Wednesday « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

Wednesday

From my well to Norway

Got around to calling the well guy today. Your well is due an inspection every two years, turns out. I’m only a few weeks behind. We had them out to do the inspect in 2023, and not a minute too soon. The old one was about to rust out and explode. What had started as a well inspection appointment grew a bit alarming for me in the days running up to the actual visit. When the crew got here the guy said I could replace the tank now, or wait until it exploded, which would, he said, be soon.

Thanks for the options, pal.

The guy had a new one right there on the truck. These, he assured me, are much better. Fiberglass never rusts. Well sign me up, and keep the water off my floor. And you might think this sounds like a very sophisticated confidence game from the well guy, but the rust that was everywhere looked plenty authentic.

Anyway, time marches on. The well provides water. Many showers were enjoyed, dishes washed, water bowls filled, etc. Everything behaves more or less as it should. We are pleased with this sequence of events. We made the right choice in replacing it that November day.

But now I have to call to set up that inspection. Because they don’t have a service calling to remind people, which seems like an opportunity lost, if you ask me. Also, the water running through our house is making an odd noise just now, which seems like the beginning of a problem, if you ask me. Also, as I noticed this morning when I went down to the well to verify I had the right phone number, I noticed that there was suddenly an error code on the water softener device. Error 102, which I’ve since looked up, could mean any number of things.

So I called the guy.

And he’s a genial fellow. He is also slammed because of the snowpacolypse rolling in this weekend, and can we schedule something next week?

Sure, I say, but first you have to convince me that these problems I’m telling you about aren’t going to do me in between now and then. He assures me with the practiced, steady tone of a man who’s been dealing with all of this for too long.

And what he’s dealing with here is that fiberglass tank. He said he bought a bunch of those. All but two of them went back to the manufacturer, because they’re krep. Guess who has one of the two. The guy said he’s taken it in the teeth on these things, and he’s going to again. This is under warranty.

He tells me we can live our lives for a few more days and nothing we’ll go wrong and I guess we’ll see. He’s getting another phone call as soon as the roads clear.

I had a checkup at the dermatologist late this morning. Good thing I took all of my skin with me. This was a simple follow-up after they carved a little piece of my back off last fall. I think it took longer for me to take off and put on clothes again than the whole of the appointment.

I got the once over, under a flashlight. He froze one little mark off my shin. It’s nothing, probably stays a nothing, but just in case. Would that all of life’s problems could be dispatched so quickly. But if you can avoid getting that frozen spray in life, do that. That stayed with me for most of the afternoon.

Turns out they left a sliver’s worth of stitching in the skin on my shoulder The assistant tweezed that out before I even realized she was back there.

I set up another appointment for the summer. Because of the spot they took off last fall they want me back every six months to study my alabaster skin. The doctor would not commit to how long we’ll be running at this pace. You’d get the sense from talking with them that being dismissive of it all is SOP.

Guess what conversation we’ll be having with them at my July appointment.

My lovely bride and I then had a nice lunch date. We enjoyed a few minutes of not doing other things at Chick-fil-A. It seems a good prescriptive. I’m glad I thought of it.

Since we were there, we stopped at Lowe’s. I picked up some 4SL 5W-30 oil for the snow blower. “Everyone’s getting ready,” said the woman who was working in the outdoors section.

I thought she could put that perfunctory cheer away, put a little panic in her voice, and help goose this week’s sales figures.

We cruised the light fixture aisle, because that’s what one does when one goes to a place with many fixtures and bulbs, but one also did not think to bring the TWO different specialty bulbs (for comparison) that need replacing. Then we went to the tool section. Brad nails, if you please. And hey, since I’m here, a few new fine-toothed jig saw blades.

One impulse purchase isn’t terribly impulsive, particularly if it A.) won’t spoil and B.) you have an eventual need for it’s use. (Just as soon as the weather turns.)

Then we headed to campus for a late afternoon faculty meeting. While working in the office, I received this email.

