tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109973702024-03-08T01:53:44.824-08:00CauldronI like books.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.comBlogger367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-19470906760494654022010-12-05T02:46:00.000-08:002010-12-05T02:47:43.665-08:00Writing Under Pressure<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been working on my comps for about an hour and need to take a break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I started Friday at 1:00 and hammered out nine pages all at once on the big question that I have to answer. Then, I slept for a couple of hours, and yesterday, I finished the answer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This morning, I am looking it over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’ve selected my second question and have done an outline and have the books needed for my support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I just don’t see how I am going to make it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have until 1 tomorrow but I teach two hours in the early morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I guess, from 9:30 until 1:00, I can hammer out what I need to finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Damn, I hate working under pressure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Back to work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:334.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-25809458819409987842010-11-18T10:47:00.000-08:002010-11-18T10:50:08.836-08:00Soups on<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Cambria, serif;"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> The Best Damm Cabbage Soup</o:p></p><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I don’t know if it was because all I had was end of the month vegetables wilted in my refrigerator or because it was cool outside and the leaves were falling and I wanted smells coming out of the kitchen,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>but yesterday, I made, without a doubt, the best damn cabbage soup in the world.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I started with some left over from breakfast bacon grease, enough to cover a soup pot bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I threw in some chopped up bacon, a bout a half of a large yellow onion minced, one garlic clove (also minced), two wilted carrots trimmed, peeled, and diced into very small pieces,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>a small piece of very wilted but not molded bell pepper, and one large stick of celery chopped, Then, I let them cook in that hot bacon grease for a few minutes, then I washed the hell out of a big cabbage that I bought at the market and forgot that I had,, and peeled off all the big leafy pieces that looked bad and then I chopped it into long strips and put in the hot pan on top of the other vegetables and bacon and bacon grease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Immediately thereafter, I poured enough water over the cabbage to just cover it and let it get hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When it started boiling, I added about a half of cup of apple cider vinegar,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>some fresh ginger that I grated over the pot—probably two tablespoons of that—I keep my ginger in the freezer so I always have fresh, then I added about a fourth to a half cup of brown sugar and let it cook down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When the stuff was well tender and smelling like heaven, I added a couple of meat finds that I had cooked the day or two before like one half of a small steak, I cut into strips, and a hamburger patty that I had made hamburger steaks out of and it was nice and easy to crumble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After the meat had a chance to get all good in the cabbage soup juice and all hot, I salted and peppered it all one more time and served it over nothing cause it was so fucking awesome by itself. </p> <!--EndFragment--> <!--EndFragment--> </span>zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-25807486248134984592010-09-06T12:44:00.000-07:002010-09-06T12:51:59.278-07:00MoneyNot having money really sucks. And, what money I have goes to things like bills, food, gas, and more bills. So, I've been looking at ways to cut down on my household expenses and have decided that over the next year, I am going to cut out buying detergents. These items are my biggest expense and are necessary but can be made cheaply at home. So, when I run out of laundry soap and household cleaner and dish soap, I am switching to home made and see what's up. <div><br /></div><div>So, over the next few months, I'm going to treat this blog like poverty journal or a surviving poverty journal and talk about things like how to make it on little to no money. Coming soon, soap instructions but not until I actually make the soap and try it. Then I'll blog. For now, here's what I do when I am getting close to bare cabinets, soups. </div><div>My favorite soup recipe is more like a goulash recipe because I use hamburger meat, onions, bellpeppers, carrots, potatoes, and tomato sauce. I usually have all of these ingredients. </div><div>1. cook hamburger and drain off grease. </div><div>2. Sautee onions, bellpeppers, and if I have it garlic and celery.</div><div>3. Add cooked meat to satueed ingredients and pour into a big pot with some water.</div><div>4. Add carrots and tomato sauce and diced potatoes and anything else I have lying around.