Category Archives: Life

I’m off!

Hobgoblin and I are leaving tomorrow to go visit my family in the Rochester, NY, area and will be gone until sometime next weekend.  I agree with what my sister said on the subject: “I’m staying until Friday or Saturday, depending on how sane I feel.”  Just because my family can drive me insane sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t love them, right?  The fun part of the trip will be waiting breathlessly by the phone to hear if my sister-in-law has had her baby yet (and to find out the gender, as she and my brother aren’t telling).  The uncertain part will be meeting my sister’s new boyfriend — he’s probably great, but who knows?  The fun-in-a-rebellious-kind-of-way part will be refusing to go to the Christmas Eve service (rebellion is easy when you come from the right kind of family).  The not-so-fun part will be the snow storm we will inevitably get caught in.  I just hope it isn’t an out-and-out blizzard, but we’ll see.

Enjoy Christmas, if that’s your thing; otherwise, have a great week!

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Notes on Nothing

  • I’m in the midst of finals grading right now.  I had my last class yesterday, give my last exam tomorrow, and have countless papers to read.  I’ve calculated final grades for 11 of my 70 students.  59 to go!
  • I created a page on the blog for my TBR list (up at the top of the site), which includes both unread books I own and books I wish I owned.  Both lists are rather lengthy.
  • The most recent addition to the list is Wilkie Collins’s Armadale, which many people have recommended highly, and which looks like a very long, wonderfully entertaining read — perfect for winter.
  • I’m about to finish Joan Didion’s collection of essays The White Album, which I have enjoyed very much (more on that soon), and am in the middle of Jenny Diski’s Skating to Antarctica.  I’m very excited about reading her new novel Apology for the Woman Writing, which is about a woman living during Montaigne’s time who becomes obsessed with his writing.  I love Diski and love Montaigne, so surely I’ll love this book, right?
  • I’m taking a break from my triathlon training because I’m injured again.  Sigh.  I’ve had hamstring/hip pain for a while, and was hoping it would go away, but it has refused to.  So I’m seeing a doctor about it and am hoping it will heal up quickly.  At least the weather outside is awful and isn’t tempting me to head outdoors.
  • Once I’m riding again, though, it will be extra fun because I have a new bike!  I was at the bike shop today to get it fit properly, and it looks nice.  It’s white — which isn’t my first choice of color, but we got a great deal on it and part of the deal was taking whatever color they offered.  Actually a white bike would be fine, if it somehow cleaned itself.  As it is, I’ll have to be better about keeping it clean so road grit won’t accumulate and look awful, and I do need to be better about keeping my bike clean, so it’s just as well.  It’s a Cannondale and has the name on the side in red, and it has a black saddle, black wheels, and black handlebar tape.  Nice color scheme, right?

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And now for something completely different

It doesn’t have to be all books and bikes all the time around here, does it?  I saw the “Homemaking, A-Z” meme over at Emily’s (who found it here) and thought it looked like fun.

Emily says that when it comes to homemaking, she plays a very important role; she’s the person everyone can compare themselves to in order to make themselves feel better.  She says everyone is cleaner and tidier than she is.  She says:

If newspapers, magazines, and books don’t congregate around your living room chairs, sprawling themselves in every direction; if your feet don’t stick to your kitchen floor; if your vacuum cleaner sees the light of day at least once a week; if things don’t fall on your head when you open cupboard doors; if you can actually see a dining room table, rather than what looks like piles of mail and junk levitating on its own; well, then you need to come to my house and start patting yourself on the back for being so tidy and clean.

Well, I’m guessing that if Emily came over to my house, she would start patting herself on the back for being so tidy and clean.  I’ve seen her house, but she hasn’t seen mine, so I’m in a position to know.  Here goes:

A is for Aprons – yes/no? If yes, what’s your favourite? Aprons?  Those are things you wear when you cook, right?  Don’t know anything about those.

B is for Baking – favourite thing to bake? I don’t cook and don’t own any aprons, but I have baked a loaf or two of bread in my life and have made batches of cookies now and then.  That was all years ago though.  If I had to do something in the kitchen, I’d bake bread — the smell!

C is for Clothesline – do you have one? No, no clothesline, but we do have a drying rack, which is usually covered in cycling shorts, since those aren’t supposed to go in the dryer.  I have work pants on there now and then too.

D is for Donuts – have you ever made them? No, never made donuts.

E is for Every Day – one homemaking task you do every day. I’m not sure I have one.  I do the dishes almost every day, but I’ll skip them if I can get away with it (if there aren’t enough dishes to fill the dishwasher — thank God for dishwashers, by the way!).  I never, ever make the bed.

F is for Freezer – do you have a separate deep freeze? No …

G is for Garbage Disposal Unit – do you have one? I don’t have one — well, unless I can say that Hobgoblin is my garbage disposal unit — he takes the garbage out every week.

H is for Handbook – what’s your favourite homemaking resource? Homemaking resource?  Don’t use those.

I is for Ironing – love or hate it? Hate it.  In fact, I make a point of not wearing clothes that need to be ironed.  I used to iron clothes now and then, but these days, if it needs ironing, I don’t wear it.

J is for Junk Drawer – yes/no? If yes, where is it? No, although it sounds like a very good idea.  All our drawers are already full though.

