Goodbye 2015

It's another bathtub blog!  But this one comes from the guest bath at Aunt Samdy and Uncle Dale's house. Hot water and a combo of bubbles and bath salts--perfection!

Earlier today, I watched a CNN show called The Best and Worst of 2015. I think that's how I'll style this blog. 

The Worst of 2015

Topping the list of most awful things in my 2015 are the two important people I lost. Just before Easter, my Uncle Ricky succumbed to Leukemia. While I did not see my uncle very much, I still retained my memory of him as being one of the coolest guys ever. To think that there wasn't going to be any chance to spend time with him hurt me harder than I expected. My mother was heartbroken at the loss of the little brother that she helped raise, and I worried about her as well as my newly widowed Aunt Mona, now on her own for the first time. 

The second loss was equally devastating, if not more so. As I was settling in to life in Knoxville and the demands of a doctoral program, word came that my darling Nini had lost her decades long battle with cancer. I realized how much I had come to rely on her--for moral support, laughter, stimulating my intellect, and the unbeatable desire for snark that rested deep within each of us. Thank goodness I have a storehouse of happy memories to tide me through until I see her again. 

Of course, my heart broke for my beloved Paris as she endured two horrible terrorist attacks. But I don't worry too much about the City of Life. No low-life bunch of crazed idiots can keep her down. #PrayforParis

The last thing in my worst list involves leaving the house on Sumerlin Court after ten happy years. My girls grew into beautiful young women within its confines, and Minnie, Mittens, and little Dinah all rest in its big backyard. Randi came into our lives there, my "daughter by another mother."  And who will ever forget our Zombie Christmas Eve. Terrific memories of both happy and sad times in the Sumerlin Ranch. 

The Best of 2015

Thinking of the good things that have happened--where do I begin?

First, I think of the morning of February 16. Waking up, I checked my email. And there it was. An offer to pursue a Ph.D. in history from the University of Tennessee. I couldn't believe it!  I still can't!  My acceptance of their offer set off the chain of events that led to my moving to Knoxville, Tennessee, and embarking on the adventure of a lifetime. 

Only slightly less high-rated among the many good things that happened in 2015 was our family trip to Europe. Watching as the girls came to know and love their German relatives, getting to see Petra, Melli, Sascha, as well as Reiner's Opitsch relations, and once again enjoying the Berliner lifestyle was amazing. The best parts of both Rome and Paris were the local pubs were frequented in each place. Especially dear to me is the memory of having an impromptu picnic dinner in the courtyard of our Rome hotel. I realized that night that there is no disappointment so great that a loving family can't fix. 

Of course, the big move to Tennessee serves as a wonderful memory of 2015. I can't believe Yvette, Maddie, and I did all that!  I love remembering how we stopped for the night to watch the first Republican debate, with Mad sitting on the end of the bed making fun of the candidates. I love my tiny flat in the west side of Knoxville, and I am blessed with classmates that have made me feel welcome and accepted. I will never forget the comfort Tess, Alicia, Adrien, and Minami provided via pancakes after a stormy session with Dr. H. And I remember the support and camaraderie of Matthew as we sought strength from the long-dead master of the Hermitage, a pilgrimage that made us bad-ass enough to survive out TA assignment. 

Last but certainly not least was my visit to Montgomery for Thanksgiving. What a wonderful time I had as my aunt and I partook of history and much, much good food. 

Through all, good and bad, I've had the support of my family, blood relations and more. I approach 2016 with a determination to do better at school, to welcome my first guests (Mom and Heidi) to the tiny flat at spring break, to coerce both Yvette and the Princess to visit, to come home for Indy Breakfast, and to continue to enjoy this amazing time in my life. 

Cheers!

Yvette says:  "I hope the world finds its way to peace."

Lorraine says: "Mushy!!"

Home for the Holidays

Here I am, snug as a bug in a rug at the home of my Aunt Sandy and Uncle Dale in Sacramento. Those two snowbirds are at their winter quarters in Yuma, and Yvette is housesitting for them until they return in the spring. While I'm here as a guest during my holiday break, I feel so at home. I spent lots of time here as a kid, so it's nearly as familiar to me as my own parents' house. 

