Blogger is acting up. Again. That's one downside of posting more often, one notices how annoying and unreliable this tool can be.

This morning there were two deer attacking the yew in the yard. I watched them from the bathroom window, only about six feet away. It will be a miracle if the bush survives, what with the winter and now this. A bit down the hill, there was another deer grazing on a newly defrosted patch of grass. Soon there will be fawns. My plans for an expanded vegetable garden are evaporating. I live with this in Samsonville, but here in Castleton? They can have the yew, even some of the hosta, but I am not willing to share the green beans. (Or maybe I would be, but experience tells me the deer are not.) So another project is on the horizon: a garden fence. Assuming the ten feet of snow melt in time, that is (I am only exaggerating a little).

Happy St. Patrick's Day! The weather yesterday was picture perfect for a parade.

I may have to revise my goal of writing here every day, since I have not been able to do it so far. The original goal of once per week was easy to exceed, but daily posting may be reaching. I don't know. I guess I won't abandon it yet, though sometimes this may lead to less than riveting entries...

I write from Samsonville. After a hard working week, what with the kitchen rehab, and mid-semester assessments of students, it is nice to be here, away, and put a physical distance, that forces a mental distance from those projects. But I forget how frustrating a dial-up connection can be! So slow...how did I manage?

Occasionally I check, and it is interesting to see how folks find there way here. Recently a lot navigate from typing "Trafficmaster vinyl tiles" in a search engine. (Yes, they are great in terms of installation, I have not had them down long enough to see how they hold up.) My historic preservation stuff yields visitors, too, both the Wynkoop House (which still stands, keep your fingers crossed) and the Defreest-Church House (which does not, and is rapidly being replaced by a Target, ugh, boycott them). As soon as I clear my plate, I am going to work on a new virtual museum and newsletter, and historic preservation will be the focus of the newsletter. I'm considering architecture - maybe bungalows - for the virtual museum, but it's still brewing.

Today I walked the dogs without wearing my coat. I think it must have been nearly 60 degrees outside! Sophie was vacuuming the exposed ground, it has been so long since there was any without snow cover. Plus, with her hair and low to the ground issues, it is hard for her when it is cold and snowy. (Or, for that matter, because of her allergy issues, when it is hot with vegetation.) The dogs play a tug of war, with me as the object that gets pulled in two directions. Rudy wants to trot off, covering lots of territory. Sophie wants to sniff every inch, as slowly as this dial-up connection, usually in the opposite direction. Obedience training, you say? Ha!

Tonight we had a corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and carrots dinner at Aunt Dot's (with cappuccino cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies). Yum! Tomorrow is the St. Patrick's Day parade.

It is snowing again, to Rudy's delight.

Worked all day on the kitchen floor tile job. I do mean all day, from 8:30 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. I did take a couple of breaks...to check my voice mail and email. Summer registration is coming soon and so students are starting to contact me for advisement. Also, the third group projects started today in the online class so I had to spend a little while on that. But the majority of the day was like a show on HGTV, except on that channel projects look so easy, quick, clean...and there is a TV crew on site to help!

Anyway, it's almost done, but unfortunately what's left are quite a few tiles at the edges here and there that need to be cut, and a few will be difficult to trim and fit. So I guess I missed another entry! Home improvement and writing in the ejournal everyday conflict.

Now I'm off to ebay to try to get a hanging lamp for over the table.

Tuesday Too

1.) What's your take on this article from the New York Times today?

I have several reactions:

(I) I remember this subject was extensively discussed when I was a student in the MPA program. There are a lot of issues raised by being able to connect discrete databases because of innovations in technology (for example social services with criminal justice with health with etc.) and thereby make access to information so much easier. I've heard questions like, will employers not offer jobs to individuals with health conditions that might cause excessive time off or increased health insurance premiums? Will the State use EZ-Pass (New York's automated system for paying tolls on the NYS Thruway) to track speeders by calculating how long it should take a driver to get from Exit A to Exit B? (And I privately think, tell me again, how is that second question a bad thing?)

(II) Now because of our current political situation people outside of grad schools are thinking about the nuances of this. It is complicated. I think to a very large degree this is already going on; not just in government, but in industry, here on the Internet, you name it. That Spam is coming from somewhere. If technology can do it, then someone will implement it, scary or not. Do I think there could be a problem, maybe in some cases already is a problem? Yes. Am I concerned or upset at the moment? No. I think I have written here before (and I really write very little on this topic, and I will not start now) a lot of things changed for me on 09/11/2001. Call me naive for this answer, but before that date I think I really was clueless.

(III) I applaud individuals who stand up for what they believe in by "putting their money where their mouth is." I once left a job because I didn't agree with the agenda of the new management. It was a big risk, but I landed on my feet. I have no tolerance for hypocrites who keep putting in time and collecting a paycheck, then bad mouth the organization, damage morale, all the while whining that they have no options, pretending that they somehow are above it all, and are not endorsing the company line.

2.) Network television is swimming in "reality" shows. You are the creator of the latest show to hit the circuit. Give a brief description of your show. Sarcasm welcomed.

"Survivor, No Joke." Contestants fight until death, and the last person left alive is the winner. Loosely based on The Lottery.

3.) What do you really wish you were doing today?

Home, in the company of my animals, finishing the install of the kitchen floor tiles. (I worked at it until 2 a.m. last night!) But instead this is my day on campus.

I have a gorgeous antique bookcase that was Mimmie's. In my lifetime she used it to store utility items on the back porch. It was painted green and sat next to the springy wooden screen door that creaked when you opened it. The porch at the old place had the fragrance of mildew mingled with cats. It may seem strange to choose the word "fragrance" to describe the odor but in my memory it wasn't unpleasant. My front porch here in Castleton smells much the same way, which could be another reason I like this funny little house. But open my front door and the scent "hound" may knock you down; this wasn't the case at Mimmie's.

Ma remembers that Mimmie cut the bookcase in half during the 1940s, so that it would fit in the living room at the house where they lived at that time. The woodstove may be what happened to its other half, sacrificed for an apple pie and a pot of baked beans. In the 1970s, a couple of years before Mimmie moved from the old place to her trailer, my mother stripped the green paint away and revealed solid oak. My growing collection of novels replaced the paint cans on its four shelves.

It sits now in my living room, and holds my finest books. The top two shelves are devoted to Mark Twain, and should he need more space, the others will be gradually evicted. There is one shelf for a set of his complete works, and one shelf for miscellaneous copies of his books. Just some examples of my collection: I have The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from 1948, A Horse's Tale from 1907, A five volume set of his more popular works from 1917, A 2001 copy of A Murder, a Mystery and A Marriage, and two versions of his two volume set autobiography from 1925. I have six copies of various editions of Life on the Mississippi and four copies of Huck Finn. I've never formally studied Mark Twain. His books were not assigned in high school, and I never took a college class that included his work either. Regardless, you might say I'm enamored with the subject.

The bottom shelf houses The International Cyclopaedia (1892); the third shelf contains various hardcover books, including Lincoln by Gore Vidal, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, some Georgette Heyer novels that were gifts from Aunt Jean and have been worthy of a place in the oak bookcase since it became mine in high school, several dictionaries, and books about Mark Twain written by different scholars.

From my later studies I know this handsome furniture is Federal-style. Sometimes I notice the still-rough end and I lament that Mimmie sawed this piece in two. Then I assess the size of the room and realize that it wouldn't fit anywhere if it was still intact.

One week into my goal of posting every day and I missed a day. Well, that will happen. I was thinking of writing, and so I have some pent up ideas.

The kitchen is getting there. The tiles are coming out great, and actually are kind of fun to install. Bob finished the wallpaper and border on the wall near the stove so we can cook. Still, there is complete chaos in the room. We are doing half the room at a time, which is the only way home improvement projects can be managed in a house this small.

We had to call it a day on the early side yesterday, since we had tickets to see Mary Black. What a voice! I agree with the reviewer, except I don't have even a tiny criticism. It was a relaxing way to end the weekend, and it was good to be forced to stop working for a while.

We saw the concert at the Egg. Bob is a member and we had front row seats! The centerpiece of Albany's skyline is Governor Nelson E. Rockefeller Empire State Plaza, and the Egg is one of GNARESP's (what an acronym) many interesting features. It's hard to go to the Egg, even when captivated by Irish folk and contemporary music, and not have a thought of Rockefeller. His vision, his wealth, his power, his lasting impact on New York. The circumventing of the State constitution. The multi-campus State university. The construction of Empire Plaza was controversial during his time. The tragic displacement, the huge expense. When I walk around the plaza I feel as if I have transported to some utopian novel.

Now that the crows have been chased away, they are going after the pigeons. Sigh. Oh horrors, wouldn't want those darn birds to soil the shoes of sports fans.

Taking a break from stripping the wallpaper in the kitchen, but I'd better get back to it. I don't want to live with disruption. I have an idea that will have to keep. So, more later.

I finished the taxes, what a relief. As it turns out, itemizing was worth it.

