjoy the newly green landscape.

Anyone Notice I Was Gone?

Forgive me, Blogger, it's been 11 days since my last post. I don't really have an excuse, but I could recycle some recent ones from my students. Let's see: I had to be in court. Or, I was really sick with (choose one of the following: conjunctivitis, anaphylactic shock, stomach flu). Or my wife's car broke down - oh wait, I don't have a wife, so that one won't work. How about: my aunt died and I had to go to the funeral across the country. Or, I was in a car accident and hurt both of my arms so I'm unable to carry anything heavy, like a textbook. No, I'm not making any of those up.

None explain my break from my blog. Truth is, I haven't felt particularly inspired to write lately. I've been buried in writing lectures and grading quizzes and exams. Much as I try, I can't seem to find much motivation this semester, and it shows in my students' performance. I'm teaching the same course I taught last semester, using most of the same lectures. I'll admit that some of my lectures were rather uninspired last semester, but some of them actually generated questions and discussion. Some even drew a chuckle or two. Not this semester. I can't quite put a finger on the problem. Maybe I was more enthusiastic about the material when it was new and fresh last semester. Maybe I had more engaged and interested students. Maybe I wasn't as tired at the beginning of the semester. Maybe I'd gotten over my annoyance with studentery and started the semester with more positive feelings about teaching and students. I don't know. Maybe it's a combination of all of those things. All I know is that my afternoon classes aren't much fun this semester.

There have been some good days - days when I feel like I'm on my game and the students participate in a meaningful discussion. I like those days. On those days, I actually hum a little tune and feel some pep in my step as I cross the park to get my 4:15 coffee fix. Those days, I feel like I know what I'm doing and that my students might have actually learned something. Those are good days.

Then, there are the bad days - days when nothing seems to work. The lecture is rather dry and lifeless and I don't have any energy to pep it up. Only a few students did the reading, so discussion goes nowhere. Only a few students can recall anything we've talked about in previous classes, so discussion turns into a muddled mess of confusing, shot-in-the-dark answers to straightforward questions. Students who have checked out capture my attention and I spend the entire class frustrated with, distracted by, and pissed off at sleepers, texters, and internet surfers. These are the days when I wonder why I left my previous profession. These are the days when I drag myself across the park, yearning for the end of my day. These are the days when my feet really, really hurt.

Usually, in any given semester, I'll have one dud class. One class that just never comes together, never gels, never gets a personality, never shows any signs of life. Usually, this one class is counterbalanced with at least one good class. This semester, I feel like all of my afternoon classes are duds. One good day doesn't guarantee success again. Instead, I have to start from scratch everyday - building rapport, establishing good will, encouraging participation, convincing them that the lecture is actually worth listening to. Again, I'm sure I bear some of the responsibility for this exhausting dynamic, but turning it around requires energy, from me and the students. We're both running low at the moment.

I also keep reminding myself that it's often difficult to gauge student "enjoyment" or "engagement." Students who I believe are bored out of their minds and have mentally checked out might, in fact, be enjoying the class. I also remind myself that amidst the sleepers, texters, and surfers, there are students who are engaged, who are listening, who are paying attention. Then, I remind myself that there are 10 more classes until the end of the semester. All of this, and the As and Bs on exams raises my flagging spirit.

Spring Break Re-Cap

I've been on Spring Break this past week. Well, to be accurate, it's been 9 days since my last lecture. If anyone ever needed a break, it was me. I was tired - damn tired -when I closed up shop last Wednesday evening. But, before I let myself come to a full stop, I made a list of the things I still needed to accomplish during my break. The list was as follows:

1) Finish book review for h-net
2) Plan summer class
3) Write lectures for returning week
4) Get car washed
5) Get new pants hemmed
6) Grade quizzes

Here's the way the week played out:
Thursday: Recorded attendance and participation for previous week, started thinking about summer class, slipped into 3-hour coma all afternoon.

Friday: Considered taking pants to alterations place - and didn't. Rained all day. Instead, spent the day on some activity that seemed very important at the time, but which I cannot remember right now. I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with the list.