</div><div>Cook until all the ingredients like potatoes are done and let simmer on low for a few hours. </div><div>I serve with cornbread. </div><div>When I have money, I use stew meat or round steak chopped up.</div>zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-7769327108529546282010-04-02T04:07:00.000-07:002010-04-02T04:08:21.512-07:00Professional Development<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I am at the PCA in St Louis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I presented a paper on Dora The Explorer and loved it, thought I did well, and had a lot of feedback from the audience. But, here’s the deal:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is the third conference in three weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have driven to all three conferences and next week, I am presenting yet one more paper at one more conference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I did this, I swear, I did not noticed they were all back to back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Consequently, I am at my wits end, highly emotional, and wanting to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But, I’ve learned a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Like when I was at the C’s, I learned how to do kick ass proposals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When at the CEA, I moderated for the first time, and here at the PCA, I attended a professional development seminar on putting together the employment package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They actually went from the CV, to the phone interview, to the contract letter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And it is getting close to that time of leaving the comfort of graduate school and entering the job force.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I really am not looking forward to competing because I am older than probably all of the new PhD folk and that, I think, puts me at a great disadvantage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, for the last four years, I have worked my ass off getting published, getting service credit, presenting at conferences, and doing whatever I can to make my CV more attractive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The cost: no rest. </p> <!--EndFragment-->zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-79647186830200790802010-01-09T06:02:00.000-08:002010-01-09T06:04:13.400-08:00todaySadly, I have neglected my blogging. I have been so distracted by finishing my course work for my PhD, writing for publications, and working as an adjunct to support my grandchildren. So, blogging has fallen way down on the list of things I need to do before I go to bed; however, this year, I am going to try and update monthly. Besides, I am in the hospital getting giant doses of IV steroids and feel like I could move a mac truck with one hand. Yep. <br />Academically, I trudge on. I seem to fall in all the old traps that I see my students falling into: fast writing and slow to no revising. Also, I am so overbooked that months in advance my calendar is full. I booked to present at three conferences and am, to say the least, strapped for time to get the actual writing done for those projects. I am still studying for my comps, which, at the rate that I am going, will be a disaster. <br />I want to do the weeklong WPA conference training this summer but am going to have to kick my ass in gear to get a paper so I can get funding. Geeze. And, I am seriously thinking about starting a new literacy project here on the hill. Yeah, I know. But there are poor kids here too and poor kids who could use a good book to read and talk about and a place to hang out and do that reading and talking. I’m going to talk to one of the churches and see if I can use their space and let them help me sponsor it. That way it’s mine and I can do with what I want. Right? The Fort would be an ideal spot for a literacy project and I am sure I could get help from the community and I may go that route too. The smartest man in the world once told me to work in my community; help my people, and the work will be easy. Yes, that is what I need to do. <br />Okay with the chatter. Hope you all had a great holiday. Now down to business.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-38387047574779595162009-12-31T19:09:00.000-08:002009-12-31T19:10:23.643-08:00Happy New YearIn a few short hours, I will be 55. Fifty-five, I’m finding out, is not as hard to take as 50 or even 30. But, there are some serious consequences to living this long. I suppose the most worrisome is that I am having these little fantasies about the end of my life. Now mind you, that end is far away and I’m at least one hundred and I have many loving grandchildren who are fawning all over my death bed. I guess the natural order of life is the older you get the more real death becomes. Nonetheless, I am still here and am still working hard to get my PhD. So Happy New Year and hopefully the end of this decade will be the beginning of great things for all of us.