Love Bug Season

It's officially getting to be the spring season for love bugs. Named for their alarmingly enthusiastic mating habits (the female drags the attached male with her wherever she goes, even bearing him aloft, despite his being limp and unhelpful, during flight) the Wikipedia article I found states that the spring season runs from late April through early May, and sure enough just the day before yesterday I started to note the familiar pop-pop-pop of bursting love-bugs on the windshield of our little Honda. The fall season for love bugs runs from late August through early September, so, Tasik, if we still happen to be down here, and you still happen to be planning a trip to visit, bear that fact in mind, as the acidity of their smooshed guts is known to leave pits and etches in automotive paint and chrome, and they are far more numerous than you'd think. The Wikipedia article referenced above suggests applying a "vegetable coating", whatever that is, to prevent the bug-guts from sticking to your car.

Yet another reason NOT to live in Southwest Florida. There seems to be no shortage of those.

"Whatever I do, I want to be able to do it well. 98% of all academic employment will bar me from being able to do that. For the most part, the academic system itself necessitates mindless mediocrity. I just can't live with that all of my life."

Mulling this one over. This is the most comprehensible account he's given me yet. Not that his other explanations were crazy or anything - far from it. It's just that my personality didn't relate to them very well. I'm a fighter by nature, so the concept of difficulty doesn't always evoke a sympathetic response, no matter how much I want it to. I almost always regard every trial as an invitation to a duel, no matter how long and no matter how impossible it may be to win. Moreover, the claim that I don't understand how it is to undergo some particular tribulation doesn't help me to true sympathy, either, because in all honesty, given the same circumstances, I'd probably NOT feel the same way. I'd still be in the middle of it all with both fists swinging, lashing everyone with my tongue, loosing my wrath on all who stood in my way - - in short, giving people nightmares. Now, mitigating the severity of these personality-driven shortcomings is the knowledge that this part of my temperament can be good, and it can also be very, very bad. I am not typically at all lacking for spiritedness, but often it escapes the mean of courage and goes over into the extreme of wrecklessnes, trampling Christian charity and undoing all the good I may originally intend to work for.

Now, back to the above account, this does seem rather reasonable. Why risk dooming oneself to a life of academic mediocrity, or, dare I say, academic ineptitude, as it ought to be conceded that most standard-model academic institutions are far worse than mediocre? Most institutions fail of their purpose entirely - - teaching nothing, learning nothing, publishing ever increasing mounds of printed blather and never, even remotely, pursuing She who is called "Wisdom". Surely, one could draw much greater fulfillment out of doing something practical extraordinarily well? I always thought this when I was young, (sarcastically, you think, "When you were young? Pray tell, what are you now? OLD?" . . . okay, by young I mean "When I was seventeen.") bravely defending my theory that even the humblest farmer should be a philosopher. I was never disproven on this point, just distracted from it, and I still find it necessary to hold that every man, of every employ, should philsophize - not merely because he wants to further the progress of some academic field (whatever that means), but simply because it is the perfection of his human rationality to contemplate higher things.

I have observed in the past that my husband can really enjoy everyday work. Practical labor doesn't bore him at all, surprisingly enough, for all of his intellectual talent. However, there is no debating the fact that he is uncommonly gifted - his powers encompass a beautiful balance of the best virtues I ever observed in my classmates. He has similar powers of retention to those of Dr. Phil, as well as a similar depth, or penetration, to that of the fittingly-named wise man. Moreover, he possesses a quiet, soothing logic similar to Anna's (that is, if you are docile enough to be guided - his patience falls short of the saintly lady to whom I refer, but whose doesn't?). In some ways, it chafes me that these talents may go unheeded by the world, but then again that's very vain of me. My husband is not ambitious, although lately I've been forced to admit that maybe I am, and in that realization I must admit that I really am a very silly girl, indeed.

Terence, the Assitant Director of the library where I am currently employed, sympathizes with my husband's disappointments entirely. Terence has been a very interesting co-worker to associate with. He is uncommonly well-educated, having several degrees in mathematics, classics and medieval studies from some well-respected institutions in Canada (the University of Toronto and PIMS, to be specific) during their "golden ages" - i.e., a good long while ago. He likewise asserts that sharing and pursuing wisdom on an everyday level will likely be a million times more effective than attempting to do so in academia, where flattery and pointless publishing are sure to devour most of your time and energy, forever removing you from true leisure, which is a necessary prerequisite for real philosophy. "We work so that we may not-be-at-work" is a long-forgotten concept in Kantian academia, where even the intellectual life is thought of as a fever of dutiful and difficult productivity.

So, in short, I am reconciling myself to the changes that are most certainly coming, and coming soon. There is no doubt that they are the will of God.

Quiche

So, I've been less motivated to cook and clean lately. Not really sure why, but it's indeniable - I just don't want to do it.

I'm not sure what the solution is to the cleaning problem, but as for the cooking problem, I decided that it might be a good idea for me to take some photos of my meals so I can show them off here. :) I'll include recipes with them, too, so that you can make them yourself.

(Proviso: I am not an experienced cook, but I have gathered that I'm, nevertheless, more experienced than some, if only by exposure to food that tasted really good in my youth. Hope this is useful for someone.)



Quiche is a little time consuming in the beginning, but all the steps are incredibly easy. Moreover, it tastes wonderful, and it's the only egg-dominant meal I know of which still tastes great as a leftover (in fact, you don't even need to bother warming it up, because it's great cold - - unless eating cold food gives you the heebie-jeebies, that is. I know some people who are like that.)

First, here's my grandmother's pie-dough recipe (which I'd thought was my father's recipe, as he was primarily the one who make it). NOTA BENE: Measure everything very carefully - - this is one of those recipes where the ratios have to be just right or weird things happen.

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup shortening

- - - cut shortening into flour with pastry cutter or knives used scissor-fashion (you know the drill), until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Beat 1 egg in bowl
Add 1 T. vinegar
then add 5 T. water

- - - add liquid mixture to the flour mixture. I recommend digging in with your hands instead of attempting to use a spatula - it mixes it better, faster.

Roll out the pie-dough on a VERY well-floured surface (I prefer to use a pastry cloth) until it's as thin as your tastes prefer. Roll the pie-dough up around the rolling pin carefully (I prefer to lift up the edges of my pastry cloth to support the dough and keep it from tearing) - - as if the rolling pin were a spool and the pie-dough a cloth. Then roll it back out over your pie or tart pan.
I've found this to be the most reliable way to keep anything from tearing. My mother-in-law taught me how to do it, and says she learned it from a Sissy Spacek movie. *shrug* Go figure - movies CAN teach you useful things.

This recipe makes enough pie dough for 2-3 quiches. Pie dough saves well - just put it in a ziplock and throw it in the fridge. Allow the leftovers to "thaw" a bit before trying to roll them out.

Now for the filling:

4 eggs
1 cup milk (evaporated milk or light cream works even better)
spices

- beat well -

Now, those are the only essential components of the filling. What