Saturday: Watched "Atonement," did laundry, attended GymDogs meet with Athens friend, then out to dinner with friend and her boyfriend. Nothing crossed off the list.

Sunday: Finished book for book review. Watched the snow. Took pictures of the snow. Emailed friends about the snow. Called friends about the snow. Watched the lights flicker on and off. Remembered that I don't own a flashlight and wondered how much light I'd get from my Yankee candles. Ate dinner at 5PM to make sure that I got a warm dinner. Still nothing crossed off the list.

Monday: Listened to the snow melt. Started book review - first words on paper in months so I had to spend some time remembering how to write. After the ice on the road thawed, made it out to buy a flashlight and batteries. Noticed that the digital camera batteries were running low. Made sure to add camera batteries to shopping list, noting the size to make sure I got the right kind. Came home with wrong size batteries.

Tuesday: Finished book review and put it in the cooler to germinate. Continued to listen to the snow melt.

Wednesday: Started conceptualizing summer class. Got sidetracked by job announcement for full-time position at Adjunct Central College. Prepared materials and dropped in the mail. Not on the original list, but a worthwhile activity nonetheless. Still no camera batteries. Watched "Lost" in real time, rather than catching up the next day.

Thursday: Continued conceptualizing summer class. Still no book list, but developed a plan and framework. Visited College Town Library to look at potential books - and remember how to read. Couldn't find parking on first attempt, so took car to the salon. Car is now white again, for the first time in months. Made progress on the course plan and set it aside - needs to germinate some more. Still stubborn snow on the ground.

Friday: Started writing lecture for Monday and graded one class of quizzes. Visited hairdresser, figured if the car can look better, so can I. Wore sandals without socks - 5 days after 7 inches of snow. Received mail ordered clothes - learned I am smaller than "Small" and that elastic waistbands are NOT a good idea. Cleaned kitchen and bathroom floors, cleaned bathroom. Watched "The Other Boleyn Girl."

Saturday: All snow is gone, but clean-up continues around town. Picked up tax return from accountant, dropped off pants at alterations place, took recycling to center. Returned mail ordered clothes to local store. Considered new strategy to get suitable work clothes, still working on plan. Finished lecture for Monday after dragging feet most of day and graded another class of quizzes. Vacuumed and did 4 loads of laundry. Still no camera batteries. Still undecided about book list for summer class. Watched "Then She Found Me."

Sunday: Finished visuals for Monday lecture, uploaded Monday class materials, grocery shopped - and finally got correct size camera batteries. Revised and uploaded book review. Noticed some green sprigs poking through the yellow winter grass. Considered plan for Wednesday class, but haven't started the lecture.

All in all, I managed to complete some of my initial projects while still finding time to enjoy my break. In all, I've watched 3 movies from start to finish and slept at least 9 hours each night. I think I'm ready to go back to work - I just don't want to.

That's the Breaks

I have a cold sore. It's reached the healing stage, which means it's a bright red spot on my upper lip. It's impossible to miss. I imagine that the astonauts in the Mir Space Station are charting its progress. "Da, it's shrinking, finally." I hate cold sores. I hate them for many reasons. First, it's impossible to hide a cold sore. My friends suggested that I teach in a burka. I actually considered it. I also considered a beekeeper's helmut. Finally, I decided that my students might just stay awake if they were distracted by the second lip sprouting under my nose. Second, cold sores make laughing painful. Contrary to my prickly exterior, I like to laugh. I don't like re-opening a wound every time I laugh. Pisses me off.

And finally, no matter what you do, no matter what you try, a cold sore never quickly goes away. No, it has to cycle through all of the really uncomfortable stages before it finally sings its swan song and disappears. My friend gave me some high-powered, prescription medicine and it seems to be working, but not fast enough. At least I'm on Spring Break this week, so I don't have to hide in the shadows, warning people to "stay away, I'm hideous!" Hopefully, this affliction will be gone by the time I face my students in 8 days.

