Yes, It's a Doctored Photograph to Make Her Fingers Look Longer (But She Hates the Color). Nikkerdoodles is Going to Get Married!

My dental recovery day turned out to be interesting on multiple levels. One, I woke up feeling little to no pain. Two, I talked to Chitunga at length (who was in Cedar Rapids, Iowa). Three, I got overly involved with a book chapter needing to be written and cranked out quite a bit in one day. Four, Mike and Cynde kept calling, oddly. Five, Nikki called to share she was engaged (but the photo she sent had no fingernails...Adamo's direction to Cynde were to have her get her nails done, because Nikki always said she didn't want a photo with bad nails. She got a pedicure instead). And Six, all I've had to eat is two bowls of chicken noodle soup. 

Ah, but the sun is scheduled to come out today and that will ad to the day of happiness that came from yesterday. I wasn't expecting that, and both Cynde and Mike were expecting to be able to tell me sooner, but Adamo took his sweet time. They knew for months, but didn't know when. They had a hunch it would be yesterday. 

Now that I look at it, the nails do look like a color my mom would wear (wait....does she still have bottles of nail polish lying all around the house...I don't think I've see that the last few times I visited)

I'm super happy for the two of them and can't believe how fast time goes by...we were just watching Nikki's precocious dance and song performances with her crowns and feather boas (note to self: Remind Cynde and Mike to share these videos with Nikki's fiance). 

It's wonderful to welcome another member to the family and I look forward to all still to come.

And this is the before picture. Her hands are cute, and look how elongated those phalanges are. We've go to hand it to her (ba dum dum ch).

I should also probably announce to them that I'm getting ordained to marry a couple this upcoming May in case they are looking to hire anyone. Karal said she can easily be a ring-bearer or flower girl if they need one. Also, I can bartend, because Nikki loves my Moscow Mules, especially after eating salad and going swimming with her mom.

Stay tuned. I'm sure there's more to come.

I Earned My Badge (Well, Button) & Didn't Realize How Much Alfalfa Looks Like My Older Sister and My Nephew Sean-Man

Glad I had steak Thursday night, because yesterday I learned to get creative with pudding and vanilla ice cream. That was the extent of my ingestion, besides chicken noodle soup served at room temperature.

I was in at 10:45 and out by 11:30. I should spare you the needle pokes, numbing rituals, and then 20 minutes of noise, chiseling, and pulling that occurred to clean out #32, a lower right wisdom tooth. Dr. Sood was great as was his assistant and I did my best to be a Marine, a stoic fighter, and a non-thinking brick while it all went down. I didn't want to get in my imagination, because it was a bit more uncomfortable than I anticipated. I didn't expect to feel the removal, and can only imagine what it would be like if I wasn't numb. So thankful for the numbness and the minute-check-ins of "How are you doing," and "Next, I will be doing xxx and it might feel like xxxx." 

My guess is that the tooth cracked into parts because there were several layers to the procedure, going in and yanking it out with, "I'll be finished real soon."

I was glad it ended, and the nurse was like, "You did so well. He didn't even need to take out his razor blades for this one." She reported he didn't even have to use stitches....the gauze will help clot the wound. I was sent on my way with what I hoped to be good drugs and then left the building in search of Pam who was shopping at Marshall's and 5 Below. 

To be honest, I used the excuse to be productive (I know, I know, I know. You know you are an academic when...). I sat in one place, bit down on the gauze, and graded while the skies dumped the Atlantic Ocean over Connecticut and New York. Of course, I was reading essays on Luma Mufleh's book, Learning America, and reflections on several events we've hosted helping students to understand the plight of refugees more. I actually thought about that while in the oral surgeon's chair. How are such issues treated in refugee camps? I'm sure most cultures and rituals have traditions that help ease the pain, but I highly doubt they have the Star Wars apparatus x-ray machines that began my morning. So advanced.

"Stay ahead of the pain," I was advised. "Take medicine in a timely matter so it doesn't catch up." It caught up a few times, however, and it made my right eye twitch and my right ear throb. I had to think of all those who get put under and have all four wisdom teeth taking out at once. I imagine that is quite the recovery and you must be down for at least a week. 

And the oddest directions for the post-pull-procedural. "Use an old pillow case at night to catch the bleeding drool while you sleep."

Um, I'll skip the bleeding drool thank you.

Finally, oral surgeons make approximately $320,000 a year. I had to look it up because I admire the expertise and wondered how any one could do that work for a living. It's sort of like an oil change for them....20-30 minute pops, and I imagine it gets rather conveyer-belt-esque. Ah, but Dr. Sood told me after I confessed I'd likely be drenched while he finished that he's a sweater, too....during every procedure...always nervous before they begin. 

After, he simply said, "You called it, Crandall. You do bring the perspiration." 

All About a Good Cinnamon Scone & Cup of Coffee for Breakfast, but Not Today Satan. I Must Fast This Morning Before The Broken Wisdom Tooth Comes Out

10:45 a.m. - That's the procedural time and I look forward to removing the weeklong earache, toothache, and sliced tongue episodes. Silence has been my friend, because talking caused the tongue to go wild over the edges of spikes in the back of my mouth. This too shall pass. 

But on Thursday morning, a meeting with the Board of Trustees equated to good coffee and cinnamon scones which have been on my mind ever since. Will always love the English way, albeit it I drink more coffee than tea, which I probably should change, but won't. I need to my two cups to be human. 

Was also glad to see another project sent to editors in hopes of good feedback, and know I need to finish another writing project due this weekend (which I've wanted to work on for months but haven't had time). 

Today, however, it is all about Dr. Sood and the dental care I hope he provides. Prayers up for an everyday dental procedure that typical occurs in one's late teens and early twenties. 

And what do you mean that the storm that was here is swinging back only to bring more rain? Geez, glad I got the lawn mowed while I did, even though it occurred a little too close to sunset and I'm sure neighbors were wondering why the madman was mowing his lawn. 