I wondered How far from the base of the building can I fling my computer? A good way, I’d imagine. My office is on the 6th floor.

Look, it’s one thing for young people and/or whining adults to mangle the language, turning an adjective into a present participle, but I am going to demand a little more from the marketing whizzes hired by the health system.

And don’t think I won’t bring that up to them, the next time I go to see my doctor and run into the direct mail tech team.

At our faculty meeting, well, faculty met. Things were discussed. Successes celebrated, grievances distributed. New policies were announced.

Then at home, in the driveway, I just missed the sunset, and the Canada geese.

Oh, they honk and they honk, they can’t help themselves. But while you can discern the direction, at that time of night you can’t get everything to work just right, camera-wise. I have a cool blurry one though, if anyone is interested.

I decided to take an FTP test. Your classic functional threshold power test, a ramp test, is a way to gauge your current level of fitness. I don’t really need to take this because my current level is: unfit. On a ramp test, and this is oh-so-interesting, you add power every minute and keep riding until you can’t. I sat up a bit early, I could have done more, maybe a little bit more, but I wanted to also cover some casual miles. Besides, this test showed an increase of 15 percent in my recent FTP.

I was riding somewhere in Norway.

Not very well, mind you, because, again, see above, unfit. But a January baseline is established. And now I can ride and see if it will improve.

And then I did the 10 miles or so around Plum Island, Massachusetts. Wikipedia:

The island is named for the wild beach plum shrubs that grow on its dunes, but is also famous for the purple sands at high tide, which derive their color from tiny crystals of pink pyrope garnet.

And it all sounds lovely. Looks it, too!

A bit farther down the Wikipedia page, there’s a list of beach and dune pests. And while, just a moment ago I wanted to go to northeaster Massachusetts and see this barrier island, I have now realized that things are so bad that each of these have subheadings on Wikipedia: Greenhead flies, ticks, mosquitoes, poison ivy.

That same place on the island, on Google Maps.

Want to see where I was on the FTP test? Somewhere just outside of Hjelle.

My avatar is riding in the Strynefjellet Mountains:

Here you will find a true wilderness, inhabited only by birds and animals adapted to an arctic climate, perhaps a predator in search of prey, a wild reindeer, a golden eagle, or sheep in summer pastures. Here there is plenty of space – and plenty of time. Change down to a lower gear and head into the mountains.

You think, “Norway in January, brr and no thank you.” Their weekend forecast and mine is about the same temperature. We’re expecting all of that snow — or maybe some of it, truly, no one knows, because who needs robust weather forecasting capabilities in the 21st century? — but in the Strynefjellet Mountains, they are under a Yellow Warning for Avalanches. I clicked that, and I am left to conclude that this is so commonplace that they don’t even include details. The blurb basically says, Don’t do it if you don’t have experience.

Not to worry, Norway, not to worry.

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14
Jan 26

Just us cool cats

Let us begin with the most important part, and the most popular part of the site, our regular check-in with the kitties.

Just the other night, a blustery and chill evening with the wind whipping, when it wasn’t howling, and the house creaking when it wasn’t popping, we all curled up together on the sofa. When the four of us are in one spot it feels like a life raft scenario. Or, maybe, a dangerous one: the entire brain trust in one spot!

At least I know where everyone is, and that everyone is happy, and not locked up or somehow magically slipped outside. These are self-imposed concerns, but they cross my mind a few times a day. And more in these days when there is less going on.

Like there’s less going on. There is. There is less now, than there will be. And so I looked at our feet and looked and the drowsy cats and enjoyed the moment, and then went back to reading the news.

Poseidon had a nice afternoon in the sun. I wonder if they perceive the differences of time. Or is it too subtle. Maybe one day from the next is far too little, but do they get a sense of “These naps are longer than the ones I enjoyed several naps ago?” They say time is a construct, but shadows disagree, and so would a sunbathing cat, I would think.

Phoebe climbed up on my shoulder, which is something her brother normally does, and decided to take a nap there. Forgive the poor composition, but I was hunched over for critter comforts and balance, and trying to get both a book shelf and ceiling fan out of the background.