Today in the Times Union, there was a letter to the editor about the crow problem in Albany. I've been following the story for a several weeks. (Unfortunately the other columns, stories and letters are no longer accessible for free.) It seems some people have complained about the large number of crows gathering in their neighborhoods. So those responsible for such things have been using "fireworks, laser, and alarming sounds" to chase them away, which is much better than an alternative, recreational shoots, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

A couple of months ago, I was on campus in the evening during intercession, and all was quiet except for the crows. There were a lot of them in the trees near the education building. Yeah, it was kind of reminiscent of The Birds, but that is more a testament to Alfred Hitchcock's skill in etching his movies into our memories than an indictment of the crows that were gathered there. Poor maligned birds!

Today's story made me remember last weekend, when my parents were telling me about a raven at the farm who was at risk of becoming a hawk's dinner. My mother calls the ravens John Henry, and considers them her friends. She watched as this John Henry did some fancy flying to avoid the hawk. She was rooting for him to fly under the eaves of the barn, but he didn't. She wasn't sure if he got away.

I always get so mad when I hear that people want to accommodate human sprawl by interfering with animals. It isn't that I don't feel bad when an alligator rips off someone's arm at a golf course, or a bear kills a baby. But we should remember that the people were invading the alligator's and bear's spaces. Wild animals are not the cute and cuddly images that Disney promotes. They are a part of nature and should be respected, simple as that. Why must we always insist on trying to transform nature, when the truth is we can never win?

Sort of related are the occasions when someone from a new housing development tries to get zoning passed to eliminate a nearby farm, because they believe the odors of chicken or cow manure (notice I'm not including horse because we all accept that it smells good) are offensive. So move!

There's a webring devoted to crows and ravens. And no post would be complete without mentioning Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. I wonder if this poem, and not Hitchcock, is responsible for human dislike of a bird? True, they scavenge, and are often seen near dead stuff. But eating up roadkill strikes me as useful, rather than evil. The circle of nature at work. It also helps out the highway crews, saving us tax money.

See, I managed to bring it back to my opening...

It is snowing again today. One day of hovering just above the freezing mark, a glimmer of spring (I am dreaming of using the terraced garden Bob created last year for rows of zucchini, although the seven deer I saw last week - in Castleton! - mean a fence must be erected first), and then the winter of 2003 continues.

We need a new kitchen floor. We’ve replaced it once since we moved in, and it is now that black and white checkerboard pattern so popular in the 80s. It’s very beat up, due to our poor installation job (sheet vinyl requires more than average do-it-yourselfer skills it seems) and Rudy’s puppyhood. I patched the places where Rudy tore big holes; only some came out good. Others lasted a while and are now fraying.

The original floor was old-fashioned grey tile. That was beat up too, and also dull. The sheet vinyl is still shiny, on those rare occasions when it is clean. I’ve learned that “easy to maintain” is a more important criteria than color and design when choosing floor covering.

Last year we decided to update the floor and ventured to the little store (no big boxes for us) where we bought the current Mannington, in search of the perfect vinyl. This time we’ll pay for installation, we resolved. We looked at every brand and every quality level. Three sets of laminate swatches graced the kitchen for several days each. We compared them to the counter top and table. We stepped on them with dirty shoes and splashed water on them. We dripped tomato sauce and soda. We considered them in natural and electric light. Rudy obliged us by sprawling across his favorites.

We made so many trips over the course of a couple of weeks that we started to develop a friendly relationship with the salesperson. Finally we made our decision, one of the more expensive Armstrongs. The salesperson stopped by one evening to measure and give us a definitive price. When she finished, her quote was so much higher than the rough estimate in the store that we both were shocked. One disdainful sniff (my memory may be embellishing a little) and she quickly left, making no effort to close the deal. I think she didn’t like dogs, didn’t like this crooked little house, and maybe even changed her mind about me. She started to act funny after I told her that I work at home most of the time. But I guess a pair of hounds howling in the yard and the obviously difficult install didn’t help. Was she expecting a houseplant-free track house?

Years ago we did some contract painting and wallpapering to make extra money. I remember we gave an overpriced estimate any time we didn’t want the job. That’s kind of a polite way of getting away. There is always the risk that it will backfire and the person will accept your fee, but then the price is generous so it (sort of) compensates.

If that is what she was doing, it almost backfired, because we wanted a new floor so much. It was way, way past the time to replace it. But cheapness prevailed, and we’ve lived with the worn black and white checkerboard for another year. It’s a great kitchen even with the battered floor, but not in the granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances sense of kitchens circa Y2K. It’s homey, in the 1940s birch cabinets, built-in pantries and ceramic tile walls way, with a pot of soup bubbling on the stove and a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. When the water main in front of our house snapped in December, the man who fixed it smiled as he walked through the kitchen. The house had belonged to his grandparents when he was a kid. “I had a lot of Sunday dinners in this room,” he remarked.

At the same time as our quest to fix the Castleton kitchen, the floors in Samsonville are a question. They are completely unfinished, a few area rugs over a concrete slab. We go ‘round and ‘round on what to do with them. Wood? Slate? Ceramic Tile? Carpet? Vinyl? Pergo? Which one where? What color? What can we do ourselves without too much aggravation? What will it cost to have someone else do it? And here I really don’t like shopping, become paralyzed by too many choices.

Enter a brand new product in this land of consumer wonders, Trafficmaster solid vinyl floor tile. Of course Bob, and not I, discovered it. It can go on top of concrete or sheet vinyl. It is self-stick, but commercial grade. The best part is there are only four patterns. Actually, the website lists 11 - but four are available at the store right now. (Yes, unfortunately it's from a big box.) Get it now before more come out and complicate things! He tested this one on the pristine cement floor of the bedroom closet in Samsonville last weekend. Eureka! Where can we put this color? And how about this one for the bathroom?

This weekend is the real challenge, when the Castleton kitchen becomes Verdestone. Bob observes that it most likely will take us longer to clean the floor than to lay the tiles.

Working on the taxes! Brave soul, I always do them myself. My systems are a lot better than they used to be - so it involves less paper "hunting," but the headache inducing part is all those extra forms that must be filled out - seeing daylight until - on no, I don't answer "no" to enough categories...must add Schedule C, and form 8829, and Schedule D...ah, luckily I don't need D-1. Then I never learn my lesson about itemizing deductions, go through all the hassle and it only equals the standard deduction anyway. Is it me or do taxes become more irritating as you age?

Welcome back Tuesday Too!

1.) Do you know about GeoURL? Check it out to find your neighbor's blog, or the web page of a restaurant near you. Find your house with a satellite photo map, and put your self in the database if you're so inclined.

Interesting site! Thanks for the link.

2.) How many times have you redesigned, or chosen a new template for your blog/journal, and are you content with your current look?

I've used the same standard template from Blogger since I started my online journal a year ago. I like purple!

When I got a new computer in January, I noticed the fonts looked really tiny on the new machine. I had always thought the point size was on the too small side, although I never did anything about it, but this was ridiculous. Anyway, I tweaked the sizes a little - now I think they look a tad too large on my old machine (the link for soap in particular) but in terms of being easy on the eyes, larger font sizes are usually better. I've added a graphic now and then to the box on the right side, but that's the extent of my personal influence on the page's design.

I can manage a bit of html, and make simple pages in Adobe PageMill, but my efforts here are about writing - not web design.

3.) From The New York Times February 11, 2003: "...The federal appeals court in St. Louis ruled yesterday that officials in Arkansas can force a prisoner on death row to take antipsychotic medication to make him sane enough to execute. Without the drugs, the prisoner, Charles Laverne Singleton, could not be put to death under a United States Supreme Court decision that prohibits the execution of the insane." The prisoner referred to was convicted of murder, and sentenced to death for in 1979. You've probably already heard about this, but what do you think/feel about it?

Ugh. I am not a supporter of the death penalty. And there is something even more creepy about making someone sane with medication simply so they can be legally executed. On the other hand, I must admit to having a hard time whipping up a bunch of sympathy for a murderer.

Here's something about animal abuse from the Albany Times Union. I skipped the original story - the headline was enough to upset me. I usually can't read anything on this subject at all, but I couldn't resist this column. I'm glad the penalties were more severe than usual, but it still isn't nearly enough.

This kind of thing gets lots of professors worked up, at least according to the Chronicle of Higher Education. Although I really don't like the idea that students sign up for a class solely to get off easily, or that someone is taking advantage of students by selling them this kind of information, I'm not bothered by rating services. I say so what? I expect a lot of work, and at the same time, I am happy to give students good grades who complete that work. I don't try to hide that. I believe all students have the potential to be "A" students, and should have the opportunity to resubmit work that is poor. I also believe "B" is a perfectly fine grade. Also, I take feedback and evaluations very seriously, and try to collect such data myself.

The Samsonville house is log, and log houses have gaps that must be caulked to keep out drafts and vermin. We haven't been here much when the temperature is below zero, because the Castleton house cannot be left unattended when it is that cold, so I really haven't minded the draftiness. But vermin - namely big ants that chew the wood and leave piles of sawdust everywhere - I can do without. So this weekend I caulked in the bathroom and the bedroom, while Bob worked on finishing the closet. Small progress, but progress nonetheless.

I'm in Samsonville, after not being here for several weekends in a row. I think it was the longest stretch we've had of not coming here since we've had this house. The pool is taking a beating. I hope the cover holds up under the weight of the ice and snow, although there is less snow on the ground here than in the Capital District.