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-32473092367406112412009-09-22T14:49:00.000-07:002009-09-22T14:52:58.196-07:00It has come down to thisSo, I am studying or my PhD comps. I figured, originally, that I’d take them around November; however, I, now, am setting a more realistic goal of around January or February. That way, I’ll have the rest of this semester to re-read the material and maybe do a little more outlining of my stuff. Hopefully before the end of spring semester, I will be ABD. Then, the matter of setting down and putting together my dissertation from what I’ve already written into a document to see what I need to add and if I need to add and where and how and so forth. <br /><br />I came back to school around 2004, I think. Maybe the spring of 2004 and by the spring of 2005, I had my BA in English. I began my MA in Comparative Lit/Cultural studies in the fall of 2005 and finished around the same time I finished my course work for PhD. I know, very weird; however, I didn't really take thesis hours and instead, took classes for my PhD. So, here I am some four years or four and half years later and have become a Bachelor, a Master, and hopefully, soon, a PhD. What does all this mean? Not sure yet.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-18114439890139022912009-06-28T05:39:00.000-07:002009-06-28T05:41:45.096-07:00My SonSo when Elvis died, I was pregnant with my son. I had been having a lot of morning sickness and spent most of the time in the bathroom. I had also just been transferred into the labor and delivery unit at our hospital and was happy but that day, we had no women in labor and rather than paying us to sit around and do nothing, we were pulled out on other floors to help the other nurses. I liked being pulled out because I was never assigned my own patients; rather, I just helped. The nurses on the floor appreciated our help and it gave me more time to get to know the patients that I helped with. That day, I was helping with a man who had two broken legs and a broken back. I think he was in a car accident. I was telling him that if he must smoke, he had to drink two four ounce cups of juice to replace the vit c that the nicotine destroyed and for some reason, I looked at the TV and they said it, the king is dead. Not one time did I think the King meant some king of some country. I remember almost falling to my knees and getting this awful taste in my mouth before I turned and threw up in the trash can behind me. The guy said, are you okay. I said, I’m sorry, I’m pregnant. I then heard the nurses in the hall running to an empty room to hear the news and some were crying and others were saying oh no. How ironic that I was pregnant with my son when the king of rock and roll died and he, my son, called me to tell me the king of pop had just died.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-58121805169677942742009-03-31T09:15:00.000-07:002009-03-31T09:20:36.694-07:00What I've done this semester.What I've accomplished: wrote reading journal, reading history, encylopedic entry on sociolinguistics, part of a chapter in a book for esteemed professor in the book of famous to me guys, wrote a fresh conference paper, and am writing a paper for the class that I am taking. Plus, I've read a ton of books.<br /><br />Finally, I’m heading to Ohio for a literacy conference. This week, I’m fine tuning my paper to make it fit more nicely with my panel member’s stuff and going shopping for a conference outfit that should not be loud, made of jean material, or shout out that I’m from Arkansas. I also need new black shoes, since kitty ate the straps off of my only pair of dress black shoes. And, I’m thinking while I’m shopping, why not get a new bag to go with the new shoes? <br /><br />Oh, I’m getting my comp list together for a little summer reading. By September I will be ABD. That’s my hopes.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-40632192226775864512009-01-31T06:48:00.001-08:002009-01-31T06:48:39.277-08:00Hub Cap BurgersSo, Comma, my friend and colleague who is helping me in the Delta, and I went to the Delta to set up our month long project, talk to the students at the local high school, and get the English teacher and principal on board for our upcoming projects. <br />We left the City on the Hill at the best possible time. The entire town was covered in ice with falling trees and most houses without power. The four and something hour trip was good. The roads, for the most part, were clear of ice and debris. We stopped in Conway and had a shamefully gluttonous dinner. Then we stopped for a designer cup of coffee for the road, and all was good. The rest of the trip went quickly as we talked about our project and how we can do this and that. Comma is young and in tune with what kids like, so I’m happy she agreed to help me with both the Feb literacy event and the summer academy. We spent the night in a little town thirty minutes from the impoverished town where I do these literacy events to bring the town’s folk into opportunities to read and write. The hotel was full but they had one room, the presidential suit, and that is where we stayed. I might add, it was nice and warm and the room was large and even though Comma and I shared a King Size bed, we both felt that we were bathing in the lap of luxury. The next morning, I bathed in a huge ass tube with jets and whirlpools and big bubbles. It was all televisionesque. Then, we went to the town.