Yes We Can.

Last night I took a break from not-working and obsessively refreshing CNN.com and took my computer downstairs (I was at Josh's) to sit on the basement steps and watch this one more time:


I watched it, and it made me tear up a little - yes we can, yes we can, we must, we will. And then I came back upstairs and found Josh's roommates watching McCain give his concession speech. I teared up several times during Obama's speech. Today is a good day. We won an election, and we're winning back this country.

I've been supporting Obama for four years, ever since he spoke at the DNC in 2004, but I never really believed we were going to pull this off. Up until the last minute I felt sure young voters wouldn't turn out or the GOP would pull some dirty trick. But we won. We won.

I'm so proud.

A visit from the Second Philosopher (Part II)

Wow, I got all caught up in the drama of my Big Decision back there and completely forgot the rest of my story. By the way, since I have no internet at home, I'm in a Christian coffeehouse that's having a Reggae Night, and there are some fratboys a few feet away from me talking about abortion and how Obama is never going to be president, Americans are going to come to their senses any second now, so to counteract all that I have Steve Earle coming out of my headphones really loud. (No lectures please.)

Anyway, Penelope Maddy and I discussed my future and so that's all taken care of, I'm probably moving to New York. Then she gave her talk, which was really good. Since I'd read the paper it was based on and I'm knee-deep in her new book, I was able to follow the whole thing, which made me super happy. I'd prepared a few questions beforehand and when it came time for the q-and-a I raised my hand, but before I was called on a visiting professor (a super big shot guy) asked my question! And then before I was able to recover one of the other grad students asked my backup question!! I was so upset and couldn't think of a third question, so I didn't get to ask anything. Major drag.

After the talk we went to the fanciest restaurant in Bloomington, Tallent, for dinner. I was especially glad to have had a chance to talk to Maddy one-on-one beforehand, because the dinner was attended by some of the biggest personalities in the department and it was hard to get a word in. I had roasted beet salad with goat cheese and rabbit served on a bed of something absolutely delicious. The thing about this restaurant is that the menu basically lists each ingredient in the dish, and they're all things I've never heard of: walleye, bagna cauda, harissa, ham praline. (What do you suppose ham praline is?)

I had an espresso after dinner (which wasn't very nice and had no crema (as Jeffery Steingarten says, espresso without crema is not espresso) because in addition to being Penelope Maddy Day, yesterday was also Halloween and I had festivities to attend. (I'd been so focused on Maddy's visit I'd honestly forgotten about Halloween and kept being surprised to see people dressed in kilts and John McCain masks - a costume that made my beau rather annoyed.) I went home, put on my pretty new shoes and a dress, and went with Joshua to a square dance at the home of one of the members of the Fatted Calf String Band. We only stayed for one dance, which was not very good - basically all I got to do was be swung, which made me really dizzy, especially since Josh always likes to throw in a twirl after we promenade, for flair and because on this occasion I was wearing a twirly skirt. After that we went to Susan's for a little bit of her party - I brought gingerbread made with Laurie Colwin's recipe, which was a big hit as usual. It was not really as much party as I would have liked but it had been a very long day.

Today was Free Soup Day at the Farmers' Market, which is awesome - restaurants give free samples and recipes of their soups featuring local ingredients. We went pretty late and most places were out, but I got to taste three soups, which is not bad, and I got a recipe for a butternut squash soup that I might try.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to volunteer for Obama, which hopefully I'll actually do. There were tons of volunteers out today, which is good. Home stretch!

By the way, today I was looking at some of my old Action Girl comics and thought to myself: "Wonder what Sarah Dyer is up to these days?" Turns out she's cooking, crafting, raising a kid, and writing a very enjoyable (to me) blog.

A visit from the Second Philosopher

Yesterday was Penelope Maddy's colloquium talk, which I'd been looking forward to for ages because I find her work very interesting (though I don't think I'll ever be a Second Philosopher myself), but also because she teaches at UC Irvine, where I'm planning to apply. I signed up to attend the dinner afterwards, but Josh had the good idea of asking her to have coffee, as well, and happily she agreed.

Maddy and I had met before when she gave the logic lecture my senior year at Smith, and she read some of my undergrad thesis and said very nice things about it. She's incredibly smart and really generous - reading the thesis of a total stranger is a mighty generous move, as is giving advice and time to someone with no claims on her at all. Maddy and I sat in the IMU Starbucks and discussed my future, and she had a lot of good things to say.