Happy Friday, Y'all. Wishing the world its best.  

Transitioning to Dadaab Refugee Camp in Somalia for the Next Few Weeks in the Refugees in Literature Course and Reflecting Mightily on 1992

In the Fall of 1992, I was a junior at Binghamton University majoring in English and fresh away from a semester in London, studying with Carol Boyce Davies, taking courses on Shakespeare and British theater, and finding out more about the world as a 19 year-old. It was there I learned of the African diaspora, studies literature of Black authors living in exile in Great Britain, and returning to Broome County to take more African American literature course while trying to figure out global diversity and what I'd one day with my life. 

1992. I think about that year a lot, as studying abroad moved me in the direction I've been on ever since, choosing to teach in urban schools which naturally led me to my work with relocated refugee youth from Africa arriving into an upstate NY city. While I was doing the pampered life of reading, writing, and learning in college, Dadaab refugee camp was seeing masses of people arriving to live in tents for the next 30 years of their life (if not longer). These were the years so many of the young men I worked with in Syracuse were born and as global politics was part of my study, they were born into the despair. It's all stories, but looking closely at the camps, the reality that there are more refugees today than at any time since WWII, and that I had 4 Apple TVs to help share data, thinking, and understanding at a rather privileged, primarily White institution offered much pause.

Meanwhile, the tooth with its sharp edges is ripping apart my tongue in cheek. It comes out on Friday and I am looking forward to that moment. I simply think, "How do individuals deal with medical issues in refugee camps, knowing they don't, and grow saddened for the world." It's hard not to think about Western privileges and the set back of a wisdom tooth needing to come out. 

There's so much to be done. So little being done. A tremendous amount to appreciate, but much questioning about why some are born into lucky situations and others not. It's a lot, especially trying to understand how human beings can be so cruel to one another and excessively ignorant. Here I am with all my degrees feeling dumb to it all. There has to be a better way and a more purposeful way to help. 

I told Julie, who I am teaching with, this course can be a lot. We have to match the realities with the world with local possibilities of what can be done to help. Of course, these are college kids without much control, but open minds like I once had as a 19 year old. I can only hope that the conversations I lead have an effect in the ways that my professors once had. I try to remain optimistic that their generation can do so, so much better.

Shouting Out To All Experiencing Middle-Aged Puberty and All the Ruckus that Comes Way Past the Teens into Your 50s

So, this is what it looks like when you are eating lunch, listen to a message from your dentist, and realize the painful tooth decided to break itself down and, well, I guess I swallowed most of it. I don't know what happened, except my tongue found that it was missing and became fixated on the sharp spike that was left. I'm guessing I ate a large chunk of tooth and filling that broke away mid-day Tuesday afternoon.

I've joked about balance, failing eyes, random nose-hairs, and swamp ass, but I can now add disappearing teeth to the mix of items not taught in adolescent body books. It never ends. The changes are real. Without another wisdom tooth, I guess I'm getting dumber.

The article we read in the NYTimes about the importance of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret teased that Blume should also write menopause books and others on insomnia, other traits of middle-age. She needs to help generations to contend with the other transformations that occur over a life time. We trust her, but those books are not available. Here I am with another day of X-rays to find out the tooth is, indeed, dead. Joy. Happiness. Remorse about eating hard candies as a youngster.

Dr. Kudish did shave down the spike so I could return to campus to teach Judy Blume's book, but I was ill-prepared with intentions (the copier was also down and I simply gave up...I went ol' school, led discussion, and promised resurrection next week). 

My brain (and wallet) want a break. It's all maddening and I'm trying to keep my sanity. Now...to have an oral surgeon who will remove what's left of the ol' guy. Alas, this is what we work hard for...to pay for our teeth. I somehow missed that in my economics classes (Crandall, don't be an idiot. You haven't taken economics since high school). 

I just hope I'll still be able to grind food in the future so it is digestible. My inner cud-chewing hopes he'll still be able to eat good food from time to time and not have to everything grounded down in a blender. I love milkshakes, but don't want my salads and steak served that way. 

Throwing It Way Back to Gillette Road Middle School and My Wonder Years: Why Are All the Girls So Obsessed with Judy Blume?

Last year, I ended the semester with middle grade texts, but this year because the movie came out, I thought it was pertinent to teach Judy Blume's Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret. I somewhat wish I swapped last week with this week (The Outsiders) as the 'Tween-ager' years are something else, too, and coupled with Finding Red would be a good kick-off to conversations about adolescent texts. It's all good, though. They work either way and stand on their own. 

It started me thinking about The Wonder Years and remembering when Fred Savage had his sex education class - the scene came out while I was in high school, but it resonated nonetheless as funny. The way the coach drew the ovaries and woman always cracked me up, so I'll be including in class tomorrow, too. 

The conversation, obviously, is about the pre-adolescent conversation and how, historically, books like those created by Judy Blume matter. We wouldn't have the texts we have today if we didn't have Blume's contributions (which girls of my generation loved). With the classics for my class, I am asking students if they still stand up and although The Outsiders does (they claim), the vote on Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret has not resonated as well. I'm surprises by the quickness students are calling the book out for its Whiteness and suburban-ness (when that is what the majority of the class consists of). Should be an interesting conversation.

Dental update? It was Yom Kippur so my dentist wasn't there and the old dentist wanted me to come back so he could play with it more. The hygienist. however, said, "I think that tooth needs to be pulled so I'l talk with Dr. Kurdish in the morning." 

Joys. It it comes out, I won't have much chewing space left in the right hand corner of my mouth. They need to writer middle-age books similar to the YA novels I'm teaching. I'm getting somewhat tired by all the bodily changes, shortcomings, and removals. 

And so it is, God. I'm still here, though. 