<br />Here’s the thing, the town is dying and there doesn’t seem to be much any one can do. The main street has huge empty buildings, and all through the town there are houses condemned. The town sits on the bank of this big lazy river and while we waited for our appointments, we parked on the bank of the river and watched huge trees, fallen from the ice storm, float by. We also admired the house boats and old renovated homes that were at one time plantation owners’ homes or the summer homes of absentee landowners. <br />In this town, people are set in their ways and there are racial divisions that have such strong historical roots that racism is often blatant. The school has, in the last few years, consolidated with the African American community a few miles away and that has increased racial tension to the point where many have taken their white kids out of school and sent them to private schools in the town up the road. And the really sad thing is that those kids who came from the black schools and those black students who were already at this school are now being whitened, which I will write about later. <br />But, while we were there, we couldn’t find a place to eat lunch, but then we saw this sign, hubcap burgers and we thought, wow, that sounds good. NONONO. First off, the woman who cooked our burgers played video poker between flipping and dressing our sandwiches. She didn’t wash her hands and she smoked—right there under the misspelled sign that said, We cant smok cuse the governer said no smokeing inside of public establismints. Do you see what I mean about the town? Oh, and the hubcap burger place is right next to a motel where you rent by the week and those people came in and with dollars and played video poker and from their constant video playing and rotted teeth and exaggerated movements, I assume them to be tweaking on meth. I mean, in a town where literacy is at the lowest possible mark, and jobs are scarce, and money has to be tight, there are dollars for video poker and money for drugs.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-4342706236700636332009-01-24T09:01:00.001-08:002009-01-24T09:03:23.834-08:00Do I Look OK?After teaching at the Fort on Friday, and, btw, I did get my employee ID and it does say FACULTY, I ran down to Charleston to pick up my grandbabies. My daughter is spoiled to me getting them every other weekend. I oblige because when my children were young, I had no one to give me a little break, so I do that for her; plus, I am one of these grandmothers who needs to see her grandchildren on a regular basis. Anyway, we headed back up the mountain and the wind was blowing hard—I struggled to keep the car where it was supposed to be and The Boy, who talks a lot and loudly, is telling me the story of not getting a library card—mental note: get The Boy a library card—and I’m trying to think of what I am going to do in the Delta and I say, wanna listen to my Ipod and he says, yeah and so he listens and is singing, although the wrong words, and I’m thankful for the reprieve from having to answer a four-year-old’s whys and whens and all of that and then he says, Nana, I gotta pee and I say, didn’t you pee at the house, and he says, yeah, but I gotta pee again and I smell smoke and see the fire on the mountain, a control burn, and I say, this isn’t a good place, and he says, but I gotta pee and by now he’s holding his himself and bouncing. So, I pull over with big trucks passing and big wind blowing and he and I get out and he starts to pee and admires his arch and says look at that and I say, ouch as the wind blows the pee on my pants leg and I get behind him and use my jacket to block the wind off of him and it might seem as though I am peeing but don’t care and when I get him back in the car, I see that two cars have pulled up and after I get him buckled back in, the thought of serial killers and perverts send chills down my back and I rush behind the car and hold my hand up to let them know that we are fine, and I get in the car and lament the fact that I didn’t wear a belt and my damn jeans are falling off and the new panties are even more lose than the old ones, and just as we are about to pull out, a cop walks up to the car and says, is there a problem and the Boy says, is that a real gun and the cop’s chest swells and I say, officer, my grandson here had to go pee and there are no bathrooms in sight and he is only four and I had no choice but to let him use the side of the road as his own personal bathroom. The officer smiled and said, just making sure everything’s okay. As I pull out on the highway, I wonder about okay and appreciate that while everything in my life isn’t okay, it is tolerable.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-84490970090151584582009-01-19T05:25:00.000-08:002009-01-19T05:27:11.121-08:00Sabotage or SuccessAfter this semester, I will be one course away from completing my course work for my PhD. I realize that I have only been in the PhD program two semesters, but instead of doing thesis hours during my masters, I just took the extra composition, rhetoric, and literacy classes to apply to my PhD. This semester, I am nailing down how I’m going to do my dissertation. I’m also seeing the light at the end of this long academic tunnel. If all goes well, I may be Doctor Bitch real soon, or at least before I turn 55. Which brings me to my latest conundrum: I have noticed that when I get close to reaching my goals, or at least in the past, I seem to do this sabotage thing. I'm hoping that old habits are not creeping back. This semester I am teaching five classes, taking two, writing a book, writing a chapter for the esteemed professor, chiseling out the Literacy Academy, and writing a conference paper. Have I bitten off more than I can chew? I certainly hope this is not the case. If I make it this semester, know that I am woman hear me roar.