K is for Kitchen – colour and decorating scheme? The same as when we bought the place, and it will probably stay that way as long as we live here — light grayish blue counters, light blue on the bottom of the walls and white on top.

L is for Love – what’s your favourite part of homemaking? I don’t have one! Or no, getting it done so I don’t have to think about it for another …  long time.

M is for Mop – do you have one? Yes, because otherwise our kitchen and bathroom floors would get so disgusting even I couldn’t stand it.

N is for Nylons – machine or hand wash? Neither.  I don’t wear them.

O is for Oven – do you use a window or open the oven door to check? Open the door — usually to check is my bread is toasted or not, because that’s about all I put in the oven ever.

P is for Pizza – what do you put on yours? I tend to stick to boring old cheese and pepperoni, but I’ll have anything on a pizza except for mushrooms and olives.  Hobgoblin makes wonderful pizzas, by the way.

Q is for quiet – what do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment? Check my email and favorite websites, read.

R is for Recipe Card Box – yes/no? If yes, what does it look like? I used to have one when I was much younger, but the only recipe I remember having in there was a recipe for chocolate chip cookies (which were very good).

S is Style of House – what style is your house? A cape — living room, kitchen, bathroom and master bedroom downstairs (this is only because we couldn’t fit our queen-size bed up the narrow staircase), and two studies upstairs.  Hobgoblin and I can talk back and forth between the two upstairs rooms but still have some solitude and quiet.

T is for Tablecloths – do you use them? No.  Don’t really get the point.

U is for Under The Kitchen Sink – organised or toxic wasteland? It’s not organized, but I don’t think it’s a toxic wasteland either.  Just a jumble of stuff.

V is for Vacuum – how many times a week? I’m with Emily on this one; as she said, “times a week?”  Um … I vacuum when it desperately needs it or shortly before we have visitors over. Most often it’s shortly before we have visitors over.

W is for Wash – how many loads of washing do you do each week? I’m in charge of the laundry and do about 3-4 loads every weekend.  Often half of these loads will be workout gear.

X’s – Do you keep a daily list of things to do that you cross off? I keep a list of things to do for work but not for home (I keep the work list in an email, which I edit and then send back and forth to myself continuously).  Hobgoblin and I don’t write grocery lists either, which is a bad habit, as it means we are always forgetting something or other.

Y is for Yard – who does what? Hobgoblin takes care of the yard and I pitch in and help with things like raking leaves and shoveling snow.  He mows the yard unless he’s just broken a rib (which happens all too often …).  He’s very happy that our yard is only about a tenth of an acre.

Zzzz’s – what’s the last homemaking task you do before bed in the evening? Nothing, really, unless brushing my teeth counts.

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Notes for a Friday

  • I hope everybody who celebrates Thanksgiving had a great day!  And I hope everyone who doesn’t had a great day too!  Hobgoblin and I stayed home, as we usually do, and celebrated Thanksgiving all on our own, with a little help from Muttboy, who really, really likes the Cornish game hens Hobgoblin cooked up (as did we).  We finished our meal with a brownie sundae, which may not be traditional Thanksgiving food, but was delicious anyway.  I just had another one, in fact.  Even all the riding, running, and swimming I’ve been doing hasn’t made up for all the calories I’ve been taking in …
  • Speaking of riding, running, and swimming, my training has been going well, in spite of lingering hamstring/hip area soreness.  I took a week entirely off from training a couple weeks ago, mostly because that’s what you’re supposed to do in the off season, but also to see if my aches and pains would go away.  They didn’t, but they also seem to be getting better, in spite of the fact that I’ve been training regularly for two weeks now.  I just have to wait it out, I suppose.
  • But in spite of the soreness, I’ve been having fun doing all the training.  I’m especially pleased with my running — I’m not running far, only about 3.25 miles right now, but my foot injury hasn’t returned, and I’m able to build up slowly and it all feels fine.  Yay!  My sister completed a marathon a couple weeks ago, and my brother has run one too, and I really want to follow in their footsteps.
  • This afternoon I went on a group ride with people from my cycling club, followed by a party at the bike shop.  The party was fine (although I’m not a rider who can talk about bikes for hours on end), and the group ride was good too, except that if it’s a large, mixed group (mixed in terms of experience level), I tend to spend too much time worrying about people who have trouble riding in a straight line or who like to ride in the middle of the road.  Why do people like to ride in the middle of the road?
  • I’m about to finish a novel about the 18C poet William Cowper, The Winner of Sorrow by Brian Lynch.  It’s fascinating and is teaching me way more than I ever knew about Cowper.  I think I’d like to read more of his poetry at some point.  More on that later.
  • When I’ve finished the Cowper book, I’m going to pick up my next book club book (not the mystery club this time around), Diane Ackerman’s The Zookeeper’s Wife. According to the publisher, the book is “a true story in which the keepers of the Warsaw zoo saved hundreds of people from Nazi hands.”  I’m also going to be starting William Gaddis’s The Recognitions as part of Litlove’s reading group.  The group website is here; it’s not too late to join if this sounds interesting!  (The reading begins December 1st.)
  • I also found out what my next mystery group book will be: Arthur Conan Doyle’s  “A Study in Scarlet” and “The Sign of the Four.”  I read some Sherlock Holmes mysteries when I was a kid, but not many, and I don’t remember any of them, so I’m going to assume I’ve never read these.  I’m looking forward to reading some early writing in the genre.
  • Okay, now I’m off to finish my Cowper book …

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Filed under Books, Cycling, Fiction, Life, Nonfiction, Reading

The blogger meet-up

Yesterday I spent the day with an international group of bloggers, and what fun it was! Okay, most of us were from the U.S., and the majority of us were from Connecticut, but we did have one person from Germany, one from Indiana, and one from Pennsylvania.