The flight here last Wednesday was fairly uneventful--only marred by an hour delay in Salt Lake City because of snow. I now know what de-icing entails. But I managed to comfort myself. 

I had instructed my babies to pick me up at the airport--inside at the escalator. After this first visit, they can pick me up at the curb. But, for the first visit home, I wanted a traditional greeting. As it turned out, their welcome was anything but traditional. As I looked down for them from the top of the escalator, I saw Maddie, Heidi, and Randi standing together, obviously hiding something behind them. That something would not remain hidden. IT WAS PENNY!!!  Yes, my beloved dingo awaited my arrival inside the airport. Penny and I had such a joyous reunion that I totally forgot to cry and hug my babies!!

Then I remembered and embarrassed the two of them with giant embraces at the baggage claim. Then, of course, I had to buy them food. Nothing much had changed since August. 

The next day, the first thing on the agenda was lunch with the Princess. OMG, it was so wonderful to be sitting opposite her, each of us talking a mile a minute and eating breakfast foods for lunch. I followed my lunch with her with an afternoon at my parents' house, catching them up on all the Knoxville news that I hadn't already shared in dozens of phone calls since I left Sacramento. And, of course, I stayed to beat them both at Jeopardy (in spite of the ridiculous rule that I have to wait until Alex reads the entire answer before I can shout out the correct question). Then it was home to Aunt Sandy's and off to Mexican food (much missed by me in Knoxville) with Yvette. 

Next on my overstuffed agenda was a new family tradition, begun this year by my innocent and naive youngest daughter. Dirty cookie decorating!  With Maddie and Randi, their friend Mia, Heidi's friend Stephanie, and hostess Heidi herself, I helped decorate a variety of X-rated cookies. A little moonshine made it all a little more fun. 

The weekend belonged to Janelle and her fifth annual holiday skating show at Iceland. She tried something a little different this year, with Act 1 consisting of an ice version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was adorable!  The shows were not without their troubles, though. Wiring problems on Saturday night meant that I, as announcer, had to speak to the audience with my loud-ass voice until the problem was resolved. And Sunday night's show was put on in the rain. My legs were drenched, and Heather, my partner in crime at Janelle's shows, ran the music from underneath a tarp. But the skaters were real troopers--as were the audience members. 

On Monday, I had nothing scheduled until Yvette got off work and we could go shopping. And it was a good thing I didn't. One interesting thing about my aunt and uncle's house is its formidable security system. Alarm, double locks, and more!  On my first night in the house, Yvette gave me a quick introduction to the security measures, including warning me that the interior garage door would lock if you didn't either prop it open or remember to turn the lock. Ummmm. Yeah, that didn't occur to me when I went to the garage to do some laundry. The door shut behind me, and I didn't think anything of it. Until I tried to go back in the house. No dice. And no phone. And no bra on. No shoes, slippers, or even socks. No way back into the house. 

At first I tried to MacGuyver my way back in. Yeah, that didn't work. The place is a damned fortress. I could have hopped the gate at the driveway, but I had no desire to appear to one of the neighbors as a crazy shoeless woman with jiggling boobs. So, I MacGuyvered some mop bottom things into make-shift slippers. I used the dryer to warm my clothes up. The iron served as a mini-spaceheater for my feet.  I located some little bottles of Cook's in a cupboard so I knew I wouldn't go thirsty. Then, I spied a blanket. And I knew what I had to do. 

Under a gray car cover in the garage is my uncle's pride and joy, a gorgeous 1931 Model A. It looked especially appealing to a gal who was contemplating another six hours in the garage. Under the cover I went. Wrapping myself in the blanket, with the mop bottoms on my feet, I stretched out in the front seat. While I'm not especially tall, I did have to put my feet out the window to stretch my legs. 

Nervous about being alone with my own thoughts, I nevertheless made the most of my off-the-grid time. I thought about how I would have approached my textbook paper differently, imagined a trashy romance, and, best of all dozed. 

