I haven't written because I keep reading that damn forum. I'm obsessed with how unbelievably mean people are to perfect strangers. It's rather addictive, much like bad television and trashy novels written in a weekend that lack editing. Somehow I can't get enough.
Yesterday I returned a stack of books to the library. I have a knack for arriving on campus at inopportune moments. A crowd of Knights of Columbus was assembled outside the library steps, and I nearly plowed right into the newly ordained Cardinal (Donald Wuerl, formerly Archbishop of the Washington-- not sure what he'll be now, but he can wear red). He was celebrating his first Mass as Cardinal- I was depositing a mountain of READ books at the library. It was a day of high emotions for all.
My current quandary has to do with the nature of my sources. I've come upon some books with rather intriguing titles, but they are very mass-market and seem to lack scholarly credibility. I've vowed to load these books onto my Kindle and read them "in my free time" (i.e. skim them while brushing my teeth one morning). My advisor has agreed to meet with me before Christmas, so with any luck, that meeting will inspire me to write the introduction.
Keith, thanks for making sure I didn't burn the Tater Tots this time.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
phone interrupts productivity
So I consider it totally legit that I interrupted my study session today to talk to Jessica since she just had a baby three weeks ago and we've barely gotten to catch up since then. Some very serious catching up was in order. The dissertation work sits neglected on my bed. Oops.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Weekend = semi fail
Currently Jack is sleeping through our next door neighbor's construction crew hammering the other side of his bedroom wall. I ask myself how my child can nap through this and yet wake up if I happen to drop a spoon on the kitchen floor. His napping-through-pounding has allowed me well over two hours of (boring) reading on Counter-Reformation culture in Spain-- reading that suggests that people stupidly believe things they hear from preachers if said propaganda happens to be enveloped in a cloud of fiery fear-mongering.
This reminds me of how the weekend got off to its not-so-productive start: in the name of restoring sanity (and keeping fear alive and well), Jenn, David, and I ventured down to the National Mall with our friend Rachel B from high school (visiting from New York) and our children in tow. As we approached the sea of chaos, we began to wonder if perhaps pregnancy had officially damaged our brain cells because schlepping toddlers around in a crowd of 250,000+ people all walking in different directions is not what you might call bright, educated, well thought out, or intelligent. That said, we got in a solid walk (probably a total of 7 miles) while pushing strollers and enjoyed a nice lunch in the cafe of the National Gallery of Art. Rally = fail, lunch = success.
This reminds me of how the weekend got off to its not-so-productive start: in the name of restoring sanity (and keeping fear alive and well), Jenn, David, and I ventured down to the National Mall with our friend Rachel B from high school (visiting from New York) and our children in tow. As we approached the sea of chaos, we began to wonder if perhaps pregnancy had officially damaged our brain cells because schlepping toddlers around in a crowd of 250,000+ people all walking in different directions is not what you might call bright, educated, well thought out, or intelligent. That said, we got in a solid walk (probably a total of 7 miles) while pushing strollers and enjoyed a nice lunch in the cafe of the National Gallery of Art. Rally = fail, lunch = success.
And an agent wants to see the house- so long, blog, it has been nice procrastinating with you for the last five minutes.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Friday = Fail
Today's random knock at the door at 8:30 AM while I was still clad in my attractive men's size large v-neck undershirt (no bra!) and short pajama shorts was not from a realtor- there is a GOD- but rather from my neighbor Christopher with our other neighbor Sema in tow. She had locked herself out, borrowed C's phone to call a friend with a key, and needed a place to hang while her friend took the metro from Arlington, trying his best to avoid the Marine Corps Marathon (because when your friend locks herself out of her house and needs you to travel five miles with the key during morning rush hour, it also helps to have half the city in worse-than-rush-hour gridlock).
Sema and I shared life stories. Apparently, we're both rather depressing these days. I'm sure she'd appreciate it if I kept her life story to myself.
Jack knows that Sema has dogs, so he was all over her-- actually, that part of the morning was kind of a break for me because she took him next door to peer through the windows at the dogs. Each break I got, I slipped into the bathroom to attempt part of my morning routine. Stealthily added bra, contacts, and tooth-brushing during dog breaks. Whew.
On a walk to Target, Jack noticed the Metro elevator, and the day went steadily downhill from that point on. He wanted to get on the Metro. Urban baby. He screamed pretty much for the rest of the day. While he napped I should have been doing work-- and I did-- except that part of that "work" involved talking to Chad on the phone (dissertation talk). The minute I hung up, Jack woke up after only ONE HOUR (normal nap = 2.5-3 hrs). That was it. Screaming ensued. Day catapulted into terrific catastrophe and ended with Jack turning on the dishwasher (dishes were already clean), ruining the nice "heated dry" cycle, and forcing me to hand-dry every dish. Woe is me.
Oh, and speaking of that, lots of people on that DC Urban Moms forum write "Whoa is me," ha ha ha.... but you'll be pleased to note that I did NOT read the forum today. Progress.
Sema and I shared life stories. Apparently, we're both rather depressing these days. I'm sure she'd appreciate it if I kept her life story to myself.
Jack knows that Sema has dogs, so he was all over her-- actually, that part of the morning was kind of a break for me because she took him next door to peer through the windows at the dogs. Each break I got, I slipped into the bathroom to attempt part of my morning routine. Stealthily added bra, contacts, and tooth-brushing during dog breaks. Whew.