So the kitties are doing just fine, thanks for asking. They would like, however, some more cuddles. They’re routines are bafflingly precise, which is why I wonder about cats and the passing of time. And, if you’re good, you can do a lot in the seven minutes between their needy demands.

I am not that good.

Today I was asked to be in a meeting, tomorrow, about yesterday’s meeting. And another meeting next week. I demurred on the latter, and think I can miss the former. In lieu of that meeting I wrote a three-page document that detailed all of the things that I would have said, which were only slightly more specific than what I said yesterday.

I’m sure I’ll send it on tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll blow it up and re-write it beforehand.

Today I also cinched and locked one syllabus. Which is great! Class starts next week! I’m close to the other.

I get to a place where some part of me says, “Ya know, you’re just tinkering with this for the sake of it.” And then I spend another hour or so on it, and call it done. It isn’t the best writing process, but I fall into it sometimes.

This process does have one added benefit, that when I apply it to regular writing, as opposed to sectioned and portioned off things like a syllabus, I can look back on the product and say, confidently, “Yep, I edited that to within an inch of its life.”

And then I send off the edited-and-barely-still-standing document. And then I notice the typos.

I also built my two first slide decks of the new semester today. I’m wondering if I should do more.

I should do more.

Update: I would not do more. I came back by the office later, and noticed I’d left my light on, which has become code for Go back in there and do some work. But I don’t always.

But I should. I like the work and all.

And that part is best of all, because there will be more of it tomorrow.

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7
Jan 26

The more interesting parts of Wednesday were other days

I met a high school student the other day, not for work purposes, but this is the daughter of someone we know socially. She was telling us about her classes. This student is taking three AP courses in the 10th grade. I think my high school, a whole century ago, might have offered three total AP courses. Ultimately, if the student continues to take AP courses and passes the end-of-year exams, she basically graduates from high school and is prepared to almost be a college sophomore in terms of credit hours.

The classes are pretty remarkable, too. A high school sophomore is taking classes that will potentially substitute for a college psychology class and a geography course, but she said her favorite was AP World History. I leaned in and asked her what her favorite era was so far. She said she was presently interested in colonial slavery. She rattled over a couple of particular aspects that intrigued her.

I leaned in a little further. I have a read for you, I said. I used to teach a class that was about different media forms and how and when they emerged. And when we discussed books, you could talk about several books. There’s obviously the printing press, the Bible and protestant reformation … I ratted off a few others. And then told her how the capture and enslavement of Black Africans from the Senegambia by the Portuguese in the 15th century set in motion a series of supremacist attitudes we’re still dealing with today. Prince Henry was collecting slaves, and eventually, he was apparently making more money off people than the rest of his country. Henry had a man that worked for him named Gomes Zurara, who wrote and validated the enslavement. The way Zurara figured it, capturing Africans they were actually saving souls. Zurara put all of this in a book form. There’s this confluence of events, books become popular, the Portuguese start exploring, expanding their shipping lanes, and they’re making all of this money. And this book I told her about, Stamped uses that as a key premise. Because I am an excellent storyteller, she thought this was an incredible

I think she was just excited to talk to someone about books.

You know who else likes books? Poseidon likes books. If you’re reading, you’re sitting down somewhere, somewhere still and he can get his cuddle on.

Phoebe, meanwhile, will catch a nap just any ol’ place that’s comfortable.

She was sitting, one recent afternoon, on the end of the dining room table, enjoying the sunshine. I said to my lovely bride, I should put some seat cushions there for her.

My lovely bride laughed and said I shouldn’t do that.

I went by sometime later and she wasn’t on the table, so I put a seat cushion where she’d been sitting. Then I sat out looking for her. And there she was.

Just any ol’ place that’s comfortable.

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31
Dec 25

My class prep begins to shudder back to life

Doing work was a bad idea. It made my head hurt.