Happy One Year Anniversary to Gully Brook Press!

Spring break is next week. This means the on campus class doesn't meet (after being cancelled last week due to snow), but the online class chugs along as usual. When I attended training classes to learn how to teach over the Internet, we were advised not to go on hiatus, since some students attend campuses that do not have the same schedule, and also because students usually appreciate being able to focus on the course while their other classes are not in session. Also, the nature of the delivery method means students can access it from anywhere, whether it is the beach at Daytona, their parents' livingroom, or a Kinko's somewhere. This is my ninth semester of online teaching, and it has never been an issue before, so I figure that the trainer was correct in that advice. Then comes this semester, where a handful of students are really, really pissed. Maybe because it has been a long winter?

We are studying the philosophy of education in both sections right now. It has never been my favorite subject, because it involves some pretty dense lecturing to get the material across. However, this year I am using group exercises in class, and the online groups' assignments are to come up with discussion questions based on the themes of the class. (The on campus groups make presentations at the end of the semester.) Because of student feedback from last semester, I have been putting a lot of effort into the online group activity. The philosophy of education group came up with interesting questions that focused on preferences regarding personal teaching philosophies.

I was thinking about their questions, about how non-authortarian student-centered methods sound so appealing, but how a lot of the time authortarian teacher-centered methods wind up winning out. I really struggle with this. I much prefer, when teaching in the classroom, the formal organization of rows with me at the desk or lectern. Oh, I make an effort to walk around a bit, but mostly in the front of the class. I'm not a big status hog, but for some reason I've never liked the sitting in a circle approach, not now, not when I was a student. It is a trivial example, but it illustrates what happens much of the time, the lecture, or as we say, "chalk and talk." Me getting a sore throat and them filling up notebooks. I guess I'm not great at facilitating discussion, although when my evaluations come back that isn't what they say. Students think we discuss more in class than in many of their other classes, which really shows the in general emphasis on lecturing.

On the other hand, although I control the organization, the online class seems much more student-centered, perhaps because of the type of student who signs up, and also because of the delivery method. The discussion in online learning is greatly enhanced, in spite of losing the body language aspect. Everyone contributes, which most definitely does not happen in the classroom. Students are much more reluctant to speak up in class. I know I always was, even if I had something good to say. Lots of students simply are not glib, and a few dominate.

Interesting, the most student-centered activity in both classes - the group - is favored by most students in the classroom, and hated by many students in the electronic section. This is probably because the on campus students are more social, and it is a nice break from teacher-centeredness for them. Also because the preference is for independent, self-directed learning among the online cohort, and a bit because of the difficulty of "meeting" using the electronic delivery method.

Saturday will be the one year anniversary of this website and ejournal.

It has been an interesting year. I get occasional emails from folks who stumble here. The majority are genealogy inquiries. Among the non-genealogical, the one that stands out was from Officer David Lim, because of my story about Sirius.

There are so many electronic journals on the Internet, and more now than a year ago. It is hard to make generalizations about something so huge. In fact, that's about all one can say with certainty. But why should that prevent me from elaborating?

I’ve exceeded my expectations, in terms of maintaining the online journal. When paper journaling, I’ve always had gaps of weeks or months where I put it aside and didn’t write anything. That hasn’t happened here. But I do think, for the next year, I will make an effort to write almost every day, rather than once per week, which was my original goal. I update the remainder of my Gully Brook Press website, namely the newsletter and virtual museum, every other month, and so far that seems to be working. Originally I had planned on once per month, but I couldn't manage it. I think the March-April 2003 focus will be on historic preservation.

My ideas about electronic journaling have evolved, but some of my early impressions contained a bit of truth, too. There is an aspect that I noted early on, this is just another forum of ignorance, the kind of thing that makes me turn off the radio and television, that leads to flames on discussion boards, the sort of reasoning that I struggle to get students not to embrace. There are too many psuedo-journalism rants and not enough well-crafted writing. Everyone’s a commentator. I am reminded of a line of Kathleen Turner’s in “Peggy Sue Got Married;” she was under the stars with the rebel from high school, and he was showing off, trying to shock her, spouting crappy poetry. Her “yuck” is very elaborate, and then she advises him about his future career: “try to write something beautiful.”

I am struck by the anger. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, as I have noticed it for about the past decade or more in other aspects of life too, there’s plenty on NPR and Fox News. Whether the media is influencing the culture or vice versa, I don’t know. But there are too many hateful lyrics in songs, too much sarcastic dialogue on television sit-coms, too much shouting in cable news. Sure, it’s all part of our rights, and it’s good to express thoughts and have dialogue. There is something exciting about communication, and how it has changed, and at the same time remained the same. (See yesterday's entry.) Personally, though, I am sick of loud, ignorant people on the so-called left and right. To me, this isn’t art, or even news.

Certainly there are way too many angry drivers on the road; this became more apparent in my quest to get a license. So I gave up. I think I’m just not mad enough to drive. Sometimes I click randomly at weblogs.com; I like the recently updated list because it isn’t sensitive to popularity. I find interesting things this way, often a lot more interesting than the usual suspects. But I find anger too. Do people only feel inspired when they are upset about something? Are they just spoiled? Or is being happy out of fashion?

A few days ago I was listening to the NPR station. Local commentator Paul Elisha was so angry I had to stop and take note, instead of tuning it out or turning it off, as I usually do when my private thoughts are more interesting than the speaker. Sparked by a pro-life rally in Washington, he argued in an editorial even more irrational than what’s now commonplace that abortion opponents are responsible for - well, just about every negative policy and belief in society you can name. One that comes to mind that made no sense at all was environmental destruction. I was speechless; too bad I can’t say the same for Mr. Elisha. At that moment, I resolved to never make a donation to the station again. We’ve never given huge sums but we do listen and enjoy some of the programming. We have contributed here and there during fund drives. So another place will benefit instead. My favorite charity - the Mohawk and Hudson River Humane Society - is more worthy anyway.

Part of the "shouting" problem may be the whole millennium idea; that people become obsessed with doomsday logic when centuries change - Y2K being even more scary. And there may be a tinge of the fear of death; the majority cannot imagine that times before, or after their own lives mattered as much. It is an unthinkable concept, that life goes on - do we matter?

Back to the Internet diaries, the whole idea of an A-list surprised me. That isn’t something I predicted. Again, I don’t know why, because why should the electronic world be immune to petty cliques and mob mentality? It’s only another social grouping, albeit using modern tools. Sometimes I amuse myself by thinking of the whole A-list concept, that I suppose it is payback time in a way. Seems to me that there are a lot of ejournalists who are or were geeks or nerds or whatever label is appropriate. Former dot-commers who now have a lot of time on their hands. Some consider themselves writers (which I mistakenly assumed would be the majority when I started) but many do not.

I think 90% of nerds probably were wishing to be included with the popular kids in high school, if only they had better clothes, cooler parents, a car and maybe tweezed eyebrows and a few less zits. They really weren’t above all that, most were as shallow as the jocks, they just had better grades. So now they are empowered by a keyboard, and well, it could be that aging has been kind (if not there’s always Photoshop). I'm not exempting myself from the nerd label by the way, although the truth is I've always been closer to that vast group that occupies the unremarkable middle, in spite of my being fairly studious. And not once have I wished to join a clique.

I'm still not sure about self-censoring, and how much is a good idea. The public nature of ejournaling makes that question even more complicated. I'm also not certain if the time it will take me to write here frequently would be better spent writing short stories, query letters and working on a book. As long as I remain productive, I have always thought journal writing is good practice, keeps the words flowing, and encourages more writing. So it will be important for me to keep track of whether that is true.

Another surprise, and my final thought on the year (at least for now), is that I believe I received more feedback when I sent essays via email to a group I called “test readers.” But using that method there were no anonymous visitors from Google. I dug out a bound journal that I bought at Borders & Books last year and have started to do a bit of writing in that, too. I guess some things lend themselves to paper.

Oh! My sister, maker of Annie McSpirit soap, has many talents. She sells some of the folk art she makes on ebay. Lucindy is one of her more ambitious pieces (I think the link won't work after the auction ends on March 6).

Here I am reading a book of letters written by a Civil War soldier in 1863-65, fast forward to 2003 and this link, Lt. Smash, also written by a soldier. Wow. Sometimes the Internet still amazes me!

I finished The Blind Assassin a few days ago. Margaret Atwood's books are a little strange, but she is such a good writer. Also versatile. She may be my favorite contemporary author of fiction? Changing genres, I am now reading A War to Petrify the Heart, which is a collection of Civil War letters written by Richard Van Wyck, a soldier from Dutchess County, New York. I am up to just after the Battle of Gettysburg. Next up is the Delaney sisters' Having Our Say.

This is clever. (Thanks for the link, L.) There is a simple reason it works, but it is more fun not to know.

The proposal is ready to be mailed. I can't identify how I feel, but it's neither optimistic nor pessimistic. I've been working on this for so long I guess I think wait and see, afraid to go too much in either direction.