The sound of the garage opening woke me. Yvette carefully pulled her car in, and I tried not to scare her. So I stayed in the car and just lifted the cover to look out the window. If I live to be 100, I will never forget the look on poor Yvette's face. Astonishment, terror, confusion--it was all there. And I couldn't help it.  I had to laugh because the whole thing was so damned funny. 

Sadly, Yvette seems to be permanently traumatized by MY misadventure. But I found out I could be quiet with my own thoughts and not go insane from the experience.  And, damn, I love that Model A. I would have had a total Ferris Bueller joy ride had it been possible. But I didn't, Uncle Dale, and your baby suffered no harm. What a fabulous car!!

So, I quickly recovered. Today was G-rated cookie day. Well, maybe PG-13. 

The best cookie of the day was my rendition of the Tennessee state flag....

So, that's my vacation so far. Tomorrow is more family time, more Princess time, and more shopping. 

And now I'm going back to the trashy romance I'm reading--although it's not nearly as good as the one I imagined in my head yesterday as I lay wrapped in a blanket in a 1931 Model A with my feet out the window. 

End of my First Semester

Yesterday, at about 1:30 p.m., I finished and saved the final draft of my final paper for the Fall 2015 semester. I wrote a cover email to my professor. I attached the paper. And I paused a moment. Then my chosen drill sergeant, Matthew, screamed "DO IT!!!"  I hit the send button. Raucous cheering from Matthew and Michael. The semester was over. 

I can't believe it's done already. Oh, there are lingering remnants--grades to wait anxiously for, nearly thirty library books to return--but the work itself is complete. I have no clue what my grades will look like. But right this minute, there is no required book to read, no research to do, no paper to write. It's done. 

I can hardly believe what I see when I close my eyes and look back on the past four months. I was so scared of being a GTA but ended up loving it. I had health troubles that I had to take care of. I lost one of my best friends. I cried in front of one of my professors. I had a wonderful holiday with my aunt but wished so badly that my uncle could have been there. And I achingly missed my babies. Yet, somehow, I'm still here in Knoxville, in my tiny flat. 

I haven't had the time or the inclination to blog these past few weeks. Yet I had a wonderful time spending Thanksgiving with my Aunt Mona down in Montgomery, Alabama. Her son's in-laws invited us for Thanksgiving dinner, and I found that southern hospitality is alive and well. And I'm now a devotee of cornbread dressing. Perhaps the best part of Thanksgiving, though, was sitting at my sister's table via FaceTime. I even sat next to Uncle Mannie. But, man, did I ever miss the celery and peanut butter!!

I also learned that my time in the south won't be truly complete until I dip my toes into the Gulf of Mexico--I see a trip to Mobile in my future. 

During my visit with my aunt, the two of us managed to eat ridiculously well. Seriously, I even got some decent Mexican food!!  But it was the southern stuff that tickled me. 

Then there was the sightseeing. While most Alabamians shopped on Black Friday or were glued to their televisions watching the Bama-Auburn game, Mona and I soaked up history at the Confederate Memorial Park, the first White House of the Confederacy, the Alabama statehouse, and the Alabama State Archives. 

I can't thank Mona enough for such a wonderful time. Oh, and her two babies helped assuage some of the longing I feel for my own dingo. 

Now it's time to be thinking about getting my tiny flat in order. While I started out with such good intentions for keeping the place neat--well, the "road to hell..." and all that. Today I've slept late, read a trashy romance, and ate Ho Hos. Tomorrow comes the dishwashing, laundry, book-putting-away, cleaning time. But, for now, I'm going to finish this blog and read some more trash to round out my evening. 

It's been a long four months. And I owe a lot of thanks for helping me through it to the other grad students at UTK. Matthew, Alicia, Adrien, Minami, Tess, Chauntelle, Liz, Nolan, Alex, Brad, Michael, Annie, J., Robert, Maggie--you guys helped me so much!!  And Dr. S., Dr. P., and Dr. F., each of whom was so encouraging. Even Dr. H. gets a thank-you for his patience as I learned out to be a GTA. And my California support team of Mom, Dad, Yvette, Brenda, Phoebe, Tricia, Reiner, Joe, Maddie, and Heidi--can't wait to see you all in person in just a week. 