For one thing, she pointed out that grad school doesn't last all that long (she called it 'a blip'), so it's okay if the location is less than ideal. How long until I have my PhD - maybe five, six years at the outside. I can endure a little discomfort for five or six years if I have to.

She also disagreed with Joan, who said that I might make enemies if I apply to CUNY and then turn them down a second time. Maddy doesn't think I should worry about this, but she also thinks that CUNY is where I need to be. Apply to CUNY and Irvine, she suggested, and if I get into Irvine they'll fly me out to visit and if I love it I can go, but really I ought to be in New York. And in my heart I know she's probably right.

It's been suggested that I really just want to go to New York and CUNY isn't really the right place for me. This is backwards; CUNY is one of the best places in the world for what I want to do, and the thought of living in New York fills me with dread. But people have done much harder things than spend five years in New York on a shoestring. So now I am devoting a few minutes a day to positive visualization: I'm picturing myself running around Central Park, studying in the library, wandering through grocery stores in Chinatown, riding the subway. I'm thinking about how close I'll be to my family, and maybe Andrea will be in New York next year, and I'm sure TMBG will have the occasional free concert.

I'm looking at apartments. I'm thinking about budgets and jobs. I can do this.

(If they'll let me.)

Pumpkin carving and Quaker Meeting

Over the summer Josh and I gave a small dinner party for our friend Scott and his girlfriend Patty, who had just moved to Bloomington. They'd been saying for awhile that they'd love to have us over once they got a bit more settled, and then last night we finally got to go over to their place for a pumpkin carving party. Their house is gorgeous - I'm so envious of anyone who can make a space look homey. Patty's approach seems to involve a lot of textiles - they had fabric draped over their coffee table, quilts hanging on the walls, and blankets everywhere. Size also seems to help - they have a very large lamp and a huge comfy chair, which sort of fills the space. Also plants. I'll never be able to do that sort of thing myself. (Patty also decants everything into glass, like Holly Sturgis - their kitchen is full of Bell jars containing rice and lentils of various sorts and so on. I'm so envious!)

We had a very nice time carving pumpkins, chatting, and drinking hot cider. Socializing in couples always makes me feel so grown-up somehow, and Scott is one of my favorite colleagues (technically he's in HPS, like Josh, but his office is in our building and I always think of him as a philosopher) and Patty is very sweet and down-to-earth.

This morning I rode my bike three miles over hill and dale to the Bloomington Friends Meeting, which was very pleasant. I used to go to Quaker meeting regularly in Northampton, but the meetinghouse here is prohibitively far away; three miles isn't that far, I realize, but it's so hilly! I am afraid it's probably too much effort to go every week. This meeting has the children sit for the first 15 minutes, which is nice in theory, but these Quakers appear to be very much of the reproducing variety - for those 15 minutes a good 10% of the room seemed to be under 5. The traditional Quaker silent contemplation is, I find, not aided by half a dozen piping toddler voices. It's also hard for me to concentrate on anything when there are babies in my line of sight; all I can think about is babiesbabiesbabies. But then the babies were taken away and we had more the usual sort of thing, although even then these were the chattiest Quakers I've ever seen. Not five minutes went by without someone standing up and sharing. I am very pro-sharing in meeting, as a rule, but what with one thing and another I was unable to really get into a proper spiritual groove. Maybe next time.

Cozy

Sitting in my well-lit kitchen, working at the small, round table with the brown and yellow vintage tablecloth I got at a garage sale, reading The Foundations of Arithmetic and waiting for my oatmeal bread, which is making the apartment smell warmly of baking and molasses, to come out of the oven. When it does, I will have a slice with gingered butternut squash soup and a cup of Earl Grey. I am wearing my soft new beige sweater and brown corduroy pants. Outside my window, the sky is pink and purple over my neighbors' rooftops. This is a good way to spend an October evening.

Before they make me run

Woke up at 5:15 yesterday and went to Indianapolis to run the half marathon. I'd been training for three months using Hal Higdon's training plan, so even though I had only ever run ten miles before, I was fairly confident that I could at least finish. My father suggested this plan, and I have great faith in structure; I truly believe that following instructions leads to success. And in this case it did.

