Stolen Persimmons

The other day I was running and I noticed a smashed persimmon on the sidewalk in my neighborhood, which lo and behold had fallen from a persimmon tree on my neighbor's (unfenced) lawn. There were, in fact, many persimmons on the ground, and I didn't take them but I did take note. Today there were persimmons at the farmers' market, but I couldn't quite justify buying them. There were, after all, FREE persimmons just a few blocks from my apartment. They were FREE, of course, only in the sense that they were small enough to carry and not nailed down, but still, the combination of two persimmon recipes in my Mennonite cookbook and perfectly good persimmons rotting away on my neighbor's lawn rankled, and this afternoon, stymied by my Frege paper, I went over there and took them. After all, the Mennonites say that "Giving someone a persimmon pudding is giving them a gift of love." Surely there could be no wrong in saving these persimmons from the sin of waste. I barely even had to step off the sidewalk! And, since I didn't end up with quite enough pulp to make the pudding in question, I'm probably going to go back tomorrow. Possibly in the dead of night.

But this experience, combined with my making apple butter last week (out of legitimately purchased, not stolen fruit), makes me really want a food mill. A food mill, it seems, can simultaneously mash and strain things. After forty five minutes trying to force persimmons through a fine mesh sieve with a soup spoon, I'm thinking a food mill is just what's needed. Apple butter is so easy (apart from that detail), so cheap, so universally beloved, and so low in sugar compared to other home jamming projects, that I see no reason not to make it every year forever, so a food mill might be a good investment. Or birthday gift.

Last night I went to Amity's for a debate party that turned out to be just me, Amity and her beau and her roommate, and one other HPS student. Cufflinks is in Indianapolis for a wedding (those X-ians sure are marryalish - a word Spellcheck has just approved, though Google does not) so I was able to let loose at during the debates with my liberal commentary. This made me feel excitingly daring - I should have thrown in a few "G.D."s for good measure. The debate itself was less exciting than I would have liked, though I think our guy did a pretty good job and it's nice to see McCain sticking to his strategy of misrepresenting and distorting Obama's record and positions instead of talking about his own. Amity has invited me over for the VP debate as well, which ought to be exciting. Especially if they get Tina Fey to be Palin again.

Weekend

The beginning of the fall semester is a pretty great time. Everyone's around, but no one's too busy yet, so there's a lot of time to just sort of enjoy things. On Friday afternoon I met a bunch of colleagues for beers at Bear's, which turned into pizza, after which I rode my bike over to Cufflinks' for a poker game. We had a decent table - seven people - and the game took hours and hours. I kept going all in, hoping I'd get out so I could go to sleep, but each time I tried it I ended up winning the hand. Even though I didn't get any really good cards all night - I think I had a straight at one point but that's it - I actually won! It was my second time winning at poker, which makes me really happy.

On Saturday Cufflinks and I went to the Farmers' Market, which is beginning to herald the fall with pumpkins, apples, and red peppers. I bought five pounds of Jonathan apples and when I got home I made apple butter from the Fannie Farmer cookbook. There's not much that's nicer than apple butter, and now I have seven jars all ready to be eaten on oatmeal pancakes and given away as gifts. I only have two jars left and I'm so tempted to buy more - there are all kinds of other exciting things I'd like to try making, like tomato marmalade and pumpkin butter - but at some point I guess enough is enough. It's such a fun activity though!

Last night Cufflinks and his roommates and I all had pizza and watched the Muppet Movie, which I actually haven't seen in years. Thom's girlfriend is visiting and she'd never seen it, which is astonishing. She didn't even recognize any of the characters. Being in the presence of someone who has never experienced the Muppets is a strange experience.

Today I have to run 8 miles, and then tonight Thom and his girlfriend are making dinner for everyone, which should be fun. I have a bunch of reading to do today but I don't feel too pressed. Plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast and coffee. I love this time of year.

You'll say Yes'm and you'll like it.