I Said I Could Bring Towels, Umbrellas, a Hairdryer, Whatever, But She was Good. A Warrior in All She Does, Including Parenting a Star Soccer Player

When Kelly Chandler-Olcott texts to say that her son, Quinn, has a soccer game at the University of Bridgeport and wonders if I'm free to attend, I clear the calendar. Any time with my mentor and academic cartographer is a great day. Of course I went. Their team lost, but that's okay. I got quality time with a human I admire, look up to, and value in my life. 

It's hard to believe that so many years have gone by since I gave her Kentucky bourbon in 2007 and she did a shot with me in 2011, when I had my dissertation defense. That was yesterday, but a long ways away from the time she molded and guided me into the thinker, doer, and literacy scholar that I am. There are few words that can capture the value Dr. Kelly Chandler-Olcott has had on my life. 

I watched the Weather Channel all day and saw a window of no precipitation between 3 pm and 6 pm, the exact time for the game (luck for us). It remained windy and cold, but it was dry enough to sit in the bleachers for some sport, talent, and cheering (I remember when Quinn was a youngster and I was given the roll of keeping my eye on him in the RLAC office - a kid who outsmarted me when I challenged him who could say the alphabet backwards the fastest and he sprinted backwards into a wall while reciting his A, B, C's.)

Time flies, roles shift, but leadership continues. It was a superb day to spend a Sunday and I loved seeing Quinn's senior pictures and catching up on the state of the Universe with her. Easily one of the smartest people I've ever met and who lives by hard work, integrity, and perseverance. 

I'm a lucky son of a Butch, and Dr. Kelly Chandler-Olcott is proof of this. I am so thankful to have learned from her, written alongside her, and benefited from all she invested into me.

Ah, here's to the week ahead. I've been refueled. 

Murphey's Law: Should a Tooth Decide to Throb & Shoot Lightning, It Will Always Hit on a Friday Night so You Have to Wait Until Monday to Be Seen

The good news I am already scheduled for a cleaning at 10 a.m. Monday. The bad news is that (what I hope to be) the tooth my dentist was keeping an eye on and postponing for a new year decided that she can give to flying farts about insurance and that she wants to be operated on sooner than later. 

At least that's what I think is going on. I had minor irritation while sleeping Friday evening, but then by 4 pm yesterday, she was full-blown miserable. I couldn't tell if I had an earache or a toothache, all I knew is that it was unbearable pain. With sinuses the way they are, I thought maybe that's what it was, but I'm pretty sure it's one of the ol' wisdom teeth that was never taken out. Now, it could be any number of my teeth, but my guess is it is this one.

I work to pay for my teeth. I've said that for years and it remains true. My mouth is worth more than I am.

So today I hope to keep the pain at bay with Ibuprofin until I can get inside the office on Monday and she can tell me there are no openings for a few weeks. When it hit yesterday, I felt like one of those cartoons and I seriously thought about getting a wrench to pull it out. It's just gross. But when the aspirin kicked in, I laid down which I didn't want to do...I was making great progress with my Ophelia-stay-in, then BOOM.

For now, though, I need to keep ahead of the throbbing.

Yes, my smile is another bodily reality that I've always had to live with. I just flick my credit card their way and say, "Don't let the damage be too horrific." 

Ugh.

My Attempt to Create a Maple-Glazed Salmon Dish with Quinoa, Cranberries, Butternut Squash, and Spinach (with Maple Ganache and Spice Cake)

It was close, not perfect, but close. 

The flavors came together remarkably, but the presentation wasn't superb. The cake, too, although tasty, didn't have the high-market appeal I was looking for. Okay, I wasn't aiming that high for plating, but I was looking for fancy-smancy to the best degree possible. 

To be honest, it could have come out absolutely horrible, but it did serve a semblance of familiarity and was delicious. I wanted the maple flavor and achieved that, and I have to say the quinoa with cranberries mixed with salmon, squash, and spinach was wonderful together. I would definitely try this dish again, especially knowing I have much more maple glaze than I used and I could have double the sized of the salmon. 

Not bad for a Friday night meal to end a frantic work-week. 

Now for a tropical storm, indoor activities, reading, and getting ahead for courses for the week. I'm thinking now of carrots, however, and how they would have tasted great with the medley.

Alas, I'm moving on. Hoping for rest, calm, and rejuvenation. It's the least I can ask for. 

Obligatory Weekly Karal Post Before a Weekend of Tropical Storm Rains, Organizing, Writing, and Trying to Get Moderately Ahead. Happy Friday.

I always slide into Friday with the thought, "Now that was interesting. What the heck was that?" Sometimes I wonder how I keep up with my schedule and if, truly, I can maintain all I commit myself to do. This was one of those weeks and I'm exhausted from summer, preparing for the semester, submissions, and now teaching.

This is why I love my dog. She centers my universe with her canine selfishness, her wonky ways, and her need to be loved 24/7 unconditionally. She seriously has no ability to share my time with others and if you come in her way, she'll do everything to steal attention from her. She simply wants ear rubs, a lap, and to keep my focus on her. 

I adore it. 

The photo was taken when I made her watch U of L volleyball on Sunday. She didn't want to share time with the Cards, but I've kept track of their season since leaving Louisville in 2007 and remain a fan. I simply love good sport and they've always played with pride and integrity. 

The rain doesn't arrive until midnight tonight and I'm okay with being trapped in my house to finish writing projects. I'm getting there, but as many of you know, writing is hard. There's a lot more blood, sweat, and tears that goes into it than balloons, cupcakes, and confetti (that only goes to the very, very lucky)(and talented).

Here's to the weekend. For those who celebrate...enjoy every second coming your way. 

Participated in the My First Jesuit Refugee Services Journey into Exile Simulation with Students Yesterday. Very, Very Powerful

For several years, I've known others on campus offer simulation of the refugee experience, but I've never participated or (to be honest) had interest in a simulation. Yes, I've experienced the Holocaust simulation and still can feel the impact it had on me, but with refugees (because of the work I do and the intimate storytelling that has been shared with me) I never felt like it would be healthy to make a game out of it. The intensity is too severe an the diversity of story is too complex. 