The course was very pretty: the leaves are changing and we ran through some very posh neighborhoods full of McCain/Palin lawn signs and an agreeable park with a big blue lake. It was fairly flat, which was awesome because, having trained in hilly Bloomington, I was able to power up what few hills there were and pass a lot of people. In fact I spent most of the race passing people, which was fun - I started off in the 10 minute mile group and ended up running 8:44 miles, so the first four miles in particular were spent just passing everyone. Around six miles I started to worry that I had gone too quickly. I wasn't wearing a watch and, much to my dismay, there were no pacers at the mile markers, so I really had no clue how fast I was going. Once I hit seven miles everything was smooth sailing, and I spent the last mile and a half or so just letting it all out. I had an excellent iPod playlist - I crossed the finish line to "Reach for the Stars" by S-Club 7, which was fun - but for the most part I was so much in the zone I barely noticed anything. Except the pain in my knees and ankles, a little bit.

It's kind of sad, but Josh, who had driven me to Indy, didn't see me cross the finish line. Partially this was because I was merely a blur, but partially it was because neither of us expected me to come in under two hours. At 1:57, when I finished, he was still looking for a spot to watch from. (1:57, I might add, was merely my clock time; my official time, which started when I crossed the start, rather than when the gun went off, was 1:54). I was pretty tired and stiff afterwards, but after an afternoon of watching Scrubs, napping, and reading Frege, I was in good enough shape to attend my colleague Andrew's cowboy-themed hootenanny. It was a good party: the Werewolf was there, fresh from his new job at Ohio State, and as much of a sad sack as ever, and there was a small bonfire and some friendly, highly allergenic dogs, and some decent beer.

Today I woke up shortly before ten, then slept from about eleven to 3:30. I am honestly pretty appalled by this but I suppose a case could be made that I needed it. My next athletic goal will be to run a full marathon, which I suppose I'll start training for after I find out where I'm living next year. Part of this training will include another half marathon, and I'll be moving up to Higdon's intermediate training plan. I'd really like to try to get down to 8 minute miles - can the runners in the audience indicate whether this is possible?

Weekend

A pleasant weekend, largely spent in nesting-mode, which I enjoy although I sometimes miss the hard-partying days of yore. On Friday we went to see two guys in my department play at a Christian coffeehouse. They were doing selections from Phil's concept album based on The Great Divorce. Like so many things, it was much more religious than I would have liked, and although Phil is unquestionably talented I resented being made to think about hell on a Friday night. Cufflinks was more enthusiastic than I was; he compared the music favorably to Jars of Clay. This is my life now apparently - spending time with people who think "This sounds like Jars of Clay" is a compliment.

After the set we came back to my place and watched Goodbye, Lenin, which I'd been wanting to see for a long time. It was quite good, although I think it says a lot about Germany that they consider it a comedy. Of course, science has shown that Germans find everything funny, so perhaps that explains it.

To the market on Saturday where I purchased apples and a pumpkin (don't yet have any plans for it, though), and where I snapped these gentlemen engrossed in conversation:

On Sunday I ran ten miles, which was actually pretty okay although it was very hot (I cleverly decided to go out at 1, so it was the heat of the day and the sun was in my eyes half the time) and I had counted on the Rail Trail having water fountains, which it did not. I had long wanted to go there, but it's miles away. This of course made it perfect for yesterday's purposes. Now I'm in taper mode and on Saturday I will run the half marathon! I am pretty excited although I don't relish having to wake up at 5 to drive to Indy.

Today I don't have class so I'm baking bread and this afternoon I'm serving at the Community Kitchen. My apartment smells like sourdough rye. I'd better go check the timer.

More thoughts on protesting

Just got back from a 9-mile run. As my runs have gotten longer, I've had to face the fact that I live in a pretty small town, and it's hard to map a route that's long enough without running into a highway or a twisty-turny confusing suburb-place. I tend to get lost a lot. So for today, instead of trying to find a 9-mile loop, I just did my old faithful 4.5 mile loop twice. I was afraid this would be discouraging - it was not so long ago that 4.5 miles seemed pretty long to me, and to get to the end and have to start over sounded awful - but it was not. Though my legs hurt a lot now and around the halfway point I got a serious stitch in my side, I felt pretty good and finished strong.