It was Charlotte, Cam, Emily, Becky, Marcy, Hobgoblin, and I, and we met at the Hungarian Pastry Shop, right across the street from the magnificent St. John the Divine cathedral.  This was my first meeting with Charlotte and Cam; I’d seen pictures of Charlotte on her blog, so I recognized her right away when I saw her with the group, but none of us knew what Cam looked like, so we had to keep an eye out for someone who looked like she was keeping an eye out for us.  We all felt a little relieved when we found each other and the group was complete.

The pastry shop was cute, cozy, and crowded, and it looked like we might have to stand, but we managed to find some tables to put together and got down to getting to know each other a bit.  I’ve had a few experiences of meeting bloggers in person now, but it continues to feel just a bit strange — in a good, fun way of course.  It takes a little time to adjust the mental image I have of a person with the reality and to settle into a new way of communicating — in real time, with real conversation, instead of the slow pace of blog posting and commenting.  And it’s a little odd trying to keep straight what fellow bloggers know and don’t know about me, what I’ve posted about and what I haven’t, and it’s even odder when I’m with such a mixed group — one person who knows me mainly in real life but gets some information about me from the blog (Hobgoblin); a few people with whom I interact more often online than off, but with whom I do have a face-to-face friendship (Becky, Emily, and Marcy); and two people who up until that moment I had known exclusively through blogging but now had a chance to talk with in real life.  What a mix of histories and relationships!  It’s mildly disorienting (in a good way!).

So, after some time in the pastry shop, we headed off to The Strand (in a cab that made me car sick, which I guess is about right, given what NYC traffic is like and the way cabbies drive), one of the best bookshops around.  Here we lost ourselves in books for an hour or two.  I headed straight for the literary nonfiction section and spent the entire time checking out literary biographies and essay collections.  I loved browsing through the books, but I wasn’t in a mood to buy many — oddly enough; it does happen sometimes though — and found only one I couldn’t resist, Janet Malcolm’s book about Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas, Two Lives.

Afterward, we all assembled out on the street and shared our finds, and then got lunch, enjoying mimosas and macaroni and cheese while listening to a lot of Depeche Mode (Hobgoblin was able to tell us the year each and every song was released, having a good memory that way).

At that point we were feeling ready for an afternoon nap, and some of us decided to head home and take one, while everybody else hopped on the subway for one final trip, this time to The Mysterious Bookshop.  This is a marvelous store, with a mix of new and used books, and lots of books signed by their authors.  Again I didn’t find anything I couldn’t live without, but I happily looked through the shelves, thinking about all the Ian Rankin, Elizabeth George, Ruth Rendell, Henning Mankell, etc., etc. books I have to look forward to reading.

And then we went our separate ways, tired but happy, having had a great time and collected a lot of books. It’s marvelous to meet fellow book bloggers — you may be very different people but you automatically have a lot in common because of the hobby you share — and I highly recommend it!

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Another fun distraction

So as you can see if you check out my sidebar, I’m playing around with a brand new Twitter account. I have no idea how it will go and if I will like it or not, but it’s tempted me for long enough I have to give it a try. So if you are another Twitter user, let me know!

Oh, I’m using my real name for this Twitter experiment. You may or may not know that my name isn’t really Dorothy; if you’re curious about my real name and don’t know if already, just click on the Twitter link and find out! I’m beginning to wonder if I should drop the pseudonym at some point, but I’m not sure I want to blog as myself; I kind of like blogging as Dorothy …

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A library celebration

In 2009 my local library will have been in existence for 100 years, and I’ve found myself on the committee that is planning a year’s worth of celebrations of the event.  How I got on this committee is a convoluted story involving Hobgoblin and cycling and people knowing people and things randomly coming up in conversation, but, anyway, we had our first meeting today.  It was interesting.  It was my first governmental meeting of any sort, and the chair took care to explain to me before we began that we had to follow Freedom of Information (FOI) Act rules and Robert’s Rules of Order and that only those who had been voted on and confirmed by the library’s Board of Directors could sit at the special table (which included me — I felt like such a grown-up).  Everybody else who was going to be on the committee but who hadn’t yet been confirmed had to sit in the chairs set aside for the public.  Also we aren’t allowed to have discussions on email because that would mean the public doesn’t have access to them, which violates FOI.  Oh, and we had to say the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of the meeting.

The meeting itself was devoted mainly to coming up with ideas of ways to celebrate.  The chair thought we might come up with 100 ways to match the 100 years of the library’s existence; many of these 100 things could be small things or things the library already does, and then some could be larger.  The chair had already listed a few things like signing up 100 new patrons of the library, signing up 100 new newsletter subscribers, have a kids read-a-thon, publishing a monthly article on library history, making posters about the library’s history, giving tours of the library, and picking a book for the entire town to read.  We came up with some more ideas like having a writing contest and soliciting ideas from the local schools on how the library can celebrate and finding a way to integrate things like National Poetry Month.  Now we’re supposed to brainstorm even more ideas.