So, yesterday, Jésuites du Canada came out our Honors course and ran the simulation. We were each given an identity and walked through a variety of circumstances and possibilities. This wasn't in a museum or in an assembly...just a classroom. I was an Afghan teenager with no family, no money, and a love of Arab hip hop and gaming. As decisions were made to send this person here or that person there, I was overlooked: Those who were moms with kids or elderly or transgendered seem to have more needs that I had as a teenage boy. I coasted and watched as the plight of everyone went forward. At one point, I was killed because I didn't have money to pay these men to move me to a safer place. They used me as an example for all the others. 

It's sort of hard sitting in a newly built building with all its luxuries and with young people whose family can afford Fairfield's luxury discussing the realities of displaced people worldwide. It's sort of unfathomable and hard to digest (yet it's abundant, growing, and likely to be an ongoing crisis until something is done about it.....but what?)

Of our room of 24 people, only one made it to their destination in the Western world. Out of every 100 who try, that is the likelihood they'll reach the goal. 1. This is why so many who are given asylum in the United States feel they hit the lottery if selected.

But that doesn't fix the borders. Nor does it fix the travel by boat....the mothers having to leave children behind to save the one in her arms. It's something. And it will continue to be something until all nations have economic stability, jobs, and a flow of opportunities to their people. As one man state in his interview, "it was either taking a chance on a better life or being shot  in my home nation because it's a no-win situation." 

We went through the simulation without our shoes, which made the experience a little more vulnerable, although not much. 

It's one of those things that, even in simulation, is hard to believe: the numbers, the odd chances, the violence and cruelty, and the hatred of nations turning their backs on the desperate.

So much wealth held by the few. So much struggle by a majority. I don't mean to be cynical, but it's only going to get worse, especially as Westerners willfully ignore geography, global history, and what the books of faith (Bible, Torah, and Koran) teach.

And so, I have to admit, the simulation does what it's supposed to....it lurks on the brain with every other thing one tries to do.

There has to be a better way. 

Stayed True to a Classic of YA Literature and, All These Years Later, THE OUTSIDERS Continues to Bring Us Inside Adolescent Narratives

I wake up mesmerized by what a class of students can do with a book - pull out of it brilliance, made connections to history and paradigms, and connect with their own lived experience. I continue to be amazed, however, that S.E. Hinton wrote this novel as a 16-year old. Every time I read it, I'm hooked right back to the story as if I was 15.

1967...5 years before I was born...and still resonating with readers today.

We discussed what makes a piece of literature canonical and who gets excluded. I paired the conversation with Kimberly Jones reaction to riots in Atlanta in 2020, all while Covid had us under our grasp and racial unrest (warranted) was center stage. Her reason and understanding within this spur-of-the-moment break down of her own local events resonated with me and always helps me to ask, "But what else was going on then? Before then? Now? Who benefits and is excluded from the way we frame classical stories?

That's class in America. That's race in America. 

Today, a visitor from Jesuit refugee services in Canada is doing a workshop with our honors class. I'm looking forward to the learning and feeling fortunate to be teaching what I am this semester.

I'm also thinking sleep, but that's besides the point. 

Well, Yes, Wimpy. I'd Gladly Pay You Tuesday for a Cheeseburger on Monday Because It Was National Cheeseburger Day Yesterday

I got my cheeseburger on National Cheeseburger Day and I'm congratulating myself for having the foresight to get ingredients for a Monday dinner after a long day of meetings followed by meetings, followed by meetings.

Delicious, but heavy not he tummy. I've learned it's the pickles that make all the difference. Yes, I know the weather has us thinking about chili and spaghetti, but I'm still in summer BBQ mode (even with all the rain). 

Tonight it is S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders and I look forward to gathering with my YA crew to explore our first classic together. Phew. Mondays are something. Shoot, every day is something.

Ah, but this weather simply beckons sleep, blankets, and more sleep (and now for the battle not to turn on the heat until November). Here's to the rest of the week. I have not had the intelligence to plan the rest of my meals for the week, but I did get my Monday one. Tonight, I'll be lucky to eat Triscuits or a PBJ. We shall see. 

Got a Slight Water Fix Before Grilling Chicken and Cooking for Friends....a Much Over-due Walk Along the Sound with Karal

So, it's ragweed season and I can't stop sneezing. Seriously, I'm trying to guess a time in the year where I'm not stuff up, doomed with post-nasal drip, and clogged. Story of my life, but this year's weeks really have me going. 

But it was so nice to hike along the water this morning, to look at the stars bathing in the Long Island Sound, and simply to take fresh air in with our guilt. Actually, when I returned I really wanted to go back to bed because my brain is exhausted, but I stayed away to watch Louisville volleyball against Stamford. It's such a mental game and the cards went feet up the last 3, despite dominated the first 2. Strange how that happens. 

Today, I'm loaded up with University meetings, one of which I must run, followed by courses Tuesday and Wednesday. I know Covid is flying across campus again and keeping track of it is something else. Although I'd welcome a week-expectation of couch life, television, and sleep (like I had when I got it in 2021), I also don't want to lose time to it because I already feel way behind most of my work. 

And today it's supposed to rain. We shall see. I just need to blow my nose and wipe the liquids out of my eyes. As much as I complain, though, this is so much better than the Ohio Valley gunk of Louisville. Those days about killed me, especially the headaches and sinus pain. 

Alright...time to head to campus. 

I Remember the First Time a Colleague Told Me She Loves Going to a Topless Bar and I Blushed. I Didn't Know What Tapas Was. I Stand Corrected

When I was first hired at Fairfield University, a wonderful, saintly colleague bragged to me about how she loved eating at a topless bar and I sort of blushed. It took me a while to get comfortable with people before I said to someone, "I can't believe (so and so) ate at topless bars." 