We saw The Hours yesterday. I'm not sure whether I liked it. I guess I did, but maybe I'm not sure how much I liked it? It was a complex movie. The acting was great. The story was very interesting. Also sad, and I don't know whether it really added up. It was kind of Hollywood. What I mean is, as you watch it, you just know everyone will gush over it, it had all the necessary ingredients. American Beauty was like that too. Quality movies, but definitely not at all indie. Something that bothered me: it is a story that focused so much on women - and to me it was obvious it was written by a man. I'm not saying that a man can't write about women and do a good job, but there seemed to be something missing from this story. I was left thinking, this won the Pulitzer? Maybe the book was a lot better? Why not make something actually written by Virginia Woolf into a movie instead? Kind of ironic.

Part of my mood afterwards was influenced by going to a newish bar, Mad River, for a late lunch. I'd tried to go there three times before, each time unsuccessfully. The first time, for lunch, it was 11 am, they didn't have their act together and were very rude, so I ate across the street. The second time, about dinner time, there had just been a fender bender in front of the building, one of the involved parties was shouting the f-word and a variety of other obscenities, and it seemed like a good idea to go elsewhere. The third time, later at night, it was so packed there was no getting inside. Yesterday, we went to a matinee, then to Mad River. It wasn't crowded, several men were at the bar, and a couple of tables in the back were occupied.

Although completely renovated before it opened, the place had a look that said it would be better served by it being late at night and dark; a place where people do shots, smoke packs of cigarettes, talk in loud voices, and throw up in the bathroom. At one of the tables, there were three women and a little boy maybe 7 or 8 years old. At first I figured they were having lunch and a quick drink, but as our meal progressed, it became apparent that they were starting the night of drinking. They were very made up, hair permed and dyed, wearing evening clothes, drinking multiple rounds of Cosmopolitans. One had a shiner. I couldn't estimate ages - maybe around my age, maybe younger but showing wear. The snippets of conversation I could overhear surrounded vacations, partying, and passing out. I wondered if they had been home, or if this was merely a continuation of the night before. The only food consumed was one order of cheese sticks that they shared. I used the bathroom after one of the three women and was greeted by a thick cloud of perfume. The bathroom decor said recent, but it was already beat up, the door wouldn't lock, and there were scuff marks all over the door, I assume from using one foot to hold it shut.

They were still there drinking when we left. The depressing scene reminded me of my ex-friend, alcoholic D., in the days when she made the rounds. And the image of that poor boy, squirming in his chair, was with me all night. The kid had obviously spent many a night in bars.

Sophie is recovered, and I can put away the benedryl. It was caused by Mountain Fresh scent Tide! After the new washing machine was installed, we washed her futon, also several blankets. She's always either in the living room, on the couch wrapped in a blanket, or in the kitchen laying on her futon. Not a real active dog! I prefer Arm & Hammer laundry soap, but Bob likes Tide - so we usually have a jug of each around. Generally though we have the unscented varieties, since I am somewhat sensitive to perfumes and dyes. But not this time. So I re-washed everything in unscented Arm & Hammer. She still has some large scabby patches from where she scratched herself raw.

For only the second time in memory, classes were cancelled today (boo hoo). And it is looking like no Tuesday Too again. So lots of things about animals today. (Also, I am now on the mend after feeling really miserable from running a 101 degree temperature. Oh, the new washer arrived pre-latest-snow.)

Since last evening, Sophie is having a terrible allergic reaction. More than her usual summer rashes, she is covered with dime-sized hives, and she's miserable. She can't sit still, and she spends her time crying/howling. She's on benedryl, and I guess it is helping, but not enough. I have no idea what is causing it, last time she had a reaction this bad it was to a bee sting - and bees, or really all bugs, are just a dim memory right now. Poor special needs hound. If she isn't better by tomorrow, I guess she'll have to go to the vet.

There is now so much snow that my fence looks like it is 12" high. I'll have to watch Rudy, because if we get an icy coating on what this last storm left, he'll be able to hop over it easily.

And in other news, Edna puked right on the bed yesterday.

Finally, I saw something in yesterday's paper that really, really irritated me. It was in both the New York Times and the Albany Times Union. Someone at the NYC anti-war protest on Saturday punched a police horse in the face. I can't think of a thing that would excuse such behavior. I hope the guilty party is held accountable as if assaulting a human police officer, because I doubt the infraction rises to the level of the Buster Law (and even if it did, that is never enough punishment anyway). In fact, generally I oppose the death penalty, but for this particular offense, I'll have to make an exception. (And in case you're wondering, I'm almost serious.)

I definitely have a cold, complete with sinus headache.

But on the bright side - I received a letter in the mail, from the potential publisher, saying yes, send the proposal! Yea! And so quickly!

Sya has a fun link called Castle Arcana.

I think I am getting a cold. Ugh. One really great thing about teaching exclusively online is that there is no exposure to the hot bed of diseases running rampant on campus. This is the second semester I have been on campus - and just once per week! - and this will be my second cold. It's no wonder, the students are sneezing and coughing all over the place. And probably handing me contaminated papers. Before last semester's, I can't remember the last cold I had. I have not quite given up hope that the symptoms are merely a reaction to the brutal cold temperatures and dryness of the air, but that possibility is dimming. I am trying to overdose on zinc and Vitamin C. I also have a pot of turkey soup brewing. And a cup of ginger-lemon tea.

Myrtle McSpirit
SCHENECTADY Myrtle McSpirit, 98, died Saturday, February 8, 2003 at Kingsway Arms Nursing Center where she had resided since 1975. A former resident of Albany, she had worked as a seamstress and as a factory worker in a bottling plant. She had no known surviving relatives. A service will be held 11 a.m. Wednesday, February 12, 2003 at Zwack & Sons, 633 Central Ave., Albany. Interment will follow in Albany Rural Cemetery, Menands. (Copied from the Albany Times Union, February 11, 2003)

Yesterday a new Chronicle of Higher Education came in the mail, and the cover story about disposing of old computers caught my eye. I thought it would make a good basis for a journal entry. But Myrtle McSpirit got in the way. I couldn't wait for Blogger; I whipped out my bound green volume (where I cheat on the ejournal) to scribble my thoughts on paper. Sometimes typing isn't quite the same.

I'd seen Myrtle's obituary in the paper yesterday, and I decided I would look up that name in Mimmie's genealogy notes. I vaguely remembered that Mimmie's brother had moved to Albany, and that Myrtle was his wife's name. I thought, after I confirm this, I'll send the obituary to my mother. And isn't it interesting, if Mimmie was living she would be 98, so she was the same age as her half-brother's wife.

As I re-read the death notice, it struck me: how sad. Not that 98 years is anything but a good long life, but the part about no living relatives, and the fact that the obituary was so brief, with no mention of Myrtle's mother and father, husband or daughter. Or even her birth date. Others on the obituary page have lengthy columns, mentions of churches attended, club memberships, hobbies, colleges degrees, names of beloved pets. And then there's Myrtle's: no relatives, she worked as a seamstress and as a factory worker in a bottling plant, and she spent the past 28 years in a nursing home.

I remembered the trip to St. Ann's Cemetery, sparked by finding Mimmie's genealogy notebook and by my sister's trip to Ireland, and the markerless graves. I had a good thought for my query, which must have arrived at the publisher by now. There are too many books and page-long obituaries on the Marilyn Monroes and Eleanor Roosevelts (though I mean no disrespect to either), and too few on the Mimmies and Myrtles of this world. I don't know a lot more than the obituary, but here is what I found in Mimmie's notes: Myrtle's husband was Lawrence McSpirit, who drowned in the Hudson River and is buried in Albany. Their daughter's name was also Myrtle.

This link, called Dirt Roads, is too charming to pass up. (Thanks, Ma, for the forward.)

Here is a link to The Technology Revolution: An Interview With Frank Newman from Vision. (Thanks to David for the pointer; it is a good read.) More than a decade ago, either when I was in the master's degree program or shortly after graduation, I did some contract typing work. The university's chancellor knew someone who was doing research on higher education and he interviewed several noted scholars. I transcribed interviews, and as I recall one was with Frank Newman. I am thinking I have it on a diskette or the hard-drive of a relic somewhere. Or maybe I just kept a print-out. Yet another benefit of being a packrat (but does that outweigh having to walk around boxes?). I may try to locate it, although I can't use or share it, since it really isn't mine, but just for my own information. I remember it was very, very interesting.

Two websites that are great links for online learning:

Only A Teacher (from PBS)

Unchained Memories: Readings from the Slave Narratives (from HBO)

I think the washing machine died. I suspected it was on its way out for a while. But then it has been living on borrowed time for eight years. That's the last time it broke, when Bob was in graduate school (do I always have to measure things in student intervals? Another option for marking time is by death date. I'll think, "Howie [my pre-Rudy dog, a precious, grumpy, super-smart beagle/schnauzer] was alive. So it must have been eight years ago").

My father came up and fixed it then. I'm not sure if it is really broken this time, or if it is a belt or something minor like that. The problem is the same as in 1995, it won't spin. That time, though, it shut off after it tried to switch to spin. This time it runs for the entire cycle, it just isn't spinning. We probably will have to get a new one, since it is 16 years old and what, today, lasts even that long? I am wondering how we, or rather the delivery people, will get a new machine into the house. There are high snowbanks, a thick snow and ice blanket covering steps and the yard, and a gate to the fence that is probably frozen shut.

