Just Rambling.

Yesterday morning, I met with my pedagogy professor. He is a nice man and a stickler for rules, which I like. He drinks coffee from a very dirty coffee cup, reminds me of my favorite professor in under grad school, and I want to volunteer to wash it for him, like I did her cup, but I decline. He might take offense and I don’t really know him well enough to wash his cup. I think that is a personal thing, like do I know someone well enough to offer to braid their hair, or make them a meal, or get them coffee. I think that is a thing that comes more with friendship than knowing in a formal classroom setting. So, I sit there while he sips from his dirty cup, and I try to focus on him and what he is saying and not what he is putting in his system and make a mental note not to get to close to him this winter, because his immune system will be low due to unwashed coffee cup. He pretty much promised all three of us grad students a position teaching next fall so I am relieved on that one. Maybe in the spring one of us will get one but he doesn’t hold out hope. I am fine with that, but Mr. Ass kisser, the guy who taught high school and thinks he is an expert on everything, kisses ass, right in front of us, I was embarrassed for him because he was blatant, oh, he says, thank you for your time, oh you are so wonderful oh your class blah blah blah. I think you fool. I, on the other hand, waited until class was over, shook the professor’s hand and told him thanks for the time. I left to catch the elevator while Mr. Ass Kisser, who from here on out shall be called the Ass Man, walked along side the professor going on and on and on about how much he is learning from class. I roll my eyes and look back at the professor who smiles and I recognize that smile and I laugh.

Now, I am drinking coffee, listening to the bacon fry, not one piece but three and two eggs and bread and real butter. Yep, I am due some comfort food. Yesterday, after staying up all night studying for my first Latin test, I came home and ate cold pizza drank a hot soda and went to bed. Today, I am so incredibly tired, not mentally tired, but physically tired and I am going to eat whatever my aging heart wants and it wants real bacon, not turkey bacon but real fatty hog bacon that has rendering to be done and splashes grease everywhere as it renders and makes that sound and that smell. Hmmm, I feel like I am a child again. And my coffee, yep, I can refill it all day and drink it really strong and hot and think while I drink. Not rushed like during the week.

My final point, at the University there is a lot of walking, a lot of carrying heavy books, and a lot of stress trying to keep from being ran over by hoards of students who are always going the opposite direction as me and who are taller than trees and don’t see the old short woman scurrying about. So after my bacon cooks, and my eggs cook, and my toasts browns, I am going to eat fatty food, drink strong coffee, and yes, lick my fingers and when my food is all consumed, I am going to burp real loud. I might take an extra Xanax, because I can and relax for about an hour, then get busy learning more about Latin clauses. I am so happy to have this opportunity and yet still feel compelled to examine and re-examine my life and if I am doing the right thing. From the first week's experience, yep, I am doing the right thing.