So — any ideas out there on how a town can celebrate the centennial of its library?  Do you remember events your library has had, of any sort, that might be fun?  Any suggestions of a good book for a mass town reading?

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Ramblings

I’ve never before lived in a town that I could walk to from home and have the fun of meeting people I know as I do it.  I’ve lived in cities where I knew hardly anyone in the neighborhood, in rural areas where I couldn’t get anywhere by walking, in towns where I never got to know anybody, and in towns where there wasn’t anywhere in particular to walk to.  But now I can take a stroll around town, run errands, and see friends and acquaintances.  It’s fun.

So today I walked to the library to drop off my latest audiobook (Laura Lippman’s What the Dead Know) and picked up a new one (P.J. Wodehouse’s Hot Water).  While I was there, I saw that my library was holding a booksale, a little one with just a few tables of mystery novels.  Of course I had to buy something — to support my local library, of course!  I found Barbara Vine’s No Night is Too Long for 50 cents, and chatted with the woman in charge of book sales, whom I know because I volunteer to work at them now and then.  She asked me if I would help out in December, and I said I would.

And then, because my town was having some kind of Halloween street festival, which was news to me, and which hadn’t yet started but was about to, I stopped at the tent where the local Democrats were setting up their table to see if I could get a sign for my friend who is running for State Senate.  They didn’t have any on them at the moment, but promised me I could come back later for one.  They also told me about an election night party I can go to if I want.  This is not the sort of thing I usually go to, but … maybe.  Why not?

And then I was off to the drug store where the people there know my name (which may say as much about the number of medications I take as anything else) and then to one of the town’s used bookstores to see if they have a copy of the latest mystery book club pick.  We’re reading Ian Rankin’s novel The Falls.  I’ve never read Rankin, so I’m excited to read someone new whom I’ve heard very good things about.  The shop didn’t have a copy of the book, but they will order one for me.

Then I was off to buy coffee at a local shop that roasts its own beans; the shop’s owner is a big fan of Muttboy and makes sure to send him greetings every time I’m in there.

This was a nice walk, a good way to break up my day full of grading and preparing for class, but it was made even nicer when I found a box full of books waiting for me at home.  Stefanie sent me my grand prize winnings from the contest she held over at her blog a couple weeks ago.  And is this ever a grand prize!  I got a signed copy of Don DeLillo’s Falling Man, a book on translation by Gregory Rabassa (If This be Treason), a collection of short biographical essays by Javier Marias (Written Lives — exactly my kind of thing!), a book about “Dewey, “The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World” (I wonder if my library book-sale organizing friend knows about this book?), and a CD of Adrienne Rich reading her poems.  Very cool, isn’t it?  I’m looking forward to reading/listening to all of these.

And tomorrow I have a big literary day planned … but more on that later.

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Low expectations

Do I watch the debate tonight or not??  Usually I don’t watch and catch up the next day instead, getting what information I need from the newspaper and NPR.  But I might not be able to drag myself away from this Palin/Biden debate tonight, although I’m afraid at the same time it will make me furious and leave me feeling slightly ill.  This whole election has left me feeling slightly ill … I’m desperately afraid Sarah Palin is going to “win” the debate because she will show she’s not a complete idiot.  What a way to win a debate … the magic of low expectations.  It reminds me of those horrible debates between George Bush and Al Gore where Gore was clearly so much smarter and more capable than Bush, but he still couldn’t manage to win the debate because all Bush had to do was not be an idiot (barely) and people seemed to love it.

Anyway, I’ve got low expectations working in my favor when it comes to reading.  I’m in the middle of John Darnton’s Black and White and Dead All Over, which is the latest pick for my mystery book club, and before picking it up I’d heard from a couple book club members that … well, that it’s not so good.  I was dreading reading it.  I’d heard that it’s got a lot of characters that are hard to keep track of, something I’m not particularly good at, and that it’s badly-written with lots of stupid insider jokes.

Now that I’ve read almost 150 pages of the book, I can see that all the criticisms are true, but I expected it to be so horribly awful that I’m pleasant surprised I’m not absolutely hating it.  I’m not hating it at all, actually; I’m just not taking it very seriously and not trying very hard to keep all those characters straight, and it’s going along fine.  If I’d had high hopes for the book, I’d be badly disappointed, but as it is, I’m just grateful it’s not God-awful.

But I do hope people don’t take that attitude toward Palin tonight … even if she’s not God-awful at the debate that still doesn’t mean she should be Vice President.

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The Aging Meme

Becky tagged me for this meme, created by Zoesmom.  Sometimes I ignore tags (sorry!), but this time I think I’ll be a good sport, so here goes.

At a certain age women should stop listening to what everybody else is telling them to do.

At a certain age men should stop listening to what everybody else is telling them to do.  (I ignore gender differences whenever I can!).

When I was a kid I thought I would be a teacher.

Now that I am older I am glad I’m a teacher (but I’m glad for different reasons than I would have expected as a kid.  As a kid I would have talked about wanting to help people.  Nowadays I talk about loving my summers off.  I was a better person as a kid).

You know you are too old to try something new when you’re in your grave.

You know you are too young to give up when you’re still alive.