Enough of the maudlin sentimentality. Knighty-Knight from Knoxville. 

In a Writing Coma

The past two weeks are a blur. Seriously, I can barely remember anything that has happened. Why?  Because I've been in a writing coma. I have written a 31-page paper on textbooks published between 1890 and 1930--and I finished the rough draft tonight. To celebrate, I am in a scalding hot bath surrounded by bubbles in my favorite scent, Bath and Body Works French Lavender and Honey. And I'm catching up on my blogging. (Oh, God!  More writing!)

The constant writing has only been interrupted by the news from Paris. The city I love most in the world suffered a series of attacks from what John Oliver described as a "bunch of flaming assholes."  As horrible as it was, I love the way the world stood in solidarity with France. Or, at least parts of the world.  Mostly who I thought about when it all happened was my buddy Adrien. A young Frenchman, Adrien loves heavy metal, death metal, really anything remotely resembling Motley Crue. He's exactly the kind of guy who would have been at the death metal concert.  The thought of him being hurt as so many young French people were that night makes me furious. I hope the French and the Russians will do what the U.S. won't and blow those "flaming assholes" to smithereens. 

On Monday, after a weekend of nothing but research and writing, I had a one-on-one with Dr. H. about my paper. Mind you, all of us in the class had to do this. I watched as, one by one, my classmates went to his office, all leaving anxiously and returning with smiles. Yeah, that didn't happen to me. I went anxiously--and had a meltdown while in there. It was one of those meltdowns that had me wishing desperately for the touchy-feely guidance of a Debbie Fairweather. Now, that woman knew how to handle a Lorraine meltdown. Not so much for Dr. H.  But I was able to express some concerns that have dogged me since I got here and, after the shame of it all, I actually felt better (tears always make a good catharsis for me).  And he offered one excellent piece of advice. "Write."  Oh, and "take a deep breath."  Two good pieces of advice. I did both. I stopped freaking out about the research and just started to put words on paper. And damned if it didn't help. Writing is always a painful process to begin but, once begun, it makes the hours slip away. And, even though I know this current paper is not my best work, it's still at least a good complete working draft. Done, in this instance, is better than good. 

After the meltdown, I was fortunate to turn to two important comforts--my fellow classmates and pancakes. That night, I went out to IHOP and joined with fellow sufferers in the most ridiculously decadent calorie-fest EVER. And, oh, how I was comforted by the bacon, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. 

Today, in addition to finishing my draft, I held the last of my discussion sections. What began as a nervewrecking exercise turned out to be a very rewarding experience. Students who wouldn't say a word in August came to join in the conversations more and more over the semester. Students who are bright and curious asked questions and made observations. I've gotten to watch as students became better at writing thoughtful analyses of historical texts and took away bits of knowledge that they won't soon forget (no matter how hard some might try). And I went from someone pretending to be a teaching assistant to someone comfortable enough in the role to lead what I hope were fun, stimulating discussions. Wow!  What a ride!

Of course, there's still a lot more to do before the semester is over. A 25-page historiographical essay for Dr. S. and a 10-page analysis for Dr. P. I've got 50+ essays to grade this coming week, plus 50+ final exams beginning December 4. Then there are final grades to tabulate, peer review of my classmates' research papers, and a few more things to read. The life of a grad student....

[disclaimer: I tend to use this blog to not only impress readers with my workload but to remind myself that there's still a lot more to do before I can relax.  Ugh!]

But tonight is about this bath and this blog. It is clear and cold outside, and the trees around my apartment are turning out beautiful fall foliage. Inside, well, it's a bit of a pigpen, I'm nearly out of clean clothes, and my cupboards are bare.  But, in the words of my gal Scarlett....

Knighty-knight from Knoxville....

My Love for AJ

In twenty-fifteen, I took a little trip

Along with my friend Matthew, toward the mighty Mississipp.

I took my credit card, vowed to spend within my means

And I paid my respects to the Hero of New Orleans.