I then heard of a thing called Tapas. "Oh, I never heard of that."

Well, last night, I too ate at a topless bar with colleagues who just endured the long application process we completed over the last intense few weeks. Tapas. Delicious shrimp, potatoes, and other small dishes served in small increments that are perfect bite-size euphoria. I suppose some feel the same with tassels and pole-dancing, but food has always been a better enticement for me. Tapas is good and I'm sold. I just want to cook such delicious foods myself. 

Perhaps they should open up Tapas beaches. That might be cool. 

Okay, Sunday. Lee's winds weren't that horrific and the lawn is mowed. Another piece of writing towards publication was worked on, and I feel comfortable heading into other projects today, including the grocery store where I can get Diet Coke. I need my afternoon bubbles even if it is bad for me. I have gone all week without my afternoon fix, but I'm going back to it because I can. 

Ai Ai Ai. What a week! It's hard to even wrap my head around it, but I'm on the other side and I'm a better man for it. 

May good food find a way to your plates, too. 

I Guess Lee Will Just Cause Coastal Swell and High Winds, Which Means I Can Finally Mow My Lawn (Because I'm Making Time)

It's hard to suddenly realize a project is in, and then to also realize, "Wait. What will I do with my extra seconds of the day, because I haven't had any for over a month?" This guy is going to mow his lawn and love every second of it. It doesn't matter if Lee will bring rain or not.

And the temperatures really dropped. Humidity is officially gone. It's actually cool, which is the example of 'be careful what you ask for.'

Now I am looking at two weeks of classes, a third on its way, and the fact I haven't touched the first week assignments I assigned, the other writing project commitments I'm behind on, and the fact that the laundry I did needs to be put away. 

I'm operating slow, however, as my brain needs to heal. I have wonderful ideas for big projects I want to take on, but for this weekend, I'm going forward as a sloth. I know the psoriasis, high blood-pressure, and headaches were caused by the stress, so if I can alleviate just a little of that for a short while, I'm going for it. 

Gosh darn it, I deserve it. 

And Today, the Seeds Collected Since 2018 Will Be Planted and We'll See What Blooms (or Dies) This Spring in the Garden of Academia

My intention was to be an early bird, so went to campus yesterday to finish last steps, have meetings with engineering faculty, and to hid submit. Of course, the software chosen by the University crashed and no one could do the work expected of them, until they could reach the company to find a solution. By the time I got to the reason I went to the campus in the first place, and I learned of this SNAFU, I simply inhaled and said, "Forget it. It's gorgeous outside. I'm taking my dog for a walk."

So I left. 

I walked the dog. Then I returned to edit, revise, create, and rethink some more. I will return to the University today to complete the task....planing 137 pages of seeds to hopefully bloom before others. It'll be out of my control when I hit send. It will happen at some time today, but first I will walk Karal, get my haircut, and do my laundry (which was on the radar as something to do to relax). 

There are no words for the process academics go through for peer-to-peer confirmation. I know what I do and I'm proud of it, but I also know others do other things differently. So, we can only hit submit and see what happens.

For today, though, the soil has raked over the seeds. Now, we wait for whether they will grow or not.

Going Into Thursday as I Always Do, but This Time with Helmet and Armor to Be Sure All That Needs to be Done Get Competed

Finally, two days with space to work on the impending materials needing to meet a deadline. I have one lunch, and that is it; otherwise I can totally focus. Well, of course I also have a million and one obligations for M-W next week and people are waiting for me to get my act together. Hint: if you pay attention to my life, you'd see that I'm doing a million and one things at all times because, well, others aren't doing a million and one things at all time...they are doing as they do, which I have no idea what that is because I rarely see them.

I told the interim Dean, "Well, you want it done, then get me some people to help me do what I already have to do. That's the solution"

Anyway, I'm going into the day with optimism and excitement to have uninterrupted spaces to concentrate and write like I love to do. Classes are finished for the week and they were both wonderful (I'm in absolute awe of yesterday's Refugees in Literature course --- everything came together tremendously....another 'if only there were documentarians there class). 

I'm posting this, sipping my coffee, and then digging in deep. It's all I can do. Besides, I love hopping up and down on my chicken. 

Revamping a Classic Body Biography Activity in a Young Adult Literature Course - Thankful to @ChrisCrutcher & His Angus Bethune for Inspiration

In other courses, I've borrowed the body biography activity as a way to review a novel and to get students thinking about character identity and constructions. Last night, however, I adapted the activity to first get the students thinking about their own adolescence and then to carry it forward with Angus Bethune, a character from Chris Crutcher's Athletic Shorts.

Disclaimer: I am biased. I have loved the voice of Angus Bethune when I read it as a classroom teacher and take pleasure in knowing he was created in 1989, while I was still in high school. The overweight kid with nontraditional parents, but normal teenage angst, is a wonderful way to invite others into a conversation about growing up, figuring out the world, and moving forward with genetics/family, but on one's own. 

It worked. What the students don't realize is they were creating a foundation for the genre of teen books, without necessarily being lectured about the themes most of them address. I could have Powerpointed my way through history, but rather allowed them to naturally find the themes for themselves any looking at their own lives and the wit of Angus (love it, Chris. So thankful for your brilliant contributions. 

Now, however, it's time to transition to Refugees in Literature and another class this afternoon. 

Yes, they traced their bodies and I provided a warehouse of markers and crayons. They laughed as they thought together and I laughed and the ways they accomplished what I hoped they would.

Oh, to be a teenager. 

Interesting to me, though, is I don't have just pre-service teachers in the course, making me think strategically about the way the curriculum will go forward. I have several finance majors and I'm dreaming numerous ways they may look into book publishing as their final projects....we shall see. 