I wrung out the wet clothes by hand. Not a pleasant or easy task, and my hands got very cold. That was yesterday. Today, I ran another load through, a light one, just so I could watch and see exactly what happens. Sounds OK, water fills and drains, but it doesn't spin. Wrung out yet another washer full. Thought of Cherry Hill, where we had a special exhibit a couple of years ago on laundry that fascinated me and the visitors. Doing laundry was a big drudgery for women in the past. (Despite the technological improvements, and men who lend a hand, sometimes I think it still is.) Even families who weren't wealthy often had help with laundry because it was such a chore. This provided a much-needed and legitimate job for many poor and/or immigrant women. And it was something of a social time, everyone did their washing and ironing on the same two days every week - and visited outside as they dumped water and completed the back-breaking task. The invention of the washing machine was certainly labor saving - but it also meant laundry remained in the home, rather than being a service performed by a business.

I thought of Mimmie, who at times took in laundry, and years later, still had a wringer washer at the old house. It was a big round white tub, with legs on casters. She dragged it across the room to hook it up to the faucet of her kitchen sink. In my mind's eye I see her, feeding one piece of clothing at at time through the wringer. It generally took several passes before it was good enough to be hung on the line. Each piece came out flat as a pancake.

I sure wished I had that wringer today.

I just spent too many hours tinkering with my computers so that I'd have close to the same level of functionality as before networking. I am at about 90% right now. There is always one more thing to buy, the computer habit sure isn't cheap. Connect the fax, check. Test it. Hide the wire somewhere. Upgrade Adobe Photoshop, check. Undo some big, scary problems with my online course, check. Forget sharing that particular file, local copies will be fine.

Next time I do something this drastic I will wait until summer; intercession is not long enough. Technical support for my out-of-warranty printer cost $25, and after paying I was sent to hold never-never land. The musak was so irritating I eventually hung up and figured out a solution myself. Either all the people who work there were in junior high when my printer was manufactured, or this is standard company policy. Collect the fee, transfer the call, snap on the musak, bye-bye.

I should be working on my classes - grading essays, preparing lectures, entering data in my evaluation spreadsheets. Or working on the Mimmie book, or making an effort to clean in preparation for Ma, Daddy and Hobo visiting on Sunday. Or even reading some of the wonderful books I have in progress (two are a book of Civil War letters courtesy of Black Dome Press, and The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood.) I have a a few things taped - the kinds of programs Bob doesn't enjoy (and he mostly controls the TV, since he has a much stronger affection for it than I do), but instead I am snaking cables around furniture and hiding them behind plants. If ever I needed a reminder, this is it. I don't miss those days of computer support at all. Although these tasks are a handy way to procrastinate, I suppose. UPS just brought the enhanced keyboard, time to add a new item to the list.

Bob is headed to Florida to visit his folks. I am remembering with some discomfort the last time he flew somewhere without me; it was September 9, 2001 and he went to Baltimore.

Maybe because of the Columbia and the focus of this week's Tuesday Too, I am remembering that I was awakened on 9/11 by the telephone. My mother called to tell me "terrorists have attacked New York City." I switched on the television and sat on the coffee table right in front of it, only inches away, transfixed. I can't remember going downstairs to get coffee. Or even to pee. I sat there for hours, maybe it was all day. Swirling around somewhere in my mind was that Bob was flying home. Several hours passed before he could call to let me know that he was OK, and would manage to get home at some (unknown) point in some (unknown) way. Several hours seemed like several days. Even with that happy news my horror was not diminished. Still isn't.

Although it is I who has always had dogs, insists on having dogs, and I got our two dogs at the pound, only Edna, our cat, favors me. Both dogs that we have now prefer Bob. Rudy's sentiment is not overwhelming, though; he can be happy with just me around. Sophie, on the other hand, worships Bob. She is sitting on the couch right now, her eyes glued to the window, waiting for him to come home. She waits for him every day, starting at about 6 p.m. I wonder if she will sit there, patiently staring at the empty spot where his car is usually parked, until he returns on Monday. There is nothing sadder than a sad hound dog.

Today's Chronicle of Higher Education has a cover story about the University at Albany, SUNY. It is by Sara Hebel and is entitled, "If You Build It, They Will Come: How SUNY-Albany shocked the research world and reaped a bonanza worth $850-million (and counting)." It has to do with Sematech and nanoscience research. The Chronicle is a subscription site, and this story is not part of their free content. I am clueless about nanoscience, and I'm far from an advocate of growth, which I fear will lead to sprawl, and I consider that a major risk of economic boom. However, seeing the cover story focus on the University and Albany made me feel good about being associated with both places.

I've spent a lot of years in higher education, more than 10 as an administrator, about three as an instructor, 22 as an on and off student. 100% in the public sector, I might add. If I collected a dollar for every time someone sniffed about his or her pedigree (and by implication, my lack of), I could afford the tuition at - well, you can fill in the blank. X = prestigious private well-endowed institution of higher learning. Those places where the graduates and faculty are entitled. And yes, cut from a finer cloth. Certainly smarter than the daughters and sons of Joe and Mary Six-Pack, first-generation students at those provincial, remedial, non-global places, you know - Local CC or State U.

So yeah, it felt good to see the splash. That's my alma mater (so what if it isn't my specialty?). That's where I work (so what if it isn't my department?). Finally, an article about something besides budget cuts and party school status. Validation, at last. You see, all those wrinkled noses, raised eyebrows, and rigid pinkies have never seemed anything but dull. In the article, a Stanford University professor is quoted: "for a mediocre university to start thinking of doing research for industry is probably not the wisest idea." If saying such a thing to a reporter demonstrates brains, I guess tact is an attribute of stupid people. The article explains that SUNY officials shrug off the criticism as "sour grapes."

Well, I don't like to gloat, but yeah. This is real sweet.

Tuesday Too or Not?

Maybe it's because I don't have a Gary Larson calendar this year, or maybe it's because... Anyway, here are some things to ponder on. Oddly, perhaps ironically sya wrote about how/why people remember where they were, and what they were doing on historically momentous occasions such as the Challenger explosion on lift off in 1986, only days before the explosion of the shuttle on reentry. If you haven't already done so, tell us what you were doing, and how you found out what was happening? If you've already written about your reactions to the accident, point to that post.

See below.

Edna decided to venture outside for the first time in months. She gingerly placed her paws, one at a time, on top of the snow. Since it has been warmer for the past few days, Rudy and Sophie sometimes break through, but Edna is much lighter. She stood there, looked all around for about two minutes, then came back inside.

Bob asked, "did she see her shadow?"

We'll see.

Happy Groundhog Day (yesterday, I guess, though for owls it was today).

Also Sophie's "made up" birthday, she is 4.

Oh, the groundhog saw its shadow. No surprise here.

On the news today are constant reports of the fate of the space shuttle Columbia. I've never been a big space enthusiast, which is another of those things that makes me kind of provincial, I guess. I prefer to keep both feet firmly planted on Earth. But it's hard to look at those seven proud, smiling faces - all around my age - and not feel sadness and empathy, about both the loss of life, and the end of someone's dream. Maybe it was not my dream, but it was a grand dream, nonetheless, one that involved a lot of commitment and hard work. May they rest in peace.

Recently there has been much coverage of the Challenger tragedy because the anniversary just passed. I was thinking about what I was doing that day, and I remembered that I was working at the NYS Office for Aging. I was a clerk in the Budget Services office. Did I imagine that in 17 years I would be teaching at a college, and my PhD would be nearly three years old? Well, I guess it was a dream, but at that time it seemed almost unattainable. There was no television in the office, but we listened to the coverage on a colleague's radio. I remember how awful it seemed, a teacher waving goodbye minutes before the explosion. I thought of the many school children who were watching, how that horrific image would forever be etched into those kids' brains.

I was not quite 8 years old when we (allegedly, if you believe that Fox show from last year) landed on the moon. Space was a big focus in school. Now I know that was because of Sputnik, but I think another reason is that it did capture the imagination. I drew pictures of the event over and over again, cartoon images of Neil Armstrong jumping around near the lunar module. I used my sketch books, or sometimes those reusable palettes - they were made of a waxy black cardboard, with a filmy sheet attached, and you wrote with a red plastic stick, kind of like a pencil without lead. When you were done, you could erase it by ripping the film up. I can't remember what they were called, and I don't know if they are still sold.

But even considering the numerous pictures I drew, I wasn't as entranced with the space hoopla as many kids, either because even then I was provincial, or because I preferred English, history, art, and math over science (although I hasten to add that I much preferred science over gym).

I tried to find a link to put here, but couldn't locate anything suitable. So I'll do my own summary. I noticed some mention in a Reuter's story on AOL today that some telemarketing companies and a trade group filed suit to stop the FCC from setting up a Do Not Call registry. This figures. We've had one in New York for a while, and I can't say enough good things about it - I notice a huge decrease in the number of annoying phone calls I receive. What a pleasure! So I hope the FCC wins.