Eight glorious days. One day more than a week. Yesterday was my first official day of Break and I spent the entire afternoon on the couch, in a coma. A three-hour coma. It was heaven. Then, I slept 9 hours last night. Today, I've actually felt the stress leaving my bones. I have work I need to to over break, but it's not immediately necessary for my current classes. I plan to eat good food, drink good wine, eat good ice cream, and work at a reasonable pace. And, I plan to watch movies. I know this break will be over way too soon, but I'm trying not to think about that. Eight days. Eight whole days.

Valentines

As a long-time single person, Valentine's Day is always hard. Yes, I know it's a fake Hallmark holiday, like Office Assistants' Day or Grandparents' Day. Still, constant commercials pedaling diamond heart pendants delivered by real-live teddy bears tend to put me in a sour mood.

This year, after spending much of the day in a funk, I've decided to turn a corner and embrace the spirit of the day. I don't usually tend toward sentimentalism, but I'm going to make an exception. On this day, here are 10 things that I believe about love:

• I believe that teddy bears holding red hearts can express love, but I think the real expression of love comes in everyday kindness and forgiveness.
• I believe in love at first sight.
• I believe that love takes patience and understanding, and the willingness to be a companion and friend.
• I believe that broken hearts never fully heal.
• I believe in soul mates. To me, they are the luckiest people in the world.
• I believe that finding love has more to do with timing than anything else.
• I believe that peace cannot exist without love.
• I believe that falling in love is a genuine act of bravery.
• I believe that a child's love can melt even the coldest hearts.
• I believe in the love of family and friends.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Southern Groundhog Rules!!

Let it be known far and wide that General Lee did not see his shadow this morning. Early spring is right around the corner.

(I understand that there's some imposter groundhog in Pennsylvania who claims to be THE groundhog. Phil, I think is his name. I think we all know that he's not THE groundhog. He claims that he saw his shadow this morning. I think we all know that he was drunk. Don't believe Phil. He's a bit whacked in the head.)

Don't know about you, but I'm putting away the winter coat and gloves. General Lee says early spring - so early spring it is!

Grading Meltdown

I've hit a wall. A big brick wall. I've been grading for 3 days straight and I have many more papers before I sleep. I keep telling myself to keep going. There is an end to this grading nightmare and I'll never find it if I stop. I've even tried bribing myself with peanut butter cups(living on the edge with the recent salmonella scare). Nothing is working. I'm going to give into my lesser instincts and whine like a baby. Waaaa, waaaaaa, waaaaaaa.

My students have just about convinced me that our founding fathers were a bunch of whiny, spoiled babies. Don't believe me? You read 100+ flag-waving papers about how we really stuck it to Great Britain. After reading the evidence over and over and over again, I'm starting to see Britain's side of things. I mean, c'mon, they were just trying to collect taxes that were rightfully theirs. And those stingy colonists, who'd lived it up for quite a while, certainly had an inflated sense of entitlement.

Here's my new interpretation of the colonists' point of view: "Oh no, see, we don't have to pay taxes because we don't have any representatives in Parliament. See, we're the only people who can represent us because we're soooo unique and special, except that we're just like all the other British subjects. Confused? Must be your problem because I am making perfect sense. What's that? You're sending troops? And they're going to live in my house? Oh no you di'n't! We're declaring independence from your ass! Oh snap!"

I'm pretty sure that's what Thomas Jefferson wanted to say. See how committee wordsmithing can really ruin a perfectly good declaration? I'm considering defecting to England. The accent is much cooler and Orlando Bloom lives there. And there aren't any papers to grade. Good enough reasons for me.

Must grade more papers.

Commercials

I've been watching a lot of TV lately. It's my last week before I plunge back into academia and, ... why am I making excuses? I'm watching a lot of TV, that's all you need to know. In the past few days, I've seen some rather interesting commercials. Indulge me while I reflect on these advertising masterpieces.