On a walk to Target, Jack noticed the Metro elevator, and the day went steadily downhill from that point on. He wanted to get on the Metro. Urban baby. He screamed pretty much for the rest of the day. While he napped I should have been doing work-- and I did-- except that part of that "work" involved talking to Chad on the phone (dissertation talk). The minute I hung up, Jack woke up after only ONE HOUR (normal nap = 2.5-3 hrs). That was it. Screaming ensued. Day catapulted into terrific catastrophe and ended with Jack turning on the dishwasher (dishes were already clean), ruining the nice "heated dry" cycle, and forcing me to hand-dry every dish. Woe is me.
Oh, and speaking of that, lots of people on that DC Urban Moms forum write "Whoa is me," ha ha ha.... but you'll be pleased to note that I did NOT read the forum today. Progress.
Forum be damned
I need very little help procrastinating, but sometimes people send me interesting articles like this one: http://youarenotsosmart.com/2010/10/27/procrastination/ When I read how predictable I am, I start to think that it's time to try to subvert the system. I will now write in lieu of my usual method of procrastination-- reading the DC Urban Moms (and Dads) forum. That forum has taught me two things-- first, that as much as I think I need advice from random people I've never met, I don't, and second, people are downright mean when their identity is not exposed.
Here are the things from the last few days that have gotten in the way of my Destination Dissertation, to steal the title of one of the many self-help books out there designed to guide aimless students through the process:
1. Jack started stumbling around like a drunken sailor. Granted, he's not a fantastic walker yet anyway, but last weekend made him look like a CUA student after too many nights at Hawk-n-Dove. Didn't seem really alarming, but then it came with a 104 degree fever. Time for a trip to the pediatrician. Ear infection! Oh joy.
2. Oh right, health insurance. David started a new job recently- and it turns out that said new job has a difficult time providing insurance cards in a timely manner. David quickly sent over a PDF of some kind of "proof of coverage," but literally that was all it said- that we are currently covered by some form of health insurance. No ID #, no help to the doctor's office. I expect a bill in the mail.
3. From the doctor's office we went straight to Target Pharmacy. Again, no health insurance, so thankfully Amoxicillin has been around since the dawn of time and is relatively inexpensive. Went down to the parking garage where an older woman was struggling to pay for her parking in the automated machine. I helped her, then could not for the life of me find my own parking ticket. Jack was stumbling around trying to hit the elevator buttons and wreak general havoc in the parking garage. The attendant charged me the full rate of $20.
4. So the next day he was still rather miserable, and by rather miserable I mean he spent pretty much every moment screaming his head off. It was time for a drive in the car with some soothing music. 20 minutes into the drive my phone rings-- it's the alarm company. Someone has opened our front door. Perhaps you haven't seen our front door. There is no way anyone could break into that thing. Did I leave it unlocked? Had I told David I'd lock it behind him and then just forgot? Nope. A real estate agent arrived unannounced and just opened the door. The house was a catastrophic disaster. Sippy cups everywhere, medicine droppers and bottles of baby Tylenol on every surface, Jack's breakfast try with decaying banana on the counter, his pajamas from the night before in the middle of the rug. (Thankfully I had had the good sense to put the soiled diaper in the diaper pail.) I rushed home to disarm the alarm and quickly clean up. Jack remained in the car whimpering. I called our agent to voice my "displeasure." He had just come out of the pediatrician's office with his daughter who, like Jack, was miserable with an ear infection.
There was more, but enough said. Whoever has the voodoo doll, please remove the pins.
Here are the things from the last few days that have gotten in the way of my Destination Dissertation, to steal the title of one of the many self-help books out there designed to guide aimless students through the process:
1. Jack started stumbling around like a drunken sailor. Granted, he's not a fantastic walker yet anyway, but last weekend made him look like a CUA student after too many nights at Hawk-n-Dove. Didn't seem really alarming, but then it came with a 104 degree fever. Time for a trip to the pediatrician. Ear infection! Oh joy.
2. Oh right, health insurance. David started a new job recently- and it turns out that said new job has a difficult time providing insurance cards in a timely manner. David quickly sent over a PDF of some kind of "proof of coverage," but literally that was all it said- that we are currently covered by some form of health insurance. No ID #, no help to the doctor's office. I expect a bill in the mail.
3. From the doctor's office we went straight to Target Pharmacy. Again, no health insurance, so thankfully Amoxicillin has been around since the dawn of time and is relatively inexpensive. Went down to the parking garage where an older woman was struggling to pay for her parking in the automated machine. I helped her, then could not for the life of me find my own parking ticket. Jack was stumbling around trying to hit the elevator buttons and wreak general havoc in the parking garage. The attendant charged me the full rate of $20.
4. So the next day he was still rather miserable, and by rather miserable I mean he spent pretty much every moment screaming his head off. It was time for a drive in the car with some soothing music. 20 minutes into the drive my phone rings-- it's the alarm company. Someone has opened our front door. Perhaps you haven't seen our front door. There is no way anyone could break into that thing. Did I leave it unlocked? Had I told David I'd lock it behind him and then just forgot? Nope. A real estate agent arrived unannounced and just opened the door. The house was a catastrophic disaster. Sippy cups everywhere, medicine droppers and bottles of baby Tylenol on every surface, Jack's breakfast try with decaying banana on the counter, his pajamas from the night before in the middle of the rug. (Thankfully I had had the good sense to put the soiled diaper in the diaper pail.) I rushed home to disarm the alarm and quickly clean up. Jack remained in the car whimpering. I called our agent to voice my "displeasure." He had just come out of the pediatrician's office with his daughter who, like Jack, was miserable with an ear infection.
There was more, but enough said. Whoever has the voodoo doll, please remove the pins.
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