This reminded me of an article I read recently in The Independent, about a bill pending in the State Assembly that was sparked by the success of the Do Not Call registry. They are considering establishing Do Not Mail/Email Registries. I tried to find a link to that story also, but once again, came up short. Anyway, the article stated that paper junk mail leads to about 500,000 tons of solid waste annually! My paper recycling bins are collected every two weeks, and they are always overflowing. Sure, some part are newspapers, catalogues that I want to receive, computer printer paper, envelopes from monthly bills or personal mail, and food packaging boxboard, but the vast majority is irritating, unwanted junk mail, plain and simple. Credit card offers, solicitations from all sorts of companies, mail order company catalogues that I will never use, you name it. And I notice Spam is growing in leaps and bounds in my three email accounts - every time I open my mail, there they are: improve your credit, get a second mortgage, XXX-HOT HOT HOT Click here, buy virus checking utilities, the convoluted scheme to help out someone in Nigeria, verify your account by sending in your credit card number and password, and usually a few to howzer-wildcard that are gibberish. So here's hoping the Assembly creates that Registry, and saves us time, space, and some trees.

I ordered an enhanced keyboard for the Netvista. The Aptiva has one, but I forgot to upgrade when I ordered the new machine, and we didn't realize how much we'd miss it. It's important, when the phone rings for "business" to be able to hit the Mute button on the CD easily. The LAN is working out just great. It has really cut down on the hassle of upgrading. Transferring files to the network is a wonderful solution, plus the old faithful Aptiva is right downstairs if I need something. The stairs are giving me a workout - but that is actually another plus. Still, there are things to tweak here and there, which is a tiny pain. The Aptiva is recognizing my HP 1170C printer, now that it is on the network, as 800-something; it still works, but some paper is manual feed. Hit print, run upstairs to feed paper! The Netvista tells me there is no Internet mail server when I am in Lotus Notes. Hit "save mail as draft," run downstairs to send!

There was a time when I did a lot of computer support at work; I was never a big techie, but as an early adopter and enthusiast, I developed some skills, and so later adopters and those with fewer skills became dependent on me when the folks from the help desk were slow in responding, or when they had been dismissed with "it's a user problem" or "we don't support that software" as the official techie response. But that was mostly back in the days of DOS, Windows 3.1, maybe early Windows 95. Email was catching on. Networks were not so pedestrian. A benefit was that I liked the control of choosing the brand and installing options and configuring my own machine.

I am not inclined to spend my time that way any longer. I don't miss the days of crawling under dusty desks in my skirt to find the cable, or dragging monitors and laser printers around on my task chair. No more questions directed at me that have "hit F7" as the answer. Now the only thing in my chair is my rear end, and although work attire is most commonly sweat pants and a tee shirt, you won't see me on my hands and knees.

Now I just want it to work! I've been lucky - or made good choices - maybe because no approval from above was required, this was my nickel! But I haven't had a bit of trouble with my computers or printers, and I hope that continues. I can't remember the last time I had so much as a paper jam! That little tool pack I received at some computer marketing event or another waits to be called into service again. Maybe in a few years, when I'll need a small screwdriver to fix my eyeglasses? Not sure, because in spite of umpteen hours staring at a screen, and although the clock is ticking, I haven't reached the point where I need to wear eyeglasses yet.

I have started my research into POD. The demands of the semester mean that I can't spend quite as much time as I'd like, but I am learning something, I guess. There are so many vendors, and it is all a little confusing. The Writer magazine did an OK job of summarizing in the current issue. Anyway, because my query has been sent, as usual excitement interferes with my sleep, and so I gave in and burned the midnight oil. I reviewed my proposal once again, and wrote a nice little bit on One Egg Cake for the first chapter. :-)

First day of on campus class...and it is still brutally cold!

Tuesday Too

1.) Are you comfortable spending time alone? Do you actually look forward to that time? Why, or why not?

Yes - I am very comfortable spending time alone - I work from home most of the time, and I am always alone then. I do look forward to it. I like it, and when there are times with no solitude - I miss it. Of course, I have two dogs and a cat for company, and that suits me fine. Why? I need the personal space, the peace and quiet, and time to think. Sometimes I suspect I am "too comfortable," and so I force myself to get out and interact.

2.)What's the next best thing to your best thing?

My computers!

3.) What do wish you you'd done last week/last month that you didn't do? If you're someone who accomplishes everything you set out to do, please let us in on the secret.

Send Christmas cards. Not doing it was a first, but I was pressed for time and way too tired.

The answer came today...in a big box on the porch, delivered by the mailman. It reminded me of something my sister told me years ago, about a guy she knew who took many times to pass his driver's road test. At that time they didn't tell you at the end of the test what the results were, instead they made you wait and receive the notice in the mail. He said, when the envelope comes and it's fat, you failed. If it is thin, that means you passed.

I knew that big box meant at long last an answer, and I knew the answer was "no," but for a moment after I opened it I thought maybe I was wrong. On top of the box were several books. Books! I didn't see my returned proposal right away. So I read the enclosed letter, savoring each word until I realized that my first impression had been correct, just like the thick motor vehicles envelope. It was no, but to soften the blow, there were three wonderful complimentary books for me, as well as a recommendation for another publisher to try.

So I went right over to the computer - the network is up and running and my old machine is right there in the living room - and whipped up a query letter. On the way to Samsonville, I mailed it. I'd figured, during this long wait for rejection, that when it came that was it. I was going to stop querying and go Print on Demand, risk a bit of money up front, sacrifice some prestige, have total control, but maybe more profit. So the recommendation was appreciated, but time's a-wastin'. I guess I will see what the query yields - but at the same time, start researching POD. You see, on the one hand prestige is hard to sacrifice...but on the other, control is very attractive.

I go in spells, of thinking about my book project very little, to having it always in mind. Working on it (of course), or sending a query or proposal makes me think of it often, almost obsessively. The semester is starting to rev up, but for the moment my focus is still elsewhere. (And, an aside, soon the computers will be setup and networked!)

Recipes over the years



As a newlywed in 1926, Mimmie started writing recipes in a spiral-bound notebook. On the cover is taped an illustration of a kitchen by Maxwell Mays that looks much like Mimmie's at the old house. At some point she labeled this notebook "Old Book." The stained pages inside are written in fountain pen and long ago started to crumble. At one place, they were sewn by Mimmie to the binding, and the thread remains intact.



About 1970, my sister painted a "mod" recipe file box for Mimmie. Inside, I found several packets of index cards, some in Mimmie's handwriting, and some in my cousin's, carefully sorted and rubber banded together.

Update on the Wynkoop House: this story from the Kingston Freeman, and this one from Preservation Magazine.

Still very, very cold! Hot chocolate and tea weather!

Tuesday Too

1.)Where in the world does your lap go, when you stand up?

I asked my dog, Sophie, since she's always laying across it when I am sitting on the couch. She said, "I don't know, but I think it is very rude to disappear so suddenly."


2.) "Life's is mysterious, don't take it serious." Are you easily riled by things you could have laughed off? Why does,or doesn't that happen to you?

Sometimes yes, but usually I try to not sweat the small stuff.


3.) On the other hand, some things are serious. What argument/situation can't you walk away from?

Yes, this is more true. Serious things do bother me. I try to work on this too, because it is important to know how to deal with stress. Sometimes walking away isn't the best choice. This is on my mind today, and the question reminds me of the situation with my friend. But I don't write about specifics like that here, and I am not going to start.

Tidying up, getting organized. Getting ready for the new semester. Took down the Christmas tree, don't laugh! Yeah, it was kind of crisp but no worse than past years. The Samsonville tree will come down next weekend. Both were fresh cut so it seemed a shame to not squeeze every minute out before disposing of them. And, I got a new computer, new office chair, and two new computer desks. All must be in place so the computers can be networked on Friday. This project was long overdue.

Friday night the shower and kitchen sink pipes froze - I think it was something like 15 below and of course we forgot to keep the faucets dripping and closet doors open. The kitchen pipe burst, and once again we were treated to a flood and no water for a spell. All is repaired now.

Today we did something very, very hard, regarding being honest with a friend, about something that just might be none of our business. It seems appropriate, amidst the straightening up, to take care of unfinished business that has been bothering both of us for a long time, but that didn't make it easier. Now I feel relieved and sad at the same time.

I have finished updating the Gully Brook Press website; I posted a new Nileston News (the subject is plagiarism). I mined some tidbits on the theme from this ejournal from March - May; I believe this will be my new process for creating the newsletter. The virtual museum is focused on winter and Christmas Trees - better late than never!

A batch of blonde fudge (candy making is not easy, even though Mimmie made it seem like it was) is ready for shipping to Black Dome Press. I hope the staff isn't all into low carbohydrates or something!

Shhh! I'm writing, offline.

Here's Rudy rolling and sliding and rubbing his face in the snow...

Tuesday Too

1.) Scientists have predicted the earth will be swallowed up by the sun in 7.5 billion years. Will humans still be around then? Have they already gone to another planet? Did they incinerate themselves eons before the sun ever sucked on the straw? Write 2 paragraphs on the last days.

I'm fairly imaginative, but 7.5 billion years is beyond my imagination. So I have no clue.