The annoying thing was that on this loop I pass the Catholic church where I sometimes attend, and today they were having a big anti-abortion protest. CLA posted recently on an anti-gay protest at her school, and when I read her post, I was pretty quick to condemn the school's Pride organization for turning what sounded like a small, harmless demonstration into a big confrontational scene. No one profits from this, I argue, because no one is ever going to change anyone else's mind.

But these protestors, who were just standing quietly and holding signs that said "ABORTION KILLS CHILDREN" (no bloody graphics, though, for which I was grateful), really got under my skin. I spent the next seven miles rehashing every argument, retracing my steps. I do this quite often - I would say I do a good thorough think-through on the abortion issue at least once or twice a week. I read about it online. I (very rarely) discuss it with people I know. It's important to me not to become set in my ways on this topic - I don't want to be pro-choice out of dogma or habit. I want to stay freshly convinced.

I had a frustrating conversation with Krista the other day. She remarked that even though she was personally pro-life, she didn't think that abortion should be illegal, but that it should be an individual decision. I tried to explain that this was the very definition of pro-choice, but I'm not sure she was convinced. It was frustrating, because it seemed like she had pretty much the same instincts I do, but she's swallowed some party line and absorbed a lot of misinformation on the mainstream pro-choice position, and so she allies herself with the anti-choicers.

Anyway, now I'm thinking - what's the point of protesting? It's really not a forum in which meaningful debate or exchanges of information can flourish. Is it basically a collective version of a bumper sticker? I used to protest the war in high school, and it seemed like a good thing to do, but what was the point? What were we hoping to achieve?

In a way, of course, the protesters outside my church today did achieve something - they made me go back through all my arguments and see if they still hold up. And they do. I found it almost irresistably tempting not to shout out: "Banning abortion kills women!" but I refrained. There is almost never any point to rudeness. Still, this event has unsettled me, and I'm still feeling that there's little point in trying to meaningfully exchange ideas with anyone, because people tend to be so stuck in their ways that by the time they're in high school they're sold on their whole life philosophy.

Recipe: Savory Squash Bread Pudding

One of the many nice things about Smith was that, unlike some colleges you hear about, we really had pretty excellent food and it was served in a pleasant, homey environment. One of my favorite Smith desserts was the coconut bread pudding. Whenever we had it, I'd take a big paper cupful back to my room for later and end up chirring it all within the hour. It was good.

Since then, I've had one or two other delicious bread pudding experiences - Susan brought a pumpkin bread pudding with cream cheese sauce to a dinner party I hosted and Amity had a really good bread pudding with bourbon sauce at her St. Patrick's day bash - but until Thursday I had never tasted a savory bread pudding. My excellent new cookbook "Simply in Season," written by Mennonites and given to me by my Aunt Grace, contains a recipe for savory squash bread pudding, which struck me as an admirable use for the butternut squash I got at the Farmers' Market last week.

The only trouble with this dish is that it's hard to reheat without a microwave. Steaming it for a few minutes seems to work okay - it keeps it fairly moist. However, if you have a microwave you won't have this problem. It also makes the house smell really nice.

Peel and cut into 1/2 inch pieces:
3 cups butternut squash.
Bake at 400 degrees until tender, about 12 minutes. Remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350. (If you are so inclined, it might be a good idea to puree the squash. I did not do this because I didn't feel like dirtying the food processor. It's certainly fine to leave it in chunks, but it might be neat to have it more integrated into the custard.)

In a frying pan, saute:
1 cup onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
with a bit of olive oil until tender. Remove from heat.

Whisk together:
3 large eggs
2 large egg whites
2 cups milk
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
salt
pepper
nutmeg or other spice (I used garam masala, which worked well)
Stir in squash, onion, and garlic.

Pour this mixture over:
9 cups day old bread (I used French bread from Wal-Mart because not even I am going to bake a whole loaf of bread just for bread pudding. Sourdough might also be good.)
Stir gently to combine and let stand 10 minutes.

Sprinkle on top:
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese.
Bake at 350 degrees until custard is set and top is lightly browned, 45 minutes. Serves 4-6.

This would be a nice dish for an autumnal dinner party if you are not inviting anyone with a phobia of plant-based foods or soggy bread. A spinach salad or some bitter greens like kale or broccoli rabe would help to mitigate the heavy breadiness of it all. A fruit or bittersweet chocolate dessert - nothing too heavy and nothing cakey - would make an admirable conclusion to the meal.