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-13518459511050043702009-01-09T05:28:00.001-08:002009-01-09T05:31:08.410-08:00Back to workThe new semester is upon us, and I, for one, am happy. I’ve done my policy and procedures and am half way finished with one of my day to day syllabi. I also finished my grant proposal for the summer camp and am winding up the memorial book for the vets. I bought books and materials for the classes that I am taking, and I feel really confident that I will get my conference paper ready, the book chapter for the Honorable and Esteemed Professor’s book, and will manage to pull off all the grading and other assignments. The bad news, it’s early and I am out of coffee and don’t want to get dressed to run for a cup, and my belly wants food and I’m not in the mood to cook.<br />On a good note, I bought my books, like I said; I don’t know about you guys, but whenever I buy my new books, I feel like a kid with toys and I cannot leave them alone. I’m the same with my school supplies. I just want to run my hands over the paper, and admire my long pencils with the sharp points and the pens with their tops and full selves. Yep, I’m definitely a nerd when it comes to school stuff. Oh and crayons are on sale again and I bought ten boxes. One can never have enough colors,right?zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-51488207943058506912009-01-02T03:47:00.000-08:002009-01-02T04:04:31.966-08:00Is it my buisness?I suppose I'm old fashioned. I don't mean to be, but I am. For instance, I don't like seeing old women showing their C U next Tuesdays or old men in spandex. But, I also don't understand why a man and a woman in a committed relationship must have boyfriends or girlfriends. Why is it okay for those men or women who have outside relationships to bring the children into it too? Is that okay? My mother's first husband took his older kids over to his girlfriend's house and my sisters still talk about how upsetting it was for them to see their father showing attention to this woman, who, by the way, wasn't a stranger. I remember when my first husband and I divorced. Two years past before I started seeing anyone and I didn't bring him around my children becausee I didn't want to parade men in and out of their lives until I was sure. But, one day, the children and I were on our way to the movies and the man, a very nice man, drove past and stopped and came up to say hello. When he got ready to be on his way, he kissed me on the cheek and my children were upset about this man touching their mom. Later, when they were much older, I started seeing Mr. Zelda and at first, they were weird about it all. Maybe that's just my children and others are luckier to have children who are not bothered when mommie bangs her boyfriend in the room next to where they are sleeping or mommie goes on week long visits to see her boyfriend while leaving child and father at home. I'm not liking this and really it isn't any of my buisness. But when it is put out there in the blogsphere for all to read and see and form opinions over, then I must respond. It just cannot be good for the kids is all I'm saying.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-41448299543865215432008-12-27T08:56:00.001-08:002008-12-27T08:58:36.761-08:00Another yearWhen my children were young, I would begin my shopping early because I had to do it that way. I would buy their many gifts and hide them in my closet and when the day came, I wrapped the small ones, the even smaller went into the stockings, and the big ones, like bikes and such, just went under the tree. But, now that they are older, much older, I give them money and their children get lots and lots of toys. In fact, I buy all of my daughter’s children’s presents. For her two younger children, I am the main source of support, so I am Santa. This year, though, Mr. Zelda has been sick, I have been sick, and we literally put shopping off until Christmas Eve. I know, very bad for my nerves. Well, I got up early and armed with my most comfy pair of sweats and my red card, I headed to all the stores. I bought and bought and bought and when I thought I could buy no more, I stuck the red card in the atm to see what I had and low and behold more shopping potential. I made two more stops and headed home. Mr. Zelda and I wrapped all the gifts that we could and then headed to the daughter’s for some turkey and dressing. I, of course, did the most cooking. We allowed the kids one gift that night and the rest went under the tree or in the closet. Of course, we came back up the hill but bright and early Christmas morning, the grandson called to tell me what Santa brought him. Then he said something so cute. He said, “Nana, Santa wraps like you and he used the same paper and he forgot his bows too.” Yep, his reasoning is kicking in so I suspect it won’t be long until he joins his brother and the many ranks of kids who cross from believing in magic to figuring it all out. It makes me sad; although, I’m happy that they grow up. Until next year, Peace and good fortune to allzelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-72398290587627267632008-12-11T05:21:00.000-08:002008-12-11T05:26:14.754-08:00AM I NUTS TO WANT THIS?Oh man. 44 papers to grade, and test to make and give and grade and two papers to write. I must be nuts. I've not started any of this. Today, I will get it done. Man oh man. Why did I wait so long. Okay, first make the test, second get the copies, third do the analysis of the eight pages of my primary text, fourth, start the final paper of my literacy class, five, make two pies, six, edit and do final drafts of the two papers that I will hopefully write, seven, make cookies for party, eight, go to party, nine, take hubby to hospital for test, ten, give final, eleven, grade some of the final papers, twelve, grade one set of finals thirteen, finish grading papers, fourteen, give second final, fifteen, grade rest of papers and final, sixteen, prepare