Cherishing a Talisman Amulet Given to Me By My Colleague, Allyson, While She is Away on Her Sabbatical. I Like the Spiritual Support

I told my colleague, Allyson, I'd need a talisman to carry with me in her absence and she sent a necklace for me to wear. It is the Seal of the Seven Archangels Seals of Solomon Kabbalah and is a blend of Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, uniting all the God-oriented angles meant to protect, heal, guide, and balance. I looked it up and I was totally touched. I sent a link to her and she said, "Wow. I didn't even know what a Talisman was and I went on a whim. Well, she rocked it.

I am thrilled to note that it is not anything satanic or underground, but rather a spiritual trinket to fuse faith of multiple religions. I can groove with that as my faith is rather druid and animistic. Give me spirits, nature, animals, weather, and Mother Earth. I don't need the humans, as much as I need the spirited essence always surrounding humanity, especially now as I move through my projects, leadership, fears, and hopes. 

It was a perfect gift and I already found myself grabbing it during stressful moments of my day. It is a way to channel the supernatural to make the natural (ahem, life thing) more tolerable and suggestive. I can channel my faith in what is good and what is possible in the everyday interactions that I have.

I'm about to undergo two days of frantic meetings and scheduling, all while teaching and having to finish up deadlines looming in the near future.

And if you look real close, you can see the freckle on my pointer finger which my friends and I used to joke was an indicator that we had connections to other universes. I used to have a similar freckle on the tip of one of my toes, but it went away with a blister after running a Louisville half marathon one year. 

It all goes full circle and I'll channel any and all good I can find. In the near future I shall read more as I'm totally ignorant of organized religions, but feel it might be smart to have access to them (just in case). 

So, here it goes.

And It Rained, So Crandall Found Absolute Joy. Temperatures Are Somewhat Cooled and I Loved to See the Healthy Downpour From My Front Porch Writing Emporium

The storms came soon after my morning coffee. I felt relief knowing that getting outside was probably not a good option so I moved ahead some more on many projects. This is a rough week and I need t's dotted and I's crossed. What else is new?

Karal and I did walk in the afternoon, and I grilled a rib-eye which was delicious. I also got a few items from the grocery store that I greatly needed.

Monday, today, needs to be strategic to make it through Tuesday and Wednesday which are cramped with daylong responsibilities. I also have to be on campus for an afternoon Faculty Handbook commitment. 

As for September shedding of dog owners, I feel ya. They know winter months are coming and begin releasing hairs for their pre-hibernal coats. I bathed Karal and it's been a blonde waterfall ever since. All of her lounging areas need severe sweeping and vacuuming. 

Time for a Garfield Monday grump. It's not that I hate Mondays, but I can't wait for the pace of this upcoming week to be over with.

Here's to the work ahead. 

Well, I Failed My Meteorologist Exam and I Thought Yesterday Was Suppose to Break the Humidity, but I Was 100% Wrong

So, I was drenched yesterday. It wasn't rain, a pool, or a shower...just the thick pea soup still hovering in the air because storms haven't broken the quality of air. The humidity is simply a hot mess and I looked messy after Karal and I went for a hike. I had to cut it short because her poor tongue was panting in misery. Yuck. I like clean, crisp air and not liquid oxygen. I missed the fact that the gloom and doom was still amongst us.

Yet, I accomplished a lot indoors and didn't realize my miscalculation until I took the afternoon stroll. 

I'm thankful to Oona, however, for making chicken riggies (mild for my stomach) and I was delighted to bring dessert, which was an ice cream medley like I'd make my mom (that was in honor of National Grandparent's Day). 

Now, today we're supposed to get rain. I welcome it, but more importantly I wish for cooler air that doesn't soak the collars and pits the second you step outside. This is July and August weather, not September, and I'm sure the schools hope for a cool down, too, so they can get a whole day of instruction. They had to go half day all last week.

Normally, I'd be excited by the warm temperatures but I transitioned to football season with my mind on chili and spaghetti in the near future. 

Now, I just want Italian ice and raft to float it. I'll regret this post in February when we're freezing, but for this morning I only want to complain. It's sticky-gross and I hate it. 

My Guess Is I Keep Finding Cities That Are a Deterrent For a Good Thunderstorm, as Every Prediction Seems to Prove Untrue as They Approach

I was looking forward to a good afternoon/evening of thunderstorms as the heat was outrageous and the air simply stagnant. All day I kept an eye on the Weather channels, my phone, and the sky and knew they were coming. You could see the build up in the sky. When Kathy called to say she and Michael were grabbing a burger I told her I'd be right there, and I hoped to beat the rain. She said, "What rain? The storms reach Bridgeport and then head directly north."

Sure enough, just like Syracuse, the storms look like straight on bullseyes, but then rip off into new directions or totally split as they approach our area. So, no storms. Strange how this is. 

It's like they're greeted by a 'Go Away' sign, so they do. I like good storms. I remember them from childhood and, unlike Kentucky, a good storm removed the heat for cooler air (in KY, they made the heat even hotter). I was simply looking forward to cooling air...which has to come somehow because the temperatures drop this weekend. 

So, the week didn't end with a bang like I hoped it would. I was looking forward to rattling windows. Nope. Just a couple of sprinkles with everyone around us getting pummeled. It is what it is, and perhaps I should be so sad they missed us...

...again.

I'm Somewhat New to Habitual Pharmaceuticals, so I Don't Understand How Medical Offices Send Prescriptions Out to Pharmacies All Over the State

I'm on blood pressure and cholesterol medicine, as well as different treatments for my psoriasis. There are 3 CVS in my immediate area, and medical facilities seem to spin the wheel for where the prescriptions will land. I simply get a text message, "Your CVS prescriptions are ready to pick up in Stratford." I never pick the right one.

Well, today, the CVS only had half my prescriptions and driving around to the other locations, I picked up the rest. Um. These are from the same doctor. Those of you who have lived a long life dealing with drugs, big Pharma, and Big Insurance, why would a medical facility do this? It seems rather inane. 