The need to sneeze

Systems can be constructed. But what is once standing must remain, or else the whole system must be dismantled in order that a new one may be constructed. Science only comes to fruition in a system. We shall never be able to do without systems. Only through a system can we achieve complete clarity and order. No science is in such command of its subject matter as mathematics and can work it up into such a perspicuous form; but perhaps also no science can be so enveloped in obscurity as mathematics, if it fails to construct a system.
-Gottlob Frege, "Logic in Mathematics"

The man loves his systems. You know, I respect that.

Finally met with Joan yesterday about transferring, a meeting I'd been dreading for months and months. Unlike the Badger, who seemed dismayed to think I might leave and who wanted to think of ways to keep me, Joan seemed highly unsurprised and indifferent. Her reaction was basically, "You really aren't doing amazingly well here, so maybe you should go." This of course I already knew, and if I were doing amazingly well here I'd be much less inclined to leave. The bad thing is that my lack of amazingness means that Joan can't write me much of a recommendation. The pressure is on for me to do something spectacular in this Frege class. As if that hadn't already been my main priority. Joan was not terribly positive about my chances of getting in anywhere but CUNY. She says maybe it won't be so bad, and maybe even if it is it will be worth it in the long run.

I am sick. I've missed several running days and I feel a constant desperate desire to sneeze. Last night for dinner I had ready-made soup from a box, frozen garlic bread, and Jello Cook and Serve vanilla pudding. I just had the exact same thing for lunch today. Now I am so full of preservatives I will never biodegrade.

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?

Gentle Reader:

The other day I found myself in the section of the public library containing all the books on etiquette, and, because I am fond of that sort of thing, I took one out - Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior, by Judith Martin. Later that day, Joshua came over to watch some Twin Peaks (we watched the final episode last night and oh, my goodness, it was terrifying!) but he picked up the book and was immediately hooked. We spent the entire evening reading about correct forms of address, formal dinner parties, and thank you notes.

The correct fur to wear when one is in mourning is sable. It is considered vulgar to so much as dip one finger in your finger bowl, which is brought in on the dessert plate. Footmen are generally addressed by their first names. This book is wonderful!

The next day, Joshua went and got a copy of Miss Manners' Guide for the Turn-of-the-Millennium from the library, and we spent some of last night and several hours this afternoon reading side by side, occasionally laughing out loud or sharing a particularly interesting fact or witty remark (I love it when she's mean to her readers). Today was also the day I noticed that all this reading had begun to alter the way we're talking to each other, which is kind of hilarious. I was left on such tenterhooks by the last episode last night and now I really want to watch Fire Walk With Me, but it is by no means certain that we will be able to tear ourselves away from our reading.

I wish it were easier to find appropriate gloves these days.

Progress

Today I told the Badger that I'm thinking of transferring. I'd been dreading this, since I don't relish telling my professors that I think I can do better, but it kind of slipped out - he was giving me a ride home after our German group, and he asked me (apropos of an offhand comment I'd made earlier) whether I ever considered leaving the program. I said yes.

The Badger told me that he believes very strongly in academic freedom, which means that if I want to leave, he will support me and help me. He also said that if I don't get into any other programs and have to stay at IU, he will still work with me and help me in any way he can, and he won't think less of me or think that he's only my second choice. This meant a great deal to me.

However, he also made it clear that he does not want me to leave, and the one condition he put on his helping me is that at some point, when I'm ready, I must tell him exactly why. Even if it means naming names. (Thankfully there are no names to name - that is not the problem. It did, however, give me pause.)

He also indicated that he will take steps to keep me here - he wants to talk to Joan about how this might be accomplished, though he promised to wait until I've spoken with her. He also suggested that I might be loaned out to CUNY on a trial basis, to see whether I like it. If he can somehow help me arrange that it might be a very good idea. After all, I can't move around indefinitely, and I can't keep CUNY forever on hold. If I transfer there, I strongly feel it must be forever. So if I can test the waters first - see if I can live in New York, if I can see myself working with Priest - that would make the decision a lot easier.