When I was in high school I listened to the music of Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, Beck.

Nowadays I find I spend much more time listening to audiobooks and NPR than listening to music.

On my last birthday I had to go to school to begin a brand new semester.

On my next birthday I want to take the day off (although I probably won’t — sigh) .

The best birthday present I ever got was my engagement ring.

The first time I felt grown up was when I taught my own class (terrifying!).

The last time I felt like a kid was … I don’t remember.  I was kind of glad to grow up and leave childhood behind.

When I read for the first time it changed my life. (And did it ever!)

Last year was pretty okay.  Bad things happened, good things happened … it was kind of normal.  It won’t stand out as a memorable year, I don’t think.

Next year I hope something really cool and wonderful and unexpected will happen.

If you’d like to do this meme, please, help yourself!

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Craziness!

This triathlon training … it’s fun but crazy.  For one thing, while I’ve been a regular weather forecast checker for a while now, I’ve become utterly obsessive about it.  If the weather this weekend doesn’t clear up, I won’t be able to get my rides in, and I really need to ride! Would it be too uncomfortable to ride in the rain when it’s 65 degrees out?  Am I that dedicated??  Probably not …

And another thing — this training means I’m out at all hours taking swim lessons.  I’m swimming with a masters group right now and the lessons are from 8:30 to 9:30 pm, which doesn’t seem that late, except that I like to be in bed by 9:00 or so.  And when I go to a late evening class, I usually can’t sleep afterwards because I’ve built up so much energy and adrenaline. It would be nice if the class tired me out and made me ready to fall asleep, but instead it perks me up and makes me feel wide awake.

And then I have days like today, where I got to school at 9:30 or so, stayed until 7:00 when my last class ends, drove home and stayed for about 15 minutes before heading out again to the pool.  And tomorrow I hope to wake up early enough to run before heading out to school again … all this means  not enough time for reading, I’m afraid.  I need somebody to agree to pay my salary so I can quit my job and train and read full-time.  Any takers?

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After the accident

Hobgoblin is doing well after his accident, although he’s in pain. I think it’s often true that the day after an accident is worse than the day of the accident itself. The initial shock is over, the body has had time to figure out what has happened and to protest, and new aches and pains and bruises keep appearing. Hobgoblin keeps saying he feels like he’s been hit by a truck and then laughing because he has, in fact, been hit by a truck. We spent today running accident-related errands, sad about the accident, but happy that we both had an air-tight excuse to get out of irritating meetings at school.

It’s odd how most days are completely normal and not much surprising happens, and then all the sudden one day turns out to be entirely different than what you expected. Yesterday and today both were like that, not at all what I thought they would be. I was settling down into an afternoon of work on my courses for the fall yesterday when I got a phone call from an unknown woman who said Hobgoblin had been hit by a car, she’d called 911, and an ambulance was on the way. It was one of those moments when I realized my life could from now on be completely and utterly different — when I asked if Hobgoblin was okay, the woman didn’t really answer me, and so the only thing I could do was imagine the worst. Her mention of a backboard and neck brace and the fact that they were trying to keep him still and that they had stopped traffic all along the road so there was no point in trying to drive out there just made it worse.

It turned out, of course, that the worst hadn’t happened, but for a good hour or so, I had no idea.

This accident has been hard on Hobgoblin and, to a much lesser extent, hard on me, but both of us agree that, short of something awful like permanent paralysis, it’s better to be the one hit than the one who did the hitting. We both feel a little bad for the driver. When we visited the police department today to pick up Hobgoblin’s bike, the officer who handled the incident said that the driver felt terrible about what he’d caused.

The thing is, I can easily see how I could do exactly what the driver did. He wasn’t out to hurt anybody; he was just distracted or absent-minded, things I often am, and he simply didn’t see the cyclist right there in front of him. It’s impossible to stay aware of everything going on around you at all times, so who can possibly say they will never be responsible for hitting someone? For very good reasons Hobgoblin doesn’t want to have any contact with the driver (I would feel the same way too), but I hope he finds out one way or another that Hobgoblin is fine and suffered only minor injuries. In some ways, Hobgoblin is the lucky one — he has a broken bike and some injuries, but the driver has to live with guilt.

Things should be back to normal soon and we will put this behind us, but I hope to remember this enough to stay cautious on the road and I hope I’m lucky enough never to cause such an accident myself.

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What a day …

Hobgoblin is just fine, but it’s no fun getting a phone call from a stranger saying that he will soon be on the way to the emergency room.  We’ve both had better days, let me tell you.

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Back home

Hi everyone — I’m back from vacation and had a wonderful time (except for this incident), but I’m having trouble settling back into things at home; it’s always hard to come back from vacation, but even harder when I face unpleasantness at work.  So while I’d love to resume regular blogging, I’m not feeling up to it at the moment; instead, I’m enjoying Ngaio Marsh’s Death in a White Tie, and wishing I could have stayed in Vermont … I’ll be back soon.

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Vacation!

Day after tomorrow, Hobgoblin, Muttboy, and I are headed out of town, so this may be my last post before we leave. We’re visiting my parents first, in the Rochester, NY, area, and then we’re heading over to Vermont where we will spend a week hiking, riding our bicycles, and seeing some sights. We know Vermont almost entirely because of backpacking, which is a great way to see a state (its woods and mountaintops at least), but rather exhausting. This trip will be wonderfully luxurious in contrast — instead of a tent or a three-sided lean-to shared with strange people and mice, we’ll have a real bed for each and every night! We’ll have showers! Restaurants! Hot food! On the downside, we won’t be woken by a moose walking to within a few feet of our tent. But that’s okay.