First: Pizza Hut. Pizza Hut, home of the "tomato juice covered cardboard," has introduced a new pizza - one that caters to the fine connaisseur in all of us, the same fine connaisseur who still wants multiple pizzas delivered to the house for $5 or less. "The Natural" from Pizza Hut has a wholesome multi-grain crust, organic tomato sauce made from sun-ripened tomatoes, organic cheese, and natural pepperoni. I'm pretty sure they've hired happy little birds to sing a happy tune while they construct your all-natural pizza.

On the commercial, the announcer says, "Put an end to pizzas made from processed crap." Clearly, I don't recall his exact words, but it was something like that. Here's the thing: Wasn't Pizza Hut the nation's leading purveyor of processed-crap pizzas? Are they finally admitting that their past pizzas were made with more unholy ingredients than a Twinkie? Interesting to note that they haven't discontinued the processed crap pizzas. In other words, "We care about you, more than our competition. We want you to be healthy. We're now using only all-natural ingredients, unlike our competition who will continue to harden your arteries and kill you slowly with their processed crap. However, if you'd prefer the processed crap, we still have that on the menu and will be happy to deliver to your home."

Next: Listen Up. This is a magic hearing aid that solves all of your problems, including not being able to hear private conversations from across the street or across the room. That's right, with Listen Up, you can finally indulge all of your paranoid and narcissistic fantasies and listen to what everyone is saying without the incovenience of hiding in bushes or pushing a glass against the wall. I'm going to forego the obvious questions about whether this is a good idea or not, and jump to filtering. This super-magic device simultaneously allows you to hear conversations up to 100 feet away, and allows you to hear a pin-drop from across the room. So, the question is: Who in hell wants to hear every sound in a 100-foot radius echoing in their ears? Ah, insanity has many manifestations.

Next: Weight Loss Supplement. I didn't catch the name of the brand, but the supplement comes in portions that look like the individual half-and-half containers you find in hotels and restaurants. The commerical shows a talking cartoon drawing of a rather shapely woman. She's telling us all about how she tried lots of diets and none worked. At this point, her cartoon figure ballons out, so she's now the shape of a beach ball (though her legs mysteriously remain slim and shapely.) Lady Cartoon then explains that she turned to this weight loss supplement for help. All she had to do was chug down two portions before her meals and she ate 1/3 less without being hungry. Then, miraculously, she returns to her previous shapely figure.

Here's my favorite part of this ad: After she slims down again, the advertisers put a disclaimer at the bottom of the screen. It says something like, "This is a dramatization using a cartoon drawing. Real people require sensible diet and exercise to achieve these results." So, if you exercise and eat sensibly and still don't achieve these results, you're not real.

Last: Macy's. The department store that ate the competition is having an end-of-the-year cosmetics sale. I guess they think that we all look like hell after the holidays. So much for rest and relaxation to restore our bedraggled skin and hair. So much for diet and exercise in these troubled times - nope, all we need is a new coat of varnish. According to the ad, you can get any of their fine elixirs and potions on sale, just in time to head back to work. One claim in particular caught my attention. At Macy's, "Sales associates are standing by to help you erase the past." Wow. It all seems a bit "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" but I'm almost tempted to head to Macy's, find a sales associate and inquire about this new service.

12 Unaccomplishments

For the holidays this year, I decided to mix things up with my annual holiday letter. Usually, people use the holiday letter to list all of their family's accomplishments, markers of progress, and current interests and hobbies. When you're single, you have to rely on your own accomplishments. The letter takes on a totally different tone when every sentence starts with "and then I . . ." followed by some stellar achievement. Because seriously, who's going to list their failures? Their shortcomings? Their disappointments?

Well, I gave that idea some thought and decided that listing my accomplishments seemed too self-aggrandizing. Besides, it was an embarrassingly short list. 1.) Finished Ph.D. 2) Got job that's one step away from adjunct poverty (like abject poverty, but with more work). And 3.) Turned 40 (I'm not really sure this was an accomplishment since I didn't have anything to do with it.) So, instead of listing all of my accomplishments in my holiday letter, I decided to list 12 things that I did not do this year. Here's my list:

1) I did not ask for, nor did I accept a government bailout.

2) I did not swim the English Channel.

3) I did not win American Idol.

4) I did not try to sell a US Senate seat for personal gain.