I've been so lucky to have such good mentors throughout my academic career. Even as early as middle school I had smart grownups looking out for me and helping me, and I am profoundly grateful for that. I am especially grateful that Jay, my college adviser, is still willing to help me now that I am no longer his student, and that the Badger is willing to help me even though it may mean that I won't be anymore.

And Promenade!

I just got finished making pesto from farmers' market basil and garlic, co-op pine nuts, Kroger olive oil and Wal-Mart Parmesan cheese. The cheese may not have come pre-grated from a jar, but it's not the best I've ever had and it makes me think about the futility of combining good ingredients with less-good ones. It seems wasteful. Like mixing $40 French gin with Rose's lime juice (I'm thinking the only drink that would properly make use of fancy gin is a martini - otherwise you may as well drink Seagram's. But I may be wrong.) I also feel bad about using the food processor instead of chopping by hand or using a mortar and pestle like it says to here, but what're you going to do.

The pesto is for tomorrow, when Cufflinks and I are having our friend Scott and his girlfriend over for dinner. Once again, Cufflinks' annoying food issues mean that I can't have everything exactly the way I want it - once again he wants to have mashed potatoes, even though it's in the 80's. I am excited about the wine I got, though - they were having a tasting in the store and it was really good. I like having dinner parties and I like these people, so I am excited. It's really tempting to make the dessert now, but instead I'm writing this and then working on my Frege paper.

On Friday I went with some philosophers and cog sci folks to the drive-in to see Batman. My colleague Matt and his wife and 3 month old baby were there, so a lot of the pre-movie conversation was pretty baby-centric. Babies are so engrossing. Apparently babies can read now - isn't that distressing? Why would you need your baby to be able to read? Can't we just leave the pre-verbal children alone to do their drooly thing for a bit before starting in with the academic pressure? (My colleague's baby can't read, for the record, and they have no plans to start him any time soon. He is therefore doomed.)

Last night Cufflinks and I went to a square dance hosted by the old-time band we see every week at the Runcible Spoon. It was a ton of fun - we danced every dance (well, Cufflinks did - I sat one out) and by the end we were totally experts. Practically every hipsterbilly in town was there including a bunch of little kids with far-out names like Meridian running around on the dance floor. We didn't know anybody there (Josh knows the band only slightly) but that doesn't matter much at a dance.

Quick Linkage

A very moving essay on late-term abortion, the Achilles heel of the reproductive rights movement, from a woman who learned that her child would not be able to survive outside the womb, decided to terminate, and eventually got infected when the fetus died. Stories like these, from actual women who have lived the experiences the rest of us feel free to opine about, should be required reading.

On a similar note, I have already contacted my representative about this proposal, which could severely limit low-income women's access to contraception. You should, too.

Nausea

It's been a week since I started my new medicine, and I have been nauseous almost the entire time. I haven't enjoyed eating anything or wanted to eat anything in seven days, a depressing situation. I'm sure the medicine wouldn't make me quite so ill if I took it on a full stomach, but I can't bear to put anything in my stomach since each day I'm still queasy from the previous day's dose.

What this means is that if there is anything I can stand to put in my mouth, I think I'm entitled to do so, even if that means subsisting on pancakes for days at a time. This morning, in a fit of optimism, I went to the farmers' market and bought peaches, tomatoes, and rhubarb, and when I got home I baked two gorgeous golden loaves of whole wheat bread. When they cool a bit I am going to make every effort to have a tomato sandwich.

When I got back from my trip to Buffalo, I found that my apartment had been invaded by fruit flies. This is enraging since my apartment is sprayed for pests every month. If I am going to be subjected to constant doses of poison which will lodge in my fatty tissues and deform my children, I had darn well better get a pristine, bug-free apartment out of the deal. But they are damnably resilient. I got some fly strips, but the only kind they had at the store are meant to hang, which means that I keep getting my bangs stuck in them. I also can't open any of my cabinets, since the fly paper hangs from precariously hung chopsticks and corkscrews. Very annoying.

This weekend is a conference on philosophy and robots, which it seems unlikely I will attend, but Susan has invited me to join her at the party afterwards so I guess I'm doing that. I strongly hope no one asks me about any of the talks; if they do I will say I was busy translating Schiller all day. If I put in half an hour or so that ought to be enough to make it true. In a way I'm eager for the semester to start because I am awfully unmotivated these days.