This is a catch-up blog, necessary because I haven't written anything in two weeks.  To say that life has been busy seems inadequate to convey the hectic pace of the past two weeks.  The school semester is flying by, and I'm barely holding my grades together.  After this blogging, I'd damn well better hit the books!

It was just a week ago today and I pointed my beautiful Stella westward along Interstate 40.  Along the way, I picked up pal Matthew, and we headed down the autumny road toward Nashville.  Our destination:  The Hermitage, the home of President Andrew Jackson, the so-called "People's President."  Seriously, I can think of some people who may have a problem with that moniker.  Poor AJ came down on the wrong side of history on several issues.  But, it cannot be denied that he was enormously popular and influential in his day.  If you want to understand the antebellum United States, you'd better make room for AJ in your life.

So, I made room.  The drive westward didn't take too long.  We sped on under a pretty cloudy sky, but that didn't hide the beautiful colors of fall.  The Hermitage proved pretty darn easy to find--I got lost on the way to Matthew's but found AJ's house without a single mis-turn.  Just take Andrew Jackson Boulevard to Rachel's Lane and you'll be right there.

Gotta say--love the "Born for a Storm" name for the current exhibition in the Hermitage Museum.  That's the AJ I love, the dashing soldier who kicked British ass in the War of 1812.  

As we entered the Museum building, we were approached by a very nice greeter lady.  When I told her that we were students of Dr. Daniel Feller, it was like I'd said the magic words.  They LOVE Dr. Feller at the Museum.  The ladies were all so nice to us, hooked us up with tickets to get in and to use the audio wands.  As we began the Museum tour, it wasn't long before we found out just why everyone knows Dr. Feller.  In one of the main exhibit rooms, his handsome face looks out from a TV monitor on the wall, talking all about Jackson.  He's the MAN when it comes to my AJ.

The Museum was wonderful.  The collection of Jackson and Jackson-related objects can't be beat.  So weird seeing the veil that AJ's beloved Rachel wore in some many paintings, the uniform AJ wore on state occasions, his sword, her jewelry.  I paid close attention to the interpretation as well (can't seem to help this any more).  The Museum nicely covers the Corrupt Bargain, one of my favorite historical episodes, especially since I found the song by the same name from the musical Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson.  They may have spent more time on the subject of Indian Removal, but they covered his whole presidency thoroughly but without dwelling on it.  They gave the Bank War about the same space as Indian Removal, which seems fair as both were equally important at the time.

I love the way the timeline reflects AJ's marriage to Rachel.  That first marriage was "unofficial."  Hmmmm.  That's not what they called it at the time (see: bigamy).

Look at Henry Clay in the above--that's pretty damn scary!  Still, I'd bring back the Whig party if I could, especially during this current election season.

Once we finished with the Museum, we walked through the gorgeous grounds on our way to the house itself.  I can easily see why AJ loved this place--its beautiful.  

A costumed docent welcomed us at the front porch of the mansion, and we joined a small tour group. As you pass from room to room, there are different costumed docents waiting to speak to you. While they are dressed in period clothing, they don't try to pretend like we're not all living in 2015.  That's nice.

What I wouldn't give to live in this house!  It's designed to reflect the way the mansion would have looked when AJ came back here to live after his presidency.  Because the home passed directly from the Jackson family to a group that established it as an historic site, almost everything you see inside is actually from AJ's time.  The furnishings are gorgeous, the beds are high and huge, and the wallpaper is so precious that it has its own curator to take care of it.

This is actually a funny matter to me.  My parents have visited the Hermitage, and my dad has talked loudly and long on how damn ugly Rachel's precious Paris-produced wallpaper is.  Well, O.K., so it isn't what we may appreciate today.  The decorative impulse throughout the entire house reflects the classical world, and the wallpaper is no exception.  It looks like a mural, and it tells the story of the journey of Telemachus to find his  father, Odysseus..  It's got a lovely blue background and scenes from the story scttered across it.  I think it's pretty--Dad thinks its ugly.  You decide....

Once we finished the tour of the mansion, Matthew and I walked out to Rachel's garden and to where the Jacksons are buried in the back of that garden.  