5) I did not construct a car out of a block of cheese.

6) I did not read the phone book from cover to cover.

7) I did not give birth to twins in the south of France.

8) I did not break any Olympic records.

9) I did not see any snow.

10) I did not change my home address.

11) I did not seek, nor did I accept, my party’s nomination for President of the United States.

12) I did not put my left hand in, I did not put my left hand out, I did not do the Hokey-Pokey and I did not turn myself about.

Who knows, maybe next year, I can move one of these items to my "accomplishments list. My money's on the cheese car.

Real Reality TV

For the past month or so, I've spent the middle of the week with Big City friends. The commute from College Town to Big City got to be too much on my weary body and soul. So, I take advantage of my friends' hospitality, paying for my keep in food and good humor.

I've discovered a whole new world at their house. They watch TV shows that I didn't even know existed. For instance, did you know that there's a show where marginally talented hosts discuss the latest tech gadgets and internet videos? The key to this show seems to be the size of the female hosts' breasts. The other key ingredient is the type of videos that they choose to highlight. In one video, a woman inserted a rocket into her backside and her "friends" lit the fuse. The video ended with her squealing as the flame reached her bare backside. I know what you're thinking, "Why would anyone do this?" I think the more important questions are: Why would someone film it? Why would someone post it? Not to mention, Why would someone show it on TV? And finally, Why would someone watch it? All good questions. I'm choosing to avoid the answers because I'm pretty sure that the only explanation is that we're all going to hell.

I also learned that there's a TV show where 2 grown men go around and destroy whatever they can find. They call themselves "Human Wrecking Balls." The show is all about watching these two fellows tear apart houses, boats, airplanes, etc. - all with their bare hands. Oh, and they can use whatever they tear up as projectiles to continue their total destruction. They have an engineer on hand to help them understand the construction, and subsequent destruction, of specific parts of the house, boats, airplanes, etc. I think the engineer is supposed to lend an air of education to the show. They also have an attractive female doctor on hand to tend to their injuries. I believe my mouth actually fell open while watching the promo for this show.

I have developed a true affection for "Dirty Jobs" on the Discovery Channel. Mike Rowe rocks. The show often makes my skin crawl, but in a good way. Who knew that someone got paid to crawl inside a ship boiler and clean it out? Or who knew that someone makes money by rowing out into a lake and collecting leaches? Actually, the collection wasn't the bad part of that show, it was the frying and eating leaches that turned my stomach. Gotta say that I would love to get paid to research potential dirty jobs for Mike, then watch as he cleans out sewers or crawls under mobile homes with a crazy guy whose shoulder pops out of socket. Overall, this show makes me feel so much better about my job.

In addition to these shows, I've watched a fair amount of Tim Gunn's Guide to Style and What Not to Wear (or "What Not to Watch," according to my uncle). Here's my problem with these shows: They take a woman who has questionable fashion sense, take away all of her crappy clothes, then give her thousands of dollars to replace her wardrobe with more stylish clothes. "More stylish" as defined by Stacy and Clinton, and Tim Gunn. By watching these shows, we're all supposed to learn important lessons and be better shoppers and better dressed.

This works great if someone gives you thousands of dollars. My problem is that I don't have thousands of dollars, so I end up buying scattered pieces on sale, hoping that they'll magically form outfits in my closet. They don't. My wardrobe consists of maybe 3 good outfits and lots of other tops and bottoms that don't really go together. And I won't even talk about the stuff that doesn't fit anymore. Damn aging and gravity.

So, in this age where anything and everything makes its way onto TV, I'd like to propose a new show. I'd like for Tim Gunn and Clinton Kelly to come to my house and sort through my closet to find the stuff that I should keep. (I'm not all that fond of Stacy London or Tim's sidekick so they're not invited.) Then, I'd like for Tim and Clinton to use my current disposable income to put a wardrobe together. Good luck! They can show me how to look cute even when I have to wear dowdy shoes. They can show me how to look put together at 4PM when I'm starting my final class of the day. Then, they can give me thousands of dollars.