The Sun was hot. It was hungry. It cast a beam around, trying to choose some refreshment. "How about Mars?," it thought. "Nah," the Sun eventually decided. "Green people are bitter." It continued to search. "Hmm...maybe that cute one instead?," it wondered, then it flickered, taken by surprise when the Dogstar pleaded for Pluto to be spared. "OK, Sirius," grumbled the Sun. It resumed flashing its beam, pausing occasionally to consider the alternatives. Its mouth watered. "Look at all those refined carbohydrates," it said. "Yes. I'll take Earth."

The Sun grabbed Earth with a blazing beam of light. Pluto and Sirius started to tremble. For a minute, flames shot all the way to heaven, then suddenly, the blaze died down to mere embers. The Sun spit the big rock out. Earth resumed its orbit. "What happened?," demanded Mars, who had been feeling very lucky. Earth shrugged. "I thought I was a goner for sure. Then all that snow in Gina's yard nearly extinguished the Sun!"

2.) What does the earth's tombstone say?

So, did you remember to bring flowers?

3.) Do something nice for mother earth today. What will you do?

Something that would also be nice for Ms. Kitchen. (Good thing there are no fruit flies in the winter.) I will stop procrastinating, and wade out to my recycle bin to dump the nearly overflowing pail of organics. I may have to take a shovel along.

It seems the Wynkoop House in Saugerties is now threatened; here is the story in the Kingston Daily Freeman. I sent a tip to Preservation Magazine again. I swear, if, like the Defreest-Church House, this house is demolished, I think I won't be able to bear it. (More posts on the Defreest-Church House appear on November 7, 8, 13, 16, 21).

Bob's (43rd) birthday was Sunday. We went to Villa Valenti for dinner, a wonderful, cozy Italian restaurant. They have homemade pasta and a great salad bar. Yum!

Tuesday Too

1.) According to a "New York Times" article, lawsuits against reality TV shows are on the rise.
What's your take on this new form of "entertainment"?

I have two reactions:

(1) I detest these programs, I can't stand the hype associated with them, I don't watch them, not even the first Survivor, I can't understand why anyone would watch, much less go on, any of them, the match-making, the stupid endurance contests, the disgusting eating stunts. And to top it off, I'm sure a lot of it is 100% contrived, too. The people who are involved in making these shows deserve a good swift kick in the pants.

(2) I detest the obsession with litigation. OK, if some jerk from a reality show tricks an innocent into doing something dangerous, fine, (maybe) suing is acceptable. But when a greedy pathetic fool willingly goes on one of these shows, then later claims that dangling in a harness from a bridge, or eating hot pepper and dog sh-t, or whatever stunt was required to win the 100K was harmful and so now some exhorbitant damages are deserved, it is ridiculous. Contestants on these programs deserve the Darwin Award (and a good swift kick in the pants).

2.) Are you inclined to reveal personal things about your self in your weblog that you might not be as forthcoming about with your friends/family? Why or why not?

No. True, all journaling is somewhat therapeutic, but that isn't really what I'm doing. For me this is a lubricant to encourage writing. Anyone can read the things I write. I am pretty much the same here as in person.

I have written some on this subject before, so here's a bit of that, mixed in with a few new thoughts. A long time ago I used my paper journal to vent, really vent, uncensored. Afterwards, I threw out some of the pages, thinking, I can't save this junk. I know there is a strong, perhaps dominant, school of thought that goes, don't censor yourself in your writing, and I understand where that is coming from, but once I achieved adulthood, I thought about the diary as a historical record, and I decided I wouldn't write too many things in my journal that I would mind someone reading. I have kept that structure in the years since, and it has worked out for me.

But the transfer of that little spiral bound book to the world of digits means, I think for me anyway, an additional layer of self-censoring. I have conflicting thoughts about whether this is good. No question inspiration and quality writing does come from strong feelings, and it is no fun to read bland, vanilla words. On the other hand, sometimes when I am surfing I read the journal entries of others and I think, wow, posting this stuff isn't the greatest idea. I don't agree with the thinking that such writing is healthy and creating a valuable dialogue in the online community. I believe fiction writing is better for making use of that sort of material. In my opinion there is a difference between tactlessness and creativity.

Finally, I am always cautious about what I write here about students. It wouldn't be fair to them to do otherwise.

3.) Is there something or someone you take for granted that you shouldn't? Maybe today is the day to change that. How would you go about it?

I try not to take things and people for granted, but on a day-to-day basis I think I could be more thankful. How to change? Some conscious effort needs to be made to consistently pause, and remember this.

Obviously, I haven't been doing much posting here lately. Chalk it up to the holidays, and for a while I was feeling kind of under the weather. I think I am on the mend now. I finally finished my students' grades for the semester, and since it is intercession, I am trying to take some time away from the computer. I am giving my back, hands and eyes a break.

I have a long and probably unrealistic to do list. I may make a batch of blonde fudge for Black Dome Press today. The goal is to pry an answer from them - any answer. If it is no, I am considering self-publishing, using someplace like iPublish. It will probably cost me a few hundred bucks, but I think it could sell enough copies to at least break even. I'll have to research this of course.

I am reading Charming Billy, by Alice McDermott. So far, it is a good read. There's nothing like a good book for burning the midnight oil.

Happy New Year 2003! Will the rest of this winter be as snowy as the first part, I wonder?

Tuesday Too? Two days late!

1.) What was the best moment/time for you in 2002?

1. January: Getting a positive letter about my Mimmie book from a publisher.
2. April: Receiving a copy of my education book in the mail.
3. August: Taking that first swim in the new pool.
4. December: Opening a Christmas gift, a 97-year-old copy of Harper's Weekly, about Mark Twain's 70th birthday (thanks Ma).

2.) Is there something significant that will be different for you in 2003? How come, or why not?

Well...how about get more exercise, learn skilled relaxation, not worry, eat right. Why? To be healthy. And continue to pursue publication. Why? To be happy.

3.) Some people really enjoy celebrating New Years. Do you? Do you have a ritual associated with the arrival of the new and passing of the old? What is it?

Not really. Some years we go to a party, some years we go to Albany's First Night, some years we go out to dinner, some years we stay home and watch Dick Clark on TV. When I was a kid, I always spent New Year's Eve with Mimmie, drinking tea and talking all night.

Joy to the World







Oh Christmas Tree

Already Tuesday Too?
What do you think about the US government giving money to family members of 9/11 victims?

Oh, jf, these are great questions but also hard questions. It is not easy to address 9/11. I have done some thinking about this aspect over the past few months, but as I am drowning in end-of-the-semester work, I don't have time to give this the attention it deserves.

1.) Is a firemen's life worth less than a stock broker?

No!

2.) What about family members of victims who died from circumstances not related to 9/11?

No!

3.) It is likely that 9/11 will not be the last terrorist attack. Should the same "compensation" be provided for future victims families?

I don't know the answer to this. I don't know about the whole idea of "compensation." How can we boil down someone's life to two inches in the newspaper's obituary section and a cost-benefit analysis? On the other hand, what is compassionate? What is fair, if anything about this can be called fair? What is realistic?

Instead of more posting, here's this from 2001 (written pre-ejournal):

It's Christmas time and I hunt for my cookie cutters. I have seventeen of them in a Toy Story plastic bucket that I got at the movies, full of popcorn. I remember buying two of them at the Great American supermarket when I was a college student and lived in Oneonta. Ten of them I acquired when I worked in New York City; they were a gift from my boss. But those ten are cheap, tinny imitations of the four which were Mimmie's. These four are old and sturdy and still perfectly symmetrical -- a heart, a star, a diamond and a crescent moon. These same shapes were traced as decoration on some of the pages in the Watson Hollow Inn cookbook. They were used to cut bread for tea sandwiches.

Actually, there are five which belonged to Mimmie, but the fifth isn't really a cookie cutter at all. It cuts a hole in the center of a larger circle; Mimmie used it to make donuts. It has a big wooden handle and doesn't match the timeless design of the other four. I use it to make wreath-shaped cookies.

At home, Mimmie made sugar cookies, and she used food-coloring tinted sugar as trim. In my mind's eye I see four little plastic bottles of food coloring with pointy tops. A slight squeeze, and a tiny drop of green, or blue, or red, or yellow would fall into the baggy of granulated sugar.

I don't have any food coloring, and these cookies are spice, not sugar, but I am using Mimmie's spice cookie recipe, along with those magic shapes that are taking a Christmas break from their promotional popcorn pail in the pantry.

In the aftermath of last weekend's flood, Bob decided that it was time to do a project he's thought about for years. So soon there will be a clothes closet in the bedroom. Until then, some of the contents of the bedroom are in the living room. We really maximize on the 900 square feet in this little house.

There was a smaller version of the flood on Saturday. Water was dripping through the foundation, this time caused not by the water pipe, but because it rained so much on Saturday that water was streaming down the street - and into the square hole in the asphalt of the sidewalk in front of our house, soaking through the new gravel, and forming a puddle near the furnace. So the village made an asphalt dam near the hole, which directs the water back down the street. I have a feeling there will be some major road work in the Spring.