The first two times I wrote the previous sentence I wrote “It made my hurt.” It took three tries to get “head” into the thing. You know, the critical part … both of me, and the point I was trying to make.

Anyway.

Maybe, for the new year, I’ll re-name the blog “Anyway.”

Anyway, I wrote my old English teacher. Or the woman my keen world wide web research skills convinced me was her. Maybe we’ll find out one of these days. By the way, nothing takes you right back to grade school quite like writing someone who used to meticulously assessed your grammar. I spent some time on that letter, is what I’m saying. It was probably too light and breezy by the time I was done. Also, it was edited to within an inch of it’s life. Usually those two things are at odds with my process. I’ve no idea what this means. Maybe my former teacher can explain it to me. I wrote a few other people, too.

Then I did some more work. I did some more wrangling of my inboxes. This, I’ve learned, is best done in doses. Otherwise I just might delete everything in a fit of delight. Some things need to be kept. Some things need to be filed. I tend to use the inbox itself as a To Do list, so I try to keep it under 30 items. Somewhere between 20 and 30 is where my mind switches from “Can do!” to paralysis by volume. And that’s a good speed for an academic, otherwise you might get ideas.

Currently my work inbox has 30 emails, but eight of them are from me, and one other one will be dealt with on Monday. That’s a good number, for now. I’d like to keep my personal inbox, also a To Do list, under 20, but it is presently sitting at 33. There are a lot of articles in there to read. This, too, will be done in stages.

I also opened, I dunno, roughly 30 new tabs for a side project I’m considering. I am considering too many side projects. But I’ll have a lot of time for them when the semester begins! (I will never learn.)

I had a look at my course evaluations from the fall. Generally quite good. One student complained about their commute. If that’s as bad as it gets, I had a good term. Here are a few thoughtful answers. We request the feedback, I do not insist it is all positive.

“I really loved taking this class and learned so much from Professor Smith. He uplifted me in moments where I didn’t know I needed it. Professor Smith gave me academic advice on numerous occasions and was very gracious with our entire class. Overall, this class was a 12/10!”

“Professor Smith is one of the best professors I’ve have had at Rowan University. He is a great professor, and I will be taking more of his classes next semester.”

“This class was always one I was excited to attend due to the fact of Professor Smith’s way of communicating to his students.”

“I could not have imagined any other professor for this class. I will be taking one of his classes next semester, and the only reason I decided to take it is because he is the one teaching. I’m looking forward to having another class where he is the man in charge.”

“He’s legitimately a once in a lifetime professor take this man’s class whenever he offers.”

“Professor Smith made it a very comfortable setting that has allowed me to thrive. It is clear he cares for this subject matter, and cares about his students more. He is a vital part of this program.”

Maybe some of these classes are pretty good. I can tell in the evaluations which comment comes from which class, but I can’t tell which person. One of the two classes represented here, Criticism in Sport Media, will be taught again in the spring. The other, Organizational Communication in Sport, I’ll teach again next fall.

I made calendars for the spring term. I started scribbling on the new calendars. This will be handy for about three weeks. Most importantly, I managed to lay out roughly half of the new Rituals and Traditions course in outline form today. There’s a lot of prepping to be done beneath that, but I know what half the units will be like, and when. I’ll give it a few days and then come back and look it over, for quality control.

So it was a solid afternoon. Let’s see what this builds into.

One work day down. I’ll take off tomorrow to watch too much football. And then, on Friday, I’ll set a timer to see how much I can do before I throw my hands up in disgust.

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24
Dec 25

Christmas Eve

I know two kitties who are ready for some holiday spirit.

Phoebe is wondering why she has no presents under this tree. (They went under the other tree later. We have two trees.)

Poseidon found them out straight away. This one, you see, is a pretty substantial cardboard box. Being a cat, he doesn’t care what might be inside. He just wants to know if he can get inside.

I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow, after Santa Paws arrives. He better be good until then. That’s a tall order. He’ll try. But he can’t be good for that long.

Maybe Santa Paws will make this an early stop.