Better yet, the CVS in the Target closes down for lunch every day, so it looks like a giant warehouse protected by metal doors. I walked around the store for 45 minutes while the pharmacist finished his lunch and the line to get to the counter took another 45 minutes. Is this normal, too?

I remember the days of customer care and service, and I suppose our nation has simply given up on having any respect, personal relationship, or kindness over simple processes like picking up a medical prescription. I will say the pharmacist smiled at the old man ahead of me when he didn't know how to use his debit card in the machine. "WHY THE HELL HAS MY PRESCRIPTION GONE UP $30 DOLLARS," he asked behind squeaking hearing aids. "WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY COUNTRY?"

The scholar in me is fascinated by this as my medical doctors have been telling me their side of the corporate greed pharmaceuticals and insurance companies have over customers and medical facilities. None of it makes sense to me and I know it's suppose to keep me alive longer to do pills middle age, but the whole thing drives me batty. Are we so sheepish that we don't unite to fight this silliness? I mean, playing CVS whack-a-mole to find my prescriptions simply seems silly. 

TGIF. I need my blood pressure medicine.

I Never Meant for My Courses to be a Dateline Episode and I Pushed 20/20 Away from the Way I Teach, but My Elbows Had Another Plan

It's the end of summer. I've been writing a lot. I mean 14 hour days for several week, and although I typically keep my weenises in the air, when at my desk, they rub into the desktop. As result, I have two callused elbows with large scabs. I didn't even know they were there until beach friends wondered what happened. "Writing, I guess." They thought maybe that is why many professors have patches on their sport coat elbows. Could be.

Well, in both classes I taught this week, I suddenly looked down and saw my syllabi and attendance sheets splattered with redness. Actually, it was dripping on the desks, too, and I immediately knew my elbows must have cracked again.

"Great," I told my students. "As if I'm not a wonky professor already, but now you can tell all your friends I have this bleeding-elbow man. It's so gross." 

As Alice and I always said, "If we try to be normal, our eccentricity comes out in other ways. Mine squirts from the weenis.

First week was a success. I have heard rumors about teaching honors classes, and I have a freshman one this year. Within minutes I realized how special the 20 kids were. They were attentive, curious, and already dedicated to a lifetime of finding out. I've always resisted teaching honors classes because, HEY, shouldn't all kids who attend college already be honors? Well, I am realizing that there's a financial game to it all, and that the college-ready kids are often put into honors programs. Who knew? Back in my day, college was college, but now there's layers because they only really want the dollars from families. Anyway, the honors kids are special and I can tell it's going to be a wonderful semester.

In fact, for the first time since coming to Fairfield University I realized these kids are close to what I used to have at the Brown School in Kentucky. I was fortunate to teach in an urban school that treated its students like human beings. As a result, they excelled and made me love teaching. I lost that flare since leaving Kentucky, but I definitely felt some of it with the first day vibe of these freshman. Imagine a group of kids who have their brains alive, especially given the circumstances of our nation. 

It's special, and I feel honored to be chosen to teach such a class. It felt like the Brown School family, which is something I've missed since 2007 when leaving Kentucky. I've spent the rest of my adult life trying to recreate something similar (even though I hear my utopia no longer exists there any more, either....stupid administration).

Best news yet, however, is not a single one of them is a vampire. Super excited I didn't find any attached to my elbows at the end of class. 

New Semester. New Kicks. I've Given up on Dress Shoes, Simply Because I Love Good Sneakers to Spruce up a Classroom Fit

It's not that I have a Saucony fetish, but I love Saucony sneakers for running and walking, so why not get Clearance kicks as dress shoes to wear with pants and a sport coat. Seems reasonable to me, and if you saw my sneakers, you'd see all of them with the treads wore off because I move too much. Still, I do like buying new ones to keep my aging-fart self feeling young...at least on my feet. 

I wore my first new pair to class last night. I expected a compliment, but didn't hear a thing. It's all good. Let the weeks roll some before people look at my feet.

I'll debut the 2nd pair tomorrow, although they're more tame and subdued than these. But the ones I wear for walking are on their way out, as my heal is popping through he bottom and there's no traction left.

This morning, I am thinking about being 51 and how I can't keep the 8 a.m. - 10 p.m. pace. I physically can't do it...my brain shuts off. I tried, but I need breaks, so Crandall has to rethink some things. 14-hour days have been my way for over 40 years, but I'm slowing down and I'm totally ready to admit, "Yes, I'm slowing down." The fact that our institutions allow anyone to work 14 hour days is insane, anyway. 

Ah, but I'm heading back to campus because I teach a turbo this morning into the afternoon. My brain is still trying to shut down coming home late last night. It's too much (and of course the copiers were down....my fault for leaving it to the last of my to-do tasks when it should have been the first). 

Okay, feet. Be happy. Should be an exciting day ahead with new adventures, lots of mid-July sweat (in September), and email demand from colleagues who haven't corresponded since May. Joy.

And I Got To the Beach for a Day of Sand, Sound, and Lantern Flies Invaded Southern Connecticut

I only had four hours of work this morning before I decided to shut up shop and head to the beach. I grilled chicken and made a salad. I want to lie in the sun. Ah, it was too hot to light in the sun so I sat other an umbrella. The others would go into the water, but I don't want to risk being another victim of the flesh-eating virus. 

Leo: What would we look like if it got us.

Pam: A skeleton. 

We spent from 12 to 5 pm on the Sound, and it was definitely a draw for others, too. The beach was packed (we all know 70 is the high next week). 

Okay, but I'm up for 46th grade...the 28th year teaching. A class tonight until 7 and another tomorrow from 11 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. (Wednesdays will be my Fridays once again).

As for Walnut Beach...I hope to get another day on you before we pack up, but the likelihood is fading. Here's to another semester in higher education. Bless us. All of us. 

