I woke up yesterday fretting about my comps, which were slated for next week.
I went to bed last night wondering if I would be able to take them.
And this morning it became even less of a possibility.
Snow. Ice. Sunday and Monday. And maybe it will still be a problem on Tuesday?
These are things we don’t deal with in my lovely part of the world. The state is quick to close roads. Your insurance doesn’t cover you on closed roads. I’m not interested in traveling very far on ice.
And then the forecast changed. Winter flexed, relaxed and flexed again. It was an interesting day, sunny and in the upper 40s, watching forecasts of two, then four, then six, then two and four again, then one and then possibly 10 inches of snow and ice. Meteorologists, really getting into it, briefly predicted snow for all 67 counties.
Maybe that happened in 1993, the storm that people still talk about in quiet tones (they’ve pointedly said this storm isn’t that storm). Think of it, all 67 counties? We’re in the deep south and this is a big state. A storm large enough and powerful enough to cover everywhere with snow? That’s impressive to consider.
And this is all supposed to happen Sunday and Monday. Tuesday, it has been prophesied, the roads could still be bad.
So at the end of the day I postponed my comps. It will be a slight inconvenience to reschedule, sure, but there’s no need to rush over on ice to do it. (Presuming the campus is even open. That’s in doubt, too.) And, silver lining, I can use the extra time to do more reading.
There’s always something on the other hand, even on big, arduous tests.
So that was the day. That and reading and wondering and studying and watching weather that hasn’t gotten here yet. I didn’t like the decision at first, but it was the right choice. There will be another four day stretch in which to take this test, and those days will have less weather.
The late call is for ice in Auburn in Montgomery and between four to eight inches of snow in Birmingham. Buy your bread, friends.
In college the running joke is that if someone called you told them you were at the library. Better than a parent hearing you were on a date or taking some road trip when you should have been pulling an all-night. When I was in undergrad I told my roommate to never tell my mother that if she called. She’d see right through it. I don’t care for libraries.
Books. I love books. I love to read. I’m writing this in our personal library at home. It needs a name, and we’re working our way toward one, but I feel the name of your private library should be carefully considered and evolved naturally. Unless you have a benefactor. And if someone gives you money for more shelves and books, then you name your library in their honor, send them cards every Thanksgiving and Christmas and let them borrow books whenever they want.
Anyway. I dislike libraries. Mostly because you go there with the idea of getting something done. A student goes to study. A reader goes to pick up a new book. I never checked out a great deal of books, but I’ve had to study once or twice in my academic career. And the library, I’ve found, is built for opposite purposes. There are so many books there! So much to read! So many things to learn! And, also, there’s this stuff I have to learn. I’ve come to accept this as one of the complex contradictions that make me the inscrutable individual I am.
But I had to visit the library today. There was a book or two I wished to pick up for my studies. I found them in the online catalog, made note of their numbers in the Library of Congress system and then set out for a visit.
I walked in, pulled out my spouse card and said “My wife is on the faculty here. Can I check out books with this?” The young lady deferred to her colleague. Again, then. The new person asks about fees. We’ve discussed them. I think I’ve paid something. The card works for other scanners on the campus. She makes a phone call to the department from whence the card was assigned. They’ve decided I should pay for the pleasure of checking out books.
Fine.
“How about this card?” I produce my faculty card at Samford. No.
“How about this card?” I produce my student card from Alabama. No.
This is a friendly chat, but frustrating. I’m an alum. My wife is on the faculty. I have two cards from other research institutions. But yet it will still require $20 to check out books. “That’s $20, annually, not $20 each time.” And thanks for that.
The supreme irony being that were I at Samford or Alabama today I could check out these same books from this library via the Interlibrary Loan agreements. They’d ship them across the better part of the state. Someone would even bring them to my department. This would all be done for free.
I have a better idea. The Yankee can come help. But the very nice lady quickly sends me an Email. Turns out I can check out books, as a graduate student from Alabama. So I grab a stack of books and visit one desk, the very nice lady, upon hearing all of this agrees, “Oh that’s bad.” She sends me to the first desk, who brings out the second woman. So, after five pleasant conversations and two phone calls, I have a stack of books.
And they are good, helpful books, so it all worked out.
I include this picture because there’s nothing else to tell you about but reading and writing and breaking a plate in the kitchen and starting a very small fire on the stove. I dropped a cup on the cracked plate and the little bits of paper met a warm stove eye. So there you go. So this picture, then. (Click to embiggen.)
The picture is from our New Year’s Eve Pie Day and I’ve been saving it for a slow day such as this. We were at Jim ‘N’ Nicks, where the light is a little low. In the shot with The Yankee she’s moving from menu to glance at the waiter as I took the picture. That’s why her shoulder somehow disappears. Despite all of that, this is fairly promising.
I’ve been searching for a good (and by good I mean usable and free) panoramic app for the iPhone. This one is that. The picture above was my first experiment.
For some reason it didn’t include the last photograph on the right. The app handles the stitching by itself. It isn’t perfect — but this is on a phone. If I were doing panoramas as I did on our honeymoon I would use my SLR and stitch them together the old fashioned way, by hand at 1400 percent magnification.
The big problem is that the shutter button isn’t exactly sensitive. On the upside, it makes the composite for you and saves it directly to the photo album. And it is free.
Also, I’ve picked up two other photo apps. I’ll let you know.
What do these jelly beans have to be joyous about? Have they been misled? Did someone at the factory tell them of the vacation home to which they would be sent?
Oh yes, there’s a beach. Lovely place. Clear, blue water. And some green. And it alternates with all the other colors. Kind of like you guys!