AJ had this built for Rachel after she pass and would visit every day when he was at the Hermitage, right up to the point where he couldn't walk any more.  Even then, he had her portrait hanging in his bedroom just where he would see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.  Say what you will about this guy, but there is something special about a man who loves a woman that much.  She was the great love of his life--and I'm such a weepy romantic!!!

Next stop was a strange one--a cotton field.  For the amusement of the Hermitage guests, I guess, a cotton patch lies within eyesight of the mansion and on the path to the slave cabins and the original log cabin that Rachel and Andrew lived in.  Like the two curious historians we are, Matthew and I stepped right in there to pick a few pieces of cotton. 

Oh, yes.  I kept my little pod of cotton.

After the relative luxury of the mansion, the slave cabin stood out as pretty stark.  The interpretation does not spare AJ and his family when it comes to slavery.  While AJ believed that he ran his plantation with a patriarical care for "his people," whoever provided the signage for the slave cabin and throughout the grounds made sure that visitors today could not be inclined to think of this as benevolent.  Slavery was slavery.  AJ sanctioned whipping, the selling apart of familys, etc., just as all slaveholders did.  Have to take the bad with the good when looking back in time.

The best part of the whole day came, as we expected it to, at the gift shop.  We looked at every piece of paraphanelia offered.  Matthew settled on just a tee shirt and coffee mug.  Me?  Not quite so thrifty, in spite of my good intentions.  An early United States map for my office, a Christmas ornament, a gift or two for a few select folks, a guide book, and, of course, a tee shirt.  Weren't Matthew and I cute when we wore our matching shirts the following Monday?  Dr. H. just shook his head.

The drive home seemed to take much longer, but we were both very satisfied with our visit.  Now its time to think of my next historic road trip, probably not until I head down to Montgomery for Thanksgiving with my Aunt Mona.  She's already cooking up lots of Confederate fun for us!

So, this has already been a long blog, so I'll sum up the rest of these past two weeks by saying workd, work, work.  And that's why I'm going to do now as well.

Until next week....

Finding my Footing

Sometimes I feel like I'm still finding my footing, still getting my bearings here in Knoxville.  Becoming accustomed to a new town, a new school, the heavy demands of being a doctoral student, etc., all seem overwhelming at times.  Still, I wouldn't change this for the world.

This week I behaved exactly as I would counsel an undergrad not to behave.  After the hideousness of the dental visit, I gave myself a couple of days to recover before hitting the schoolbooks again.  This meant rushing around at the last possible minute to finish up the two annotated bibliographies that were due this week.  For my research project, I gave Dr. H. a list of fourteen secondary sources.  For my gender class, I presented Dr. S. with nineteen books which I will use to write a historiographical paper.  Thank goodness that Dr. P. didn't have a paper due this week!

At the same time as I'm trying to catch up on reading and writing, this past week saw the arrival of three new pieces of furniture for my tiny flat.  First to arrive was a new television for my living room.  Up to this point, I've been living with just my little 19-inch television in the living room and no television in the bedroom.  I finally succumbed and bought a 29-inch television, far smaller than the 40-inch model my sister recommended.  Seriously, 29 inches of the HD-enhanced face of Representative Trey Goudy from South Carolina last night on CNN is about all I can take.  

Second new piece was a little cabinet upon which to set my printer.  My desk is big enough for me and my laptop, but not for a printer.  So, I ordered a darling little cabinet from Target and had it delivered.  I knew it would require installation, but I had no idea it would be such an ordeal.  It seems like logic and careful adherance to the instructions should render any construction of furniture rather easy.  NO!  It took over two hours to put together a little cabinet with one shelf and one door.  Than, the next piece arrived--a similar cabinet, but bigger, with several shelves and two doors.  Quelle nightmare!  It literally took me as long to put together as it took the Cubs to lose game three against the Mets.  Yes, I had baseball on in the background while I undertook furniture construction.  As the Mets celebrated, I arranged the new TV on the new cabinet.  Then I fell into bed, exhausted by my efforts.