This is my first semester as an A.I. (what at most schools is called a TA) and it should have started off great. I really like the professor I'm assisting, and the course is Thinking and Reasoning, which for the first three weeks or so is just propositional logic, which I could do in my sleep. I lead two sections a week, grade quizzes and homeworks, and hold office hours to which no one ever shows up. No problem, right?

The trouble is that my students don't seem to know how to behave in a college classroom. I have people talking when I'm talking and even talking during quizzes. What's worse, I have one student who's been making what seem like inappropriate comments - pointing out chalk on my skirt, using "I buy you coffee because I think you're good looking :)" as a solution to homework - and bringing it up several times in class. It was clear last week that at least one of the other students was put off by this guy's attitude towards me.

I told some of my professors, who were sympathetic and had some good suggestions. There was a common thread, however - Jonathan said not to wear high heels. Sandy said to wear pants and a jacket. Joan said she'd never teach without shoulder pads. If you want respect, they seemed to be telling me, you're gonna have to butch it up.

On Thursday, Jonathan was out of town, so my co-AI and I had to lead the lecture - 80 students. I had nightmares the night before, and the day of the lecture I wore pants, sneakers, and a jacket with shoulder pads - small ones. And that day my students hit a new low.

I was whistled at. In lecture.

I didn't know what to do; I was struck dumb. I gave the class a cold look and started blushing. I was burning up in my stupid jacket but I couldn't move to take it off.

J stepped in and told the class that there would be none of that, that no one deserves to be treated that way, and that if such behavior persisted he would have to take disciplinary measures. I was so grateful to him and from then on the class was all right, but I was terrified about my sections today. Now they'd seen that

1. They could get to me
2. I needed someone else - a male - to step in and defend me. I hadn't done it myself.
   

Since the butch thing hadn't worked, today I showed up for section in high heels and a lacy blouse. I did, however, have a plan to keelhaul all mutineers. If Problem Guy (or anyone else) gave me guff, I'd ask to speak to him after class. He'd come up to my desk, where I'd be sorting through the quizzes. I'd look up and say, "My job is to teach you. Your job is to listen respectfully. If you don't do your job, neither I nor your classmates will be able to do ours. So get it together."* If he'd played dumb, I would have given him a withering look and said, "Don't do that."

But nothing happened! My sections went off like a dream. I was brusque but not bitchy, and they acted like civilized humans. I didn't even have to give my speech.

I don't know if my problems are over. But for today, I am feeling so much better about things.

*Does my speech remind you of something? Perhaps Father's speech in Bedtime for Frances? Me too. Oh, well.

Election

Grandma A. observed recently that there has been very little on any of our family's blogs regarding the election. In my case, this is because the subject makes me frothingly angry. I am hoping to run the half marathon next week wearing an Obama t-shirt, partially because I imagine it will inspire onlookers to call out, "Yes you can!" I'm also probably going to go ring bells and talk to morons swing voters with my friend Susan's beau. (How could anyone possibly not know whom they're voting for? Don't these people watch TV?) In the meantime, I find this very cheering:

Magic Beans

Living with others is, unsurprisingly, quite difficult at times. Most of my vexations living with K come from the fact that I am a total control freak - I would really rather do absolutely everything myself than run the risk that things will not be done My Way. Last year, this meant that I did all the cooking, since I didn't want to eat nondelicious things, and all of the grocery shopping, since I was doing all the cooking. I also washed most of the dishes, because if things were left in the sink I'd have to wash them before I could use the sink.

This year I decided we should try to figure out some more equitable arrangement, but already I am regretting it. K did the grocery shopping one week and came back with brownie mix, Value butter (one step below store brand, it comes in a one pound block instead of nice measured 1/4 pound sticks), and some shriveled yellow apples. "These were really cheap," she said. "They're not very good, but I like 'em okay, so I'll eat them if you don't want to." Gee. Thanks.

I recognize that we're grad students and therefore need to pinch the occasional penny. But how is one to use butter that doesn't come in demarcated sticks? What is the point of spending any money at all on bad apples?

The only thing I have seen K cook for herself all semester has been frozen corn. I think she puts cumin on it. Need I say more?