for next semester. Am I nuts?zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-6754572311944420442008-11-27T06:07:00.000-08:002008-11-27T06:08:19.843-08:00Greetings!Happy Thanksgiving!zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-77822225684679754242008-11-15T05:35:00.000-08:002008-11-15T05:36:14.952-08:00kinky sex?So, I’ve been sick. I ended up with bronchitis a few weeks back, and my doctor gave me antibiotics and steroids. Well, I did two weeks of both and a day after I finished my last dose of steroid, and I was weaned off, I felt like crap. Mr. Zelda went to work, and I went to bed. Apparently, while I slept, my oxygen level dropped way low. When I woke up, I was confused and disoriented. I didn’t know how to use the phone to call, I couldn’t get out from under my blankets, and all I could do was call for a woman who has been dead since 1968. My friend came over to watch a movie, and she has a key, so when I didn’t answer the door, she let herself in and found me in a bad state. Eventually, Mr. Zelda came home, then there were these hot, and I mean hot firemen giving me oxygen, which kind of improved my state. I kept thinking why is only one in bed with and how can I get that one, the cute one, in on the other side of me, and if this is a kinky sex dream, I don’t want to wake up and why is it not hurrying up to the actual kinky sex part. So, into an ambulance I was put and it sped away at a fast speed and loud sirens and I got more oxygen and they started an IV and talked to a guy at the hospital who told them to give me strong IV drugs to bump me up. <br />The short of this story is my oxygen level had dropped to 68 and normal is 95-100. They kept me for a couple of days and gave me more oxygen, IV steroids, and breathing treatments and antibiotics and pain pills. So, I improved, came home, and, after a week, developed huge fever blisters, and they scoped me because the fever blisters were also in my mouth, throat, and they thought my stomach, and they found out that my stump or stoma of a stomach has attached itself through this really rare condition to my freaking chest cavity and is very close to my right lung, which is also where the freaking heart is. So, I’m, after I get rid of bad chest infection, going to have a very minimally risk surgery to put esophagus and stoma back into the right place and they are going to make it where this never happens again. So, that’s my update. Otherwise, I’m good.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-9677160138220619872008-10-06T05:40:00.000-07:002008-10-06T05:41:03.450-07:00She's goneSo, the step daughter left for home, and I breathe. My stepdaughter is 38 and is the biggest prescription drug addict that I have ever. Let’s just say that within two weeks, she tried every drug seeking tactic known to drug addicts. Every day there was a new health tragedy consisting of needing pain medication. By the way, she took, without asking, all of my pain medication, which really pissed me off. In the course of two weeks, she had severe joint pain, a severe headache, massive cramps, fibroid pain, a huge toothache, and severe cramps again. In addition, she thought she had breasts cancer, uterine cancer, and crone’s disease. Yeah, my life sucked as I listened to her many complaints and tried to avoid getting sucked into her hypochondria. In the mean time, she basically ignored her three-year-old son. Her idea of parenting consisted of her staying up all night playing online, while he wandered the living room until he dropped. When I tried to put him to bed, she went in and woke him up. Because, she wanted him up all night so she could get him to sleep all day with her. And, when he didn’t sleep all day, he was left to his own devices until I came home. At her home, her mother-in-law lives with them, and she, we figure, takes care of the baby during the day and the eleven-year-old daughter picks up when she comes home from school. From what we gather, the step daughter just exists to eat drugs, drink vodka, and play on line. By the way, Mouse, the booze you left, she so bogarted. I’m sorry and will replace it soon. But today, I’m free, free, free at last. I can actually leave my purse and my pain meds out again. Yeah!!!zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-88432508340257053512008-08-30T06:32:00.000-07:002008-08-30T06:33:05.268-07:00When a tail is a tellSo I attended the GSE dinner and membership drive. Now there’s this thing about Karma and how it always comes back. Well, about three decades back, I was sitting with my friends in Taco Bell and a very nice looking older woman pulls into the parking lot, made a bee line to the bathroom, and after a time, came out and walked back to the door. My friends and I laughed and laughed at her long white toilet- paper-tail that she had acquired in the bathroom. Oh, over and over we laughed and told the story. I know I’ve told it millions of times. I’ve never wondered why I didn’t take the woman aside and tell her she had a toilet-paper-tail; it certainly is something I’d want to know. Anyway, last night, my belt was cutting into me and so I went to the bathroom to fix the problem. It’s a belt my husband bought for himself and it is greatly too small for him, and when I figured out that my new pants were never going to stay up on their own, I utilized the belt. It’s been years since I’ve worn a belt, and I had forgotten that if it is too tight, it can eat at my skin. So, I undid the belt, and while there, I peed, and when I was pulling my pants up, something must have happened because later that night, I was walking past my Indian friend and he says, Zelda, you have toilet paper. I reached back and found a long tail of white toilet paper hanging from my belt. Oh horrors of horror. So, I’m thinking which was worse, being told that I had a tail, or not telling and my tail amusing people the entire night? BTW, if this had happened to me even ten years ago, I would have died of embarrassment; last night I grabbed the tail rolled it up and said, I should be embarrassed but not so much.