Tomorrow should mark the arrival of my new bed.  This got me thinking this week that I should probably start looking into replacing Heidi's air mattress (it does not hold air as much as it did when I borrowed it from her--that's why she is deserving of a brand new one). I saw this sign for a business off Kingston Pike, not far from my tiny flat.

Looks like a sporting goods store, no?  No.  I mentioned that I would be stopping in here to the boys in the party office, explaining that it was close by and I wanted to buy a new camping mattress.  Hoots of laughter rang out from those naughty boys as they proceeded to tell me that the "twin peaks" shown as two snow-capped mountains did not actually refer to "mountains."  According to Jay, this place is Knoxville's "indiginous Hooter's!"  Yes, its a restaurant/bar known for waitresses with big boobs.  And I expected to find camping equipment.  See what I mean about finding my footing?

Back in the academic world....

Wednesday night was the annual Charles Jackson Memorial Lecture.  Charles Jackson was a long-time professor of history here at UTK, and his family provides funding for a distinguished professor from another university to come each year to lecture.  This year's lecture was provided by Dr. Charles Noll from Notre Dame.  Dr. Noll spoke on the topic of the Bible in the Civil War, focusing on how biblical language was used to both denounce and defend slavery before the war and what the Bible meant to the men in the armies.  Almost all of the American History grad students were there, as well many of my undergrad students for whom attendance meant extra credit.  

Alicia and Minami in the photo above seem especially excited to be attending the lecture.  It was actually a good lecture, and Alicia did behave herself (which is more than I can say for the lady sitting in front of her who came in late, kept looking back over her left shoulder to someone else in the audience, and played on her phone).

Only one more hour here in my office before I get to escape for the weekend.  Not that the weekend will be much of an escape, as I've got plenty of work to do, but at least I'll be doing it while watching the game against "Bama" on my new 29-inch, not 40-inch, television.

GO VOLS!!

Overcoming Some Demons

Kinda glad to see this week coming to an end. I forced myself to overcome my greatest fear--then rewarded myself with some new furniture. And I did it all while suffering from some serious pain. 

The saga began last Friday with an innocent little toothache. I determined to apply some DIY remedies over the weekend, but, by Monday, I looked like I was storing nuts for the winter. I went to class anyway, then explained to Dr. H. my condition and continuing efforts to heal myself. He seemed dubious--and he was right. Echoing his doubt was Tricia, who, upon hearing of my condition, began worrying on my behalf.

By Tuesday, it was clear that home remedies were not working, damnit!  I did some quick Google and Yelp research and settled on Cornerstone Dental. Carrying enough anxiety and pain to send my blood pressure through the roof, I presented myself at the beautiful office just ten minutes away down Kingston Pike. 

Here's what I learned on my dental crusade:  a Southern drawl goes a remarkably long way to easing anxiety. Both the assistant and the dentist had beautiful, honey-sweet accents; I loved it!  While I settled for antibiotics and painkillers for now, my plan is to have more work done by these dulcet-toned dental professionals in the near future. 

Having conquered that particular toothy demon, I determined to give myself a little treat. Finally, after two months of sleeping on Heidi's air mattress, I bought myself a bed. It's not too showy, as beds go, but I splurged for a decent mattress. After all, I tend to keep my beds and mattresses for decades--it's worth at least starting out with something good. And spending a little more for my own benefit made Yvwtte happy; she's very steadfast in her faith in a good mattress. 

The new bed should arrive a week from tomorrow. But, even before then, I should be the happy owner of a new entertainment center and television for my living room. I feel a little decadent spending so much, but my beautiful tiny flat deserves to be adorably furnished. 

This weekend will be spent catching up on all the things I let slip because of severe dental pain. In between writing an annotated bibliography and finishing up papers to be graded, I'm hoping to unpack a few more boxes in the guest room. And a trip to the "package store" might be in line. I met a neighbor today who suggests that I try apple pie moonshine. I'm not sure this is advisable, but what the hell. I'm living in the South now. And when in Rome....

Moonshine?  Really?  