The tree is up. It is a fresh cut scotch pine. We got it from the boy scouts. It isn't very big. I've decided my virtual museum will be about Christmas trees, but I have no idea when I will fit in getting it done. I have cookies to bake. But the priority is getting the grades done. This is the worst thing about teaching, or for that matter, being a student. I tried to rearrange the assignment schedule to lighten the pressure, but as usual, still there is a lot of end-of-semester work at the deadline.

I really want to make Mimmie's blonde fudge to send to Black Dome Press. It has been long enough to contact them again, I think. I have a few things planned for the break, too. There are writing ideas, and the research on online v. classroom learning.

But first, do those evaluations!!!!

Here's a photo instead of more posting:

\

One of Bob's many wreaths. Obviously not taken this year (seems like it has been snowing everyday - and there is a big hole in the asphalt almost in front of the door).

Since there is so much snow already and I live on the side of a hill, a bunch of kids have been sleigh riding (or "riding downhill" as we always called it) in between my house and the neighbor's for much of today. It's a great hill for sledding. Rudy barked (really howled, he throws his head back and really gets into it) at them on and off, but he doesn't have the stamina or desire to do it all day, the way Sophie did at the backhoe over the weekend. I watched them for a while, considering the idea of buying a cheap sled and giving it a try myself. We have lived here for more than 15 years and I have yet to take a winter ride down the hill.

In today's Ann Landers column, the subject was telling kids the truth about Santa, and "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" was reprinted. How magical it was to believe in Santa, to run downstairs on Christmas morning and see that he had been there. I faked believing for years after I knew the truth, because I was the youngest, and I didn't wanted to disappoint my family. They so enjoyed playing Santa. When I turned 40 last year, my sister told me that having a sister who was still in the 30s made her young, too, and I guess the Santa thing is the same idea. I remember a big cartoon-ish charcoal footprint drawn on the hearth of our fireplace, with some ashes scattered around it. And I recall asking for some toy and getting a harmonica instead. There was a note tucked inside. It said Santa knew it wasn't what I had requested, but he felt I might like learning to play the harmonica better. I did try to play it, although I never became very good. I still have that harmonica. I even have the box it came in. But I can't remember for which toy it substituted.

Tuesday Too

1.) Do you have the google toolbar?

You're right, it is cool, but no, I don't have it.

2.) You may be surprised when you test yourself for hidden bias at Tolerance.org

I visited the site - it is interesting. I don't have time right at the moment to take the test(s), but I will definitely try them. I do know that most people do have a certain amount of hidden bias. Even those who struggle with the idea and are very reflective and open minded; this is something we all should think about, especially an educator like me. Teaching the online section of my class, I always find it fascinating to observe how this impacts bias in the class, because although some names indicate gender, and others may reveal race or ethnicity, many other things (age, appearance, social status, disabilities) can be hinted at but are not obvious and even gender and race/ethnicity cannot necessarily be assumed. The whole "on the Internet, no one knows you're a dog" thing.

3.) What's floating your boat today?

Not sure what this questions means? I guess I am ignorant of this cliche, not that I haven't heard it before...Last day of class! My feet hurt! It's quite cold, though warmer than yesterday, luckily. Do any of those statements apply?

I like snow, and I don't mind it being cold, but this level of cold makes it hard to remember what warm feels like. On the other hand, in the summer when it is boiling it's difficult to imagine this temperature.

On the bright side, we have water again. Saturday morning, a puddle started to appear on the utility room floor. Bob said he thought, "d-mn dog(s) must have peed on the floor." In about 30 seconds it was apparent the canines were not at fault. He shut off the water in our house, but that served no purpose. So he ran upstairs and threw me out of bed (it is an understatement to say that I am not a morning person) so I could join him in being frantic.

The furnace and hot water heater happen to be at the lowest point of the floor, but the washer, dryer, refrigerator and freezer are in there too (along with a lot of other stuff like the bin for paper to be recycled, the hamper, and, since this is a closet-less house, racks of clothing). We moved as much as we could to the kitchen, yielding a mud mess on the floor. We used almost every towel in an effort at mopping, and building a fabric dike around the furnace, but the flow was about the strength of a garden hose. It was coming in from a hole in the concrete step in the storage area under our front porch. After a call to the village, the mayor and then the superintendent arrived. They shut off the main water supply from the village pipes to our house and the flood stopped, but that meant no sinks, no shower, no toilet.

As long as there is a heat source, I can tolerate having no electricity, and there have been a few times when this has happened. In terms of water, we went without the bathroom for a week while we were renovating, but we did have water in the kitchen sink. In Samsonville, there is a stream near the house and so buckets can be retrieved for emergencies, but in Castleton, this isn't an option. I should have drawn water in the tub or at least a few pails worth, but in the frenzy to save the utility room there wasn't time. There is a big difference in having a little water v. having not a drop of water. (Meaning not a drop coming out of the faucet; there was plenty of water on the floor.)

The hope was that the culprit would be the pipe between our house and the village water pipe, which is under the sidewalk in front of the porch. There was the potential that the leak could be in the part of the pipe that runs through the concrete foundation, and we'd have to have it jack hammered inside. In that case, all sorts of things that are stored under the porch would have to be moved. Saturday evening, the asphalt was cut to prepare for digging with a backhoe on Sunday morning. Sunday morning while this was taking place, Sophie watched from the window near the couch and barked continuously. I thought she would drop from exhaustion, but instead she just drove the rest of us (me, Bob, Rudy, Edna) crazy for over 4 hours, and today she is catching up on her sleep. The equipment was loud so luckily her woofing didn't seem to have any impact on the work outside.

By noon we had the good news that the break was in the pipe and not in the foundation, and in no time our water was reconnected. Now the only signs of the problem are missing asphalt, an orange cone on the spot, and a bunch of symbols in fluorescent spray paint on the road, indicating the presence of gas lines and other underground utilities. Oh, and quite a few things are cluttering the kitchen, and are not back in their respective places in the utility room. So that was the weekend.

I much prefer historical place names to ones that commemorate those who lived more recently. Or maybe a person doesn't seem significant until 50 years have past, kind of like the value of an antique or collectible.

There was some commentary and letters in the papers recently about the naming of the new veteran's cemetery in Stillwater to honor former Congressman Jerry Solomon. I guess it shouldn't be a controversy, as he was a big supporter of veteran's rights. On the other hand, it does seem a little inappropriate to me. I'm not trying to dishonor the dead; I recognize the importance of the rituals we associate with life events; I am an advocate for traditional memorials. In fact, I like cemeteries. Gettysburg should stay Gettysburg and I'm not sure what was wrong with calling this one Saratoga. Certainly it is a more honorable thing to be known for than horse racing.

Perhaps the fact that I was the recipient of a very nasty response letter from Mr. Solomon when I wrote to him colors my perspective. On the other hand, in years since I have come to appreciate any response at all, for when I more recently wrote in support of Amtrak, I heard nothing back from Senators Schumer and Clinton. Jerry's staff may have been mean, but they sure weren't lax.

This makes me think of some place names in Albany. Of course, prominently, there's Rockefeller's name; Empire State Plaza, with its modern utopian design, and its controversial beginnings, seems, somehow, a fitting tribute to his vision. Then there's the Pepsi, although I stubbornly still call it the Knick. A can of soda or Washington Irving's wit. Now what's a more appropriate moniker for an arena?

In the Town of Olive they have built a pricey and beautiful new swimming pool. There is talk, and maybe it is already a done deal, of naming it for a late councilperson. He was active in the community, and I suppose it is a nice honor. Maybe he liked swimming, I'm not sure. I worked at this pool's predecessor as a teenager and I don't remember him coming there. This naming strikes me as inappropriate, too.

I believe the funds for this pool came from the NYC Watershed Agreement. My sister sent me this link from the Ulster County Archives to a list of people who were paid for lands when the Ashokan Reservoir was built. It got me thinking about those folks. If someone is to be honored, why not Lillie Jamieson? I don't know anything about this person, except that she was displaced. But that displacement makes her more worthy than any politician.

Better yet, honor one of the lost places. Ashton is such a pretty name. But it wasn't part of Olive township and so I guess we must leave the commemorating - or neglecting - to the Town of Hurley. So how about Bishop's Falls? There's a beautiful place that was among the first to be sacrificed. Erased from history, resurrected as a swimming pool, built with NYC's money. Let's have the courage to tell the story.

Today's snow is the kind that sparkles. It is dark outside and still snowing a little but I can see the ground shimmer. Earlier I watched the dogs from the screen door. They were in the yard, dashing around, Rudy diving and rolling, Sophie charging him and barking. She has a cute fleece coat to wear to protect that hairless hotdog body from the elements. Rudy is an artic dog, and needs no such protection.

What is it about snow after Thanksgiving that makes me dream of Christmas? Lots of years I complain that it just doesn't feel like Christmas, but I can tell already that this is going to be one of those magic years, the kind I remember from childhood, warm rosy memories of shimmering golden white. I want to put on festive music, bake Mimmie's cookies, and go get a tree from the scouts. Last weekend in Samsonville, Bob put up lights on the front of the house, and I hung up the nativity scene I made a few years ago (photo below).

But the end of the semester is upon me and I have lots of evaluating to do. I am almost through the last of the essays, but reading term papers and journals, and calculating discussions, group projects and final grades are lurking just around the corner. I guess the sugar plums will have to wait.