Pool Day! Very Thankful for Shirls Who Had Me Over for a Day of Floating to Help Me Pretend I Did This Labor Day Thing Right

It wasn't a bad invitation. Be in Fairfield by 2 and float until 5:30. Hamburgers afterwards, a bonus. I forgot how much I loved floating in my parent's pool. Those were the best summer days: snacks, drinks, barbecue, rafts, games, and friends. All live took part in the backyard.

So, my life took place in Shirley's backyard yesterday. I have ZERO complaints about listening to Jimmy Buffet, catching up with a friend, and occasional submerging myself to cool off. The sun was hot and, with the humidity, I was thankful for the pool. 

Today, I believe, is the day I'll get back to the beach for my toes in the sand. There was not flesh-eating bacteria in Shirley's pool....just Sharky, the floating chlorine dispenser.

Joy is having the time and the ability to float mindlessly for hours. I wish I spent much more time doing this.

So, They're Not Killer Bees, But These Critters are Cicada Killers and They're Flying Around Stratford. Never Heard of Them Before. Quite Impressive

The last few days I've seen these giant bees flying out of holes in the ground around town, and I thought they might be those killer bee thing-a-ma-jigs, but it turns out they're just cicada killers. Never seen them before, but they're huge and abundant this year. Apparently, they care little about humans and just want to slurp the life out of the night singers. Well, I'm glad I'm not a cicada. I wonder if Kentucky gets these when they get infested with their monster cicadas every 7 to 13 years. I love my bugs, but even those freaked me out (especially the sound and the smells when they infested the Highlands). 

Yesterday was gorgeous. I took everything out of the garage and cleaned it, then went on a hunt to return bottles and cans. My luck...the machines were down at one store and when I got to the other they were closing it up for the evening. Apparently they have a curfew of 6 p.m., so now I have morning errands to run. Of course, now I want to build shelving units for my garage because I don't have proper storage for all the things I've accumulated (and Chitunga has hoarded). I don't want to get rid of any of his things until I have permission, and of course I have the dining room set he took for his apartment, but then returned for his big move to Iowa.

Today is supposed to be hot, gorgeous, and perfect for a beach bonanza, so that is the goal I'm setting for myself. I want to do it simple this Sunday and to enjoy the sand one last time. Of course, I still don't want to risk flesh-eating virus in any of my psoriasis...and open wound can be prey. It's be my luck to get it, even if Bev says it is all hyped up. 

It should also be a good day to give Karal a pre-winter bath, as she's been bringing on a winter coat and shedding quite a bit. I'd rather bathe her when she can dry off in a warm sun, as I have never owned a hair dryer and can't imagine she'd sit still by one anyway. 

And I keep thinking about that maple-glazed salmon, quinoa, and spinach. It truly was superb and I might try to grill a variation this evening. I only have maple syrup and spinach, but the rest is easy to purchased. How hard is it to make quinoa? Maybe I'll find out. 

Or maybe I won't.

That'll be this Sunday. 

Took a Break Last Night to Meet with Beautiful English Colleagues at the Whiskey Barrel and Was Thrilled by the Maple-Glazed Salmon, Spinach, & Cranberry Quinoa

I have been very deliberate about what food I consume because of my stomach issues, but took a chance last night with spinach, quinoa, and maple-glazed salmon. It was remarkable. Top Notch. Superb. And at the Whiskey Barrel in Stratford - I will be recommending the meal to everyone I know (and trying to replicate in my own home).

Yes, I had a migraine yesterday and I was out of commission for the first half of my day, so much so that I went back to my bedroom from 11 until 2:30 to meditate the headache away. I did manage to put my laundry away, but the pain between my eyes was paralyzing and my bed seemed too inviting. I closed the curtains and did my best to rest the agony away. It worked.

I then worked on syllabi for next week and made additional progress on larger projects. I also mowed the lawn and looked at the weather to see a gorgeous, ready for the beach weekend, which I hope to hit tomorrow. Can't fight with almost 90 degrees and the invitation to kayak/paddleboard. 

Sometimes there's nothing better than a flavorful, well-prepared meal, though. It put me in a good mood and I needed that.  Food can disappoint, but when it's on and perfect, it's exactly what the doctor ordered. I needed a hefty, well balanced meal and I got one. 

For tha I am thankful, and now I want to share it with the universe, but this post will do. 

Happy Saturday. In CT, the skies are blue and the air is warm, but crisp. Perfect. Time to get this body outside. 

Gave Myself a Moon-Rising at Walnut Beach to Clear My Mind and to Refocus My Intentions for All Still to Come

Of course I was asked to pick up chicken, but the ovens caught fire and I had to be redirected to another location to retrieve the poultry. All was good, and the Faculty Welfare Committee picnic welcomed new faculty on the lawn outside the library. A beautiful day before the students wait in caravans to be dropped off tomorrow. Classes begin on Tuesday - I'm ready (I think), but I'm also exhausted with 13 years of CWP work in the summers and no breaks.

That was the reason for an evening on the Sound. I didn't get good shots of the moon, but the sunset pink was nice. 

I'm not quite centered, but I'm somewhere in the calming circle. I find it hard not to run my brain through history, where we are as a nation right now, and the fact that my insurance decided it was no longer going to pay for my Kennalog shots to help my psoriasis...this a day after 50% of my paycheck went to pay income taxes. 1st world problems, indeed. But it's on my mind when doctors says that insurance companies and pharmaceuticals have the medical field and the general public by the throat. Someone is making money on all the nonsense, but it isn't every day people.

And I take this in consideration as I set out for another year of supporting K-12 teachers and youth. I wish for an easier ride in their future, but that is not where we are right now with back to school training offer gun defense classes for mass-shooters, rather than curriculum and support of the young people we work with. I want them safe, too. Might be nice to have support for our educational systems instead of defenses. Ah, but the moons will rise. The suns will set. Such is the way and I can only do what I can do. The rest is up to the Great Whatever. 

Hello, September.