If Its Friday, It Must Be Blog Time

Cloudy skies outside my window, a new pile of nearly sixty papers to grade, and the sound of voices from the party office--yes, its Friday and I'm blogging.

Its been a week of highs and lows.  I've mostly been focused on a horrible paper I had to write, comparing Pierre Bourdieu's Distinction with Sven Beckert's Empire of Cotton.  Trust me when I tell you, these books have absolutely nothing in common.  So, I stressed and stressed and stressed, seeking something to write about them that would make sense.  I'm not sure I succeeded in the sense-making part but I did come up with five pages.  Dr. Phillips will have the last word on this, I'm afraid.

I'm coming more and more to rely on my classmates here for support.  It was Chantalle who pointed out the convenience of the nearby Chipotle.  With just two short extra blocks, Chipotle can be found on the walk between Dunford Hall and the lot where I park my car.  For just a two-minute ride to her on-campus housing, Chantalle is a ready companion when I'm needing a Chipotle fix.  Of course, I miss my "school brats" from Sacramento, Matty, Alex, and Vanessa, when I chow down on that chicken burrito bowl, but, damn, it tastes so good!  

It was Chantalle as well who came with me to the Black History Matters presentation of the documentary Slavery by Another Name.  Free pizza was provided by the department, while Chantalle supplemented our dinner with Diet Cokes and M&Ms.  The film was a fascinating look into the practices of convict leasing and debt peonage in the South following the Civil War and into the twentieth century.  Chantalle got to look good in front of her advisor, who was one of the coordinators of the film showing, and we both looked good to History Department head, Dr. Freeburg, who was also in attendance.  Score!

On Wednesday night, it was dinner in the student union with another group of colleagues.  This was Tess, Max, Nolan, and Dr. Hutton (but call him Bob--he insists).  We all happened to be in our offices on the fifth floor here in Dunford when 5:00 p.m. rolled around.  So we went to dinner together across the street--and I discovered a Panda-Express-by-another-name.  Delicious orange chicken and steamed rice, along with excellent conversation, just put me in the best mood.

O.K., this blog seems to be a lot about food.  And, I'm eating crackers, turkey, and cheese while I'm writing.  Note to family:  I am not starving in Tennessee.  Oh, and let's not forget my trip to Buttermilk Sky pie shop this week.  Their I-40 special pie, chocolate, pecans, and coconut, was heaven on earth.

I took some pix of the party office this week, as promised in an earlier blog.  This is the best place on campus to vent when you're feeling knocked around.

That's Jay looking at the white board, which features a picture of a panda bear and a brilliant drawing of Donald Trump--with blue hair.

Hanging out in the party office has been especially necessary this week, as I recently had an experience that I can only compare to the martyrdom of Saint Lawrence.  Saint Lawrence, you devoted readers may recall from the visit Heidi and I made to his church in Rome, was martyred by being placed on a grill-like surface and, well, bar-b-qued to death.  Swear to God, a similar thing happened to me this week when I innocently confessed that I did not understand how enslaved people helped bring about the American Revolution.  Here's how I felt while being "corrected" on my poor knowledge of history....

As for today, I think only my sister will understand what happened to me.  I was walking from my second discussion group to my third, happily talking with one of my students who was walking in the same direction.  One minute we're walking and talking, the next I'm slow-motion dropping to my knees.  Just like on the K Street Mall, just like in Las Vegas--I fell over my own damn feet.  To Kathleen and Marijo, who understood, along with Tricia and I, that you are not grown up until you don't have skinned knees, I can only confess that I have regressed quite a bit.

Of course, I'm fine.  Those slow-motion falls hurt nothing but my stockings and my pride.  And my student was so nice and concerned for me.  I'm really starting to be fond of some of these kids who do their best to participate in discussion section and then do not laugh (like Tricia surely would have) when I tumble to the ground.

So, that's all that's going on here in Knoxville.  This weekend, I'm hoping the NASCAR race won't be rained out in Charlotte.  I'm less than hopeful of the Vols in their football battle against those damn Georgia Bulldogs.  My fridge is stocked with Diet Coke, and I still have two little pies waiting for me.

Damn, it really is all about the food....