I’m not sure how much reading I will do, although I will certainly take along a backpack full of books. Our vacations in the past have been rather manic; instead of lounging around all day, we were more likely to climb a mountain — or three — after taking a long bike ride in the morning. But who knows? Perhaps this time we’ll be in the mood for some quiet.

I want to mention before I go that I recently finished André Aciman’s novel Call Me By Your Name and thought it was very beautiful — a perfect summer book. I don’t have time for a full review, but briefly, it’s about a summer love affair that takes place on the coast of Italy. Elio, the narrator, is a precocious 17-year-old who falls in love with Oliver, a young scholar visiting Elio’s family for six weeks to finish up his academic book. The novel tells of Elio’s obsession with Oliver and his uncertainty about how to approach him, whether to approach him, how to interpret his bewildering behavior, and how to process his own bewildering, contradictory feelings. The book captures the brief, intense love affair of summer wonderfully well; I read it fast and was caught up in its slow, thoughtful, dreamy, sometimes anguished, mood and didn’t want to put it down and didn’t want it to end. I will admit that I sometimes have trouble reading novels about the ridiculously privileged/wealthy/hyper-educated and those feelings came out here, but I did my best to ignore them for the sake of an excellent piece of writing.

As for what books I’m taking with me, definitely A.J.A. Symons’s The Quest for Corvo, which I have begun and have fallen in love with — it’s subtitled “An Experiment in Biography,” and although its subject matter is very different from Janet Malcolm’s The Silent Woman, the two books are similar in structure and method — both are about the author’s growing obsession with an intriguing and elusive biographical subject and about the course of his/her researches. Both authors turn their research into an entertaining story — entertaining because of the information revealed about the subject and about the author.

Also Charlotte Brontë’s novel Shirley, which I mean to begin any day now. I think I’ll take Jenny Davidson’s new novel The Explosionist too. I’m not sure what else. I may grab some things that appeal to me in the moment I happen to be packing.

So I’ll be back in a couple weeks with a full report. Enjoy August everyone!

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Happy weekend!

I hope you all enjoy your weekend.  Looking back, I see that today was a good day.  I had a book group meeting this morning where we discussed Nam Le’s short story collection The Boat.  The verdict was mostly positive, although everyone liked some stories more than others, and we had some criticisms of this and that.  But everyone agreed he is an excellent writer.

Then I came home and went running, and my feet didn’t hurt at all.  After that a book arrived in the mail, Parson Woodforde’s diary, written from 1758 to 1803.  It’s a big thick book, something that will take me a long time to read and that I’m pretty sure I will enjoy.  Perhaps it will make a good bedside book.

And then there was a trip to the chiropractor, where I got my shoulders massaged and my neck adjusted, and then dinner.  Somewhere in there was some time to read, and I picked up André Aciman’s Call Me By Your Name, a book highly recommended by Jenny D., partly because it’s a beautiful book and partly because it has lots of swimming, running, and cycling in it.  I’m having trouble putting it down.

Then there was swimming in the evening, where I did some drills and swam a half mile altogether (with lots of breaks) — not terribly far, really, but the farthest I’ve gone since who knows when.  And then there was a walk to town for ice cream, and now I’m home, ready to return to my novel.

That’s how a summer day should go, don’t you think?

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Weekend at Emily’s

Well, I had a fabulous time at Emily’s. Heavenly, you might say (ha, ha, sorry, inside joke). I went not knowing what we were going to do, except talk a lot, of course, and talk a lot we did, and we did many other interesting and surprising things too. As I wrote on Saturday, Emily and Bob have a fabulous house chock full of books, and any free moment I had I wandered around from room to room checking them out. But mostly I spent the time lounging around on sofas deep in conversation, and now and then we headed out into the heat to do some sightseeing.

The weekend is memorable for lots of reasons, but among them is the fact that I got to talk with a real live minister to whom I could relate as a friend rather than as an intimidating person who might ask me embarrassing questions about my (lack of) faith. I’ve never had that experience before, and I took full advantage of it. Actually Bob did do things like tell me I’m a sinner and need to confess, but he did it as a joke, and I just laughed at him. Can I just say it’s delightful to be irreverent and joke about religious matters with a minister? To swear and take the Lord’s name in vain in front of a minister and have it be no big deal? There’s something positively healing in being able to do that.

I don’t remember exactly how the topic of religion came up, but pretty soon I was asking Bob questions like “what’s your conception of God?” and we were off into deep theological waters. What I learned, among other things, is that if you ask a minister a question like that, you’d better be ready to spend a few hours talking about the answer. Bob did a wonderful job of answering my question, which really requires several years and a book-length response, in a short period of time and with great clarity and lots of good anecdotes.

I also got a kick out of attending a church service run by the minister with whom I’d spent much of the weekend being irreverent; I was pleased to discover that he wanted to hear my critique of his sermon afterwards, and that he’d added in a phrase or two at the last minute that addressed our earlier conversations. Part of my pleasure in all this is that it made me feel like such a grown-up — a church leader genuinely wanted to hear my opinion and took it very seriously and was really listening to what I had to say, rather than waiting for an opportunity to start preaching to me once again, which has been my experience with ministers in the past.

But the real highlight of the weekend was being able to talk with Emily; we talked about books and houses and friends and family and churches and theology and teaching, and also quite a lot about blogging.  It’s interesting that, although we both have been blogging for about two years and have already had many a long conversation about it, we haven’t run out of things to say; the experience remains rich enough to require even more conversation.  Also interestingly, Bob is a skeptic about the value of blogging, so the three of us argued about things like whether blogging is democratic in the sense that it gets people with different ideas and beliefs in conversation with one another or whether it makes it easy for people to retreat into groups of like-minded people who never challenge each other, and so is contributing to the fragmentation and isolation of our culture.  Although Bob had other arguments against blogging, this struck me as the most interesting; I think that blogging is whatever you make of it, so it can lead to increased exposure to different ideas and people, but I suspect that in practice it often doesn’t.  I’m not sure.  Thoughts?

Emily and Bob live in the heart of Amish country, so I saw buggies and men with long beards and women in modest dresses all over the place, and also fields and farms and livestock.  We saw some of the tourist sights, including a little village with shops selling local cheese and fudge and jam, all of which I brought home samples of, and we toured the local market, which contains mostly organic and locally-grown food, and which I really want to have just up the street from me. I had fun at the Lancaster Brewing Company, although the ghost story Bob told while we were sampling their beer is still scaring me a little at night.

Among the unexpected things we did was to spend time at the local hospital and rehab center; Emily and I would hang out in the lobby and talk while Bob visited church members.  Bob seemed to feel bad for dragging us along on these trips, but I was fine with it, as the air conditioning was a blessed relief from being outdoors, and I really just wanted to talk with Emily anyway.  It also gave me a glimpse into a pastor’s life, and I have a new respect for all the hard work they do — it’s not just the frequent visits pastors make but the fact that each one could potentially be an emotionally wrenching experience.  I saw just how much a pastor’s job is never ending and isn’t really a job at all, but more of a lifestyle.

So, to conclude, if you ever get the chance to visit Emily, don’t turn it down!  You never know what bracing debate you might find yourself in or what local public institution you might visit.  Plus, there’s the frog shrine, which is not to be missed.

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Sneaking in a blogging moment

I’m at Emily’s house right now and am sneaking in a moment to blog while Emily and her minister husband are out doing ministerial duties — I just wanted to say that oh, my god, does Emily have a great house filled with amazing books.  This is a house to die for.  I want one just like it.

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Filed under Books, Life

Monday Miscellania

I meant to write a review of Catherine O’Flynn’s novel What Was Lost today, but it will have to wait for another time when I feel more up to it.  I have already spent an awful lot of time online today, so this will be relatively quick.  I’m preparing to teach my first online course beginning at the end of June, and all that online time went toward getting started on that work.

The problem was that once I got going it was hard to stop.  It’s work I get absorbed in easily, and then questions came up that didn’t have easy answers and I couldn’t let them go, even though I have weeks to solve them.  The hardest part of setting up this course has been organizing everything, figuring out how much work to give students, when to make things due, how to set up the due dates so that they aren’t confusing or overwhelming, how to set up all the pages and subpages and arrange all the information so it’s clear.  It feels like I’m giving students a lot of work, but I have to remember (and they should too!) that we have no class time whatsoever, so asking them to do a lot of work really isn’t asking too much.  I’m thinking now that all I can ask for is that the first time through this not be a disaster and then maybe I’ll learn enough to do it better next time.  Anybody out there who has taken an online course who has ideas about what works and what doesn’t?

So, yesterday was my first race after last Tuesday’s crash, and this time around it was crash-free, although barely so.  On the last lap there was some bumping and jostling right in front of me that made me nervous enough to hit my brakes hard, but everybody stayed upright and everything turned out okay.  I was the 12th person across the line (out of 18), although officially I got 11th place because the officials relegated the woman who was doing the bumping to last place.  I was a little nervous riding with the pack, but only a little; Thursday’s long group ride helped me get back to normal.  I’m still a little afraid of crashing, but I’ve always been a little afraid of crashing, so that’s okay.

And now on to book news.  First, I’m participating in Kate’s group read of Anne of Green Gables (how could I resist this!?), which so far has been tremendous fun.  I’m maybe 50 pages into the book, and I’m loving every minute of it.  And remembering practically every detail of the book too — I read it so many times as a kid that I practically had it memorized. Check out the group blog here — there are some interesting posts up already.

I also began Amanda Vickery’s book The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England, which is a fascinating read; it’s very much academic in nature, so she spends a good bit of time arguing with what other historians have claimed about the time, but it’s very clearly written with an engaging style, and it has lots of great information on what women from the ranks of the lower gentry experienced and believed.  More on this later.

I have bought and mooched a few books too, including the latest selection for my mystery book club, Charlotte Jay’s Beat Not the Bones. The novel was published in 1952, and it takes place on New Guinea, describing a young woman who is trying to find out why her husband committed suicide.  Sounds interesting, doesn’t it?  I also ordered Sei Shonagon’s The Pillow Book; Shonagon is a woman from 10th century Japan, and the book contains her thoughts about her life and the world around her.  I read an excerpt of the book in Phillip Lopate’s The Art of the Personal Essay as part of my essay project (see sidebar) and was intrigued.

Also, Edith Wharton’s The Glimpses of the Moon for the next Slaves of Golconda read at the end of June (plenty of time to join us if you like!).  And from Bookmooch, Janet Malcolm’s The Silent Woman: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, because I’ve been wanting to read Janet Malcolm forever and this book is bound to be interesting, and James Woodforde’s Diary of a Country Parson, because Woodforde is from the 18C and I love reading about that time period.

Okay, now I’m off to do some reading!

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A day in Salem: Hawthorne, witches, and terrifying bookshops

People, I am tired. Many thanks to those of you who wrote nice comments about my crash on Tuesday — I’m doing fine, although the bruises are getting uglier. I felt so fine, in fact, that I went on an 81-mile ride today, at a much faster speed than usual for a long, hilly ride (16.7 mph). It was a group ride, with four other people, including Hobgoblin. I started off feeling sluggish and nervous about riding with others — when anyone would yell or wobble in the slightest I would panic — but pretty soon my energy returned and I forgot about the crash on Tuesday and began to ride normally. The only thing that brought the crash back to mind was that whenever I went over a pothole or a crack in the road (which was often, as those of you who know Connecticut will readily believe), the bruises on my arm hurt.

It was a beautiful day, in the 60s and 70s, dry, and sunny, and we rode through beautiful Litchfield county. The riding doesn’t get any better in Connecticut, that’s for sure.

I also wanted to tell you about my day yesterday, which was Hobgoblin’s birthday and was spent taking a day trip to Salem, Massachusetts. The first thing we saw was the house where Hawthorne was born, and the House of Seven Gables, made famous by Hawthorne’s novel. The two houses are now right next to each other, although this is because Hawthorne’s birth home was moved in the 1950s. Both of the houses are great fun to walk through — I love looking at old houses, even if they aren’t historically famous — they have the low ceilings and small rooms you would expect from houses several centuries old. The House of Seven Gables has a secret staircase that takes you from the dining room up to the attic, and it has an interesting history, with additions added and then removed, gables removed and then restored, fortunes of the owners gained and lost, and, of course, Hawthorne’s own visits to the place. I have yet to read the novel, but now feel inspired to try to get to it soon.

Next we checked out the Peabody Essex Museum and managed to see only a small part of it, as it’s surprisingly large and we have limited endurance when it comes to museums. We spent a lot of the time looking at their very cool collection of model ships (which made me feel like reading Patrick O’Brian), and then we headed off to their special exhibits, including one on weddings around the globe and another on Mauri tattoos.

After that we had time and energy for one more museum, this one not as erudite as the other two — the pirate’s museum, which was silly but fun; it wasn’t much of a museum, actually, but more of a tour through some rooms with models of pirates and a guide who told us stories of piratical violence and betrayal.

Salem has a ton of museums, most of them probably like the pirate’s museum, which, although fun, wasn’t a lot more than an excuse to have a gift shop. It’s got several museums about witches, and in fact, much of the town is witch-obsessed. There are many witch-themed shops, and the entire month of October is basically a festival celebrating witches and all things Halloween-related. The irony of this is, of course, obvious. I couldn’t help but wonder what those women accused of being witches would have thought of the modern-day town, and also what Hawthorne would have thought of the place — would he like or hate it?

To recover from our museum-attending, we checked out two of the local bookshops, the first one a good independent store, and the second a used bookstore. The used bookstore is memorable, not for its stock, which was pretty mainstream with its multiple copies of extremely famous contemporary authors, but for the terror it inspired in me. For perhaps the first time in my life I breathed a sigh of relief when we left the shop. Believe me when I tell you that the books there are dangerous. Life-threatening, in fact.

The problem isn’t with the books themselves, but with the way the owners decided to cram them into the shop — most of them are stacked on top of each other rather than shelved side by side, and the stacks tower over you, threatened to topple on your head. I made the mistake of pulling a book out of one such stack and then I panicked because it started swaying towards me. I got my hand up in time to keep it from falling on me, but the stack wouldn’t stay put, and I couldn’t figure out how stabilize it with my one free hand. Thankfully the store owner came to my rescue and fixed the pile himself. I then decided I would look only at books toward the top of the stacks, but I embarrassed myself once again: the aisles are so narrow that as I walked down one of them, my handbag brushed against one of the piles, knocking it over. Once again the owner came to my rescue, restacking the books for me. The owner’s facial expression made it pretty clear that he spends a good bit of every day rescuing klutzy customers from themselves.

I couldn’t believe the place. The book stacks bulged and teetered, making me dizzy. One section was even wrapped in a thick cord to keep the books from sliding off their stacks and onto the floor. There is no cash register in sight; instead, near the door there is a gap in the book piles, about the length of a mass market paperback, through which customers carefully hand their purchases to the cashier, who carefully hands them back once the books are paid for. I went through this process with a P.D. James novel that sounded good and walked out the door relieved that I hadn’t done even more damage.

After that we got dinner, stuffed ourselves with chocolate cake, and headed home. We had such a good time, we’re hoping to head back before too long and see the things we didn’t have time for that day. I highly recommend a visit if you get the chance, but do be careful — danger lurks in some unexpected places.

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