If you were a jelly bean this would be great news. “Home! Maybe there would be more like you, and fewer of these guys, the bums you’re having to share the box with. Tell me more about that ocean. I’d like to know the exact moment it goes from blue to aquamarine. It just sets my coloring a-glow.”
These were a Christmas gift, these jelly beans. A stocking stuffer. I’m sitting in the library trying to study and the beans are calling to me. “We’re joyous! If only you’d open this box you could hear the sound! And, also, where’s that ocean?”
They are of a Christmas theme. Sorry. Holiday theme.
I don’t take offense at the difference between Christmas and holiday as far as the marketing word choice goes. It is your product, you want to appeal to a great many customers without alienating them. That’s a sound strategy. Lately, though, there’s a bit of intellectual laziness — and a wink to the perceived intelligence of the customer base. Have a great … holiday, and enjoy the Christmas imagery.
Christmas and the celebrants thereof don’t hold the adjective jolly to themselves, but I bet you can guess who they’re hinting at here. Red and green are more of a Christmas theme. Hanukkah Harry, you’ll recall, wore blue. And the jelly beans aren’t alone. This ad campaign is still running:
The really nice thing about the jelly beans though, aside from that little bit of joy escaping in the opened box of the second picture, is that they are both delicious and kosher. The certifying rabbi’s name is on the label. It is this gentleman. I am eating kosher Irish jelly beans, approved of by a man in Liverpool, England, distributed from a company in California, purchased for me by my mother-in-law in Connecticut, hauled back to Alabama on a Delta flight. The fumaric acid — the most ominous sounding thing listed in the ingredients, and intended to add a hint of sourness, according to Wikipedia — is exhausted just thinking about it.
Sadly, they’ve yet to find the beach.
I ordered a hotel room today. This will be for a future trip, of course. Ordering a room has never been easier, except when there are ways to save money. Scope out the place I want, do one last check to make sure no one else is sneaking in with a better price under the gun. Nope, this place is still $15 a night better than the rest. It has Internet and the pictures look clean. Also there is a mini-fridge. Done and done.
So I book the room. But I find that the Best Available Rate option in the drop down box is the Fisher-Price button. It looks nice, and makes sense in that particular spot, but doesn’t do anything. The AAA rate is, in fact, six bucks cheaper a night, still. My AAA membership has lapsed.
A search ensues for the paperwork. The price looks manageable. And, since they just saved my bacon a few days ago in a cold, lonely parking deck it seems a reasonable investment. For the two of us that’s $71. The calculus kicks in for everyone here. You start subtracting from that total and vow to use AAA discounts where you can. I’ve already saved $14 bucks from that membership fee. And just wait until I actually use the AAA app on my phone!
Now I have a room. But there is no pool. This is doubly sad because it is January and suddenly I want to swim. The neighborhood association website says our pools reopen April 15th. Today is January 3rd. That’s a long way off to nurture the need to float.
All of the above is done electronically, of course. The paperless society has just led to stacks of paper categorized in more arbitrary ways, but at least the random check stub isn’t falling out of the collection. That’s one aspect of the modern economy that has perks and disadvantages. I only write approximately six checks a year now. I will still be writing 2010 in the upper right corner next October.
Seen another way, the changing of months and years hampers me on the website. I have a very complicated system for archiving the pictures like you see above. The directories are uploaded and organized on a monthly basis and each individual file is numbered sequentially. This. I believe, will mystify anyone that would like to grab an authorized jelly bean snapshot. If that technical difficulty doesn’t dissuade the unscrupulous, I can always call into action Plan B: sending in the local toughs who want to make sure no one gets wise with my pictures. They’re pricey — why do you think I’m saving AAA cash on a hotel room? — but worth it.
Anyway. I was just wondering, with the jelly bean pictures, what number they would be for December when I realized … oh yes. The flipping of the calendar.
Earlier today The Yankee said she didn’t even know what day it was. I’m not even convinced of the month. All I know is it isn’t April 15th. The pool is closed.
Lots of studying today. A lot more to come. My boss called to check on my progress. Swell guy, really.
“How is it coming? Anything I can do?”
Overwhelmed. Feeling behind. Help me shake this head cold?
I’d only recently woken up and sounded and felt miserable and didn’t mind if anyone knew it. The last several days I’ve been battling sinus troubles. There’s nothing to speak of here, this is as routine as it gets. It is frustrating and then it passes.
The last two days I’ve been feeling better. I can breathe and everything, and that puts you right back at 95 percent efficiency. That’s under the influence of Sudafed, however. You can’t take them during the overnight hours, though, so the first few steps from the bed to the pills to the steamy shower are rough.
I’m now tired of coughing, so I’m mentally prepared to feel better. And I’m tired of taking pills, so my improvement is all but assured. The Sudafed, I believe, are getting larger. They are now the size of jelly beans. They aren’t very joyous.
Busy month ahead. I’ve lately been saying that about everything. This time it will be even more true. Reading, studying, comprehensive exams and preparing for the class I’m teaching … and then on to the dissertation. January is accounted for.
the Yankee graduated with her Ph.D.
we took our honeymoon to Italy, Greece and Turkey
the Yankee took a job at Auburn
we celebrated our first anniversary
we bought a house
we moved
we discovered we may live on an Indian burial ground
we watched a perfect season of football
I finished the coursework in my Ph.D.
we traveled to Memphis, Las Vegas, New York City and points beyond
we celebrated victories and shared in the sadness of losses
we saw many of our friends, but none of them enough
and we loved our families, but none of them enough.
It was a full, demanding, challenging, rewarding, exhilarating, exhausting, wonderful year. I’m glad you’ve shared in it with us a bit. I hope yours was as full of blessings and joy as ours, and that your 2011 is twice as promising.