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-3327232052674329202008-08-26T15:14:00.000-07:002008-08-26T15:16:31.167-07:00The Kitty is in the houseSo, I my kitty has lived with us for twenty four hours. I went to pick her up and she was a t very nice foster home. There were a lot of cats and baby kitties and giant cats and a big horse, and she seemed to be lost in all the confusion. When I tried to pick her up, she ran. I know it will take time but I'm sure she will be a really friendly kitty; although, right now she is playing hard to get. Go meet her at <a href="http://ginger-zelda1.blogspot.com/">http://ginger-zelda1.blogspot.com/</a>zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-7361439450696013722008-08-18T05:56:00.000-07:002008-08-20T04:41:22.170-07:00NormalSchool will be starting soon and I must say that I take great pleasure in knowing that my routine will resume. Over the summer, I have taught Summer school, wrote a thesis, studied for comps, and have chased after my grandbabies. I am ready for morning coffee in my office and, while there, greeting the various faces that are essentially strangers but familiar. I also need to learn. I’m at this age where I question every single move that I make. For instance I question this entire coming back to school thing. Here I am in the PhD program and I keep asking, am I too old? WTF, I know I’m old but does it matter. Okay, this can easily be a high jacked post so back to what is normal. So, I’m ready to hear the clappers going up and down the hall, see the fresh scrubbed faces of my freshmen, and smell the nice fragrance of youth. Oh, and I do really really miss my office mates. Maybe, just maybe this year I’ll get a female for our office. We can then put up posters of flowers and cats and other silly girlly things. NOT!zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-70211375470278848292008-08-10T13:22:00.001-07:002008-08-10T13:22:21.792-07:00World Lit Comps.So, I’m doing my reading for my World Lit Comps. I’ve chosen the Greeks, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, and some Sophists. I’ve also chosen two works by Ovid, two by Homer, Gilgamesh, Genesis, and Exodus. I think that will cover the Classics; although, technically Gilgamesh, Genesis, and Exodus are not really classics. For Eighteenth century: Oladauh Equiano, Lady Montague, Evelina, Joseph Fielding, Frankenstein, two works by Pope, two works by Swift, Hume’s Dialogues, 2 of Austen, Rousseau, Wilmot, and Wycherley. That should cover both areas. <br />I’m doing Psychoanalytic theory and Orientalism and will throw in some feminism and trauma theory. I think I can do this.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-34013971201799620062008-08-05T12:01:00.000-07:002008-08-05T12:02:34.795-07:00A BreathI finished my thesis, which was actually finished, but I re-read it and found things and worked on the things; finally, though, I turned it into the three. I had hoped to get it over with but understand that the doctors have a life and plans and that reading my thesis and marking it up good will take time, so I’m looking at the end of this month or the beginning of next before I can defend. In addition, my World Lit. Comps are on hold because the three who are on that committee are scattered abroad. So, I’m looking at the first of September for the comps too. <br />Having turned in the thesis, well, I feel lost. I mean, I’ve been researching and working on this thing in some form or another for over a year and now I’m thinking I should feel guilty for writing on my blog instead of on my thesis. When does the haunting stop? <br />I did put all the research in one corner of my living room so that when I revise, if I need, I’ll have the books and articles on hand. I think I’ve had Foucault’s prison book checked out for over a year.<br />There are these caterpillars all over my big tree and they are eating the leaves and the birds are going crazy eating the caterpillars. I wonder if it hurts really badly to be eaten by a robin? And, I wonder if the tree leaves fill the pain of the little holes left by the caterpillars? <br />Geeze, I need something to do.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10997370.post-42330430596400873232008-08-01T11:24:00.000-07:002008-08-01T11:28:41.373-07:00I see the lightSo, I’m sitting here waiting for the chicken to cook so I can make soup. Of late, I’ve been trying to cook large amounts of food that will last a few days so I won’t have to have the stove on or waste time cooking. So, I made large amounts of spaghetti, this casserole stuff, and today soup. If all goes well, I won’t have to cook again for a week. Also, I’ve been living in my pjs and yesterday, I realized that the pjs had quite a few food stains on both bottoms and tops, so I actually had to wash clothes. If I had money, I’d pay for services so I don’t have to interrupt my studying for the world lit comps. Sigh. Soon, this will all just be one of those academic memories like end of the semester crunch or walking in the rain without an umbrella. Okay, back to work.zelda1http://www.blogger.com/profile/04212809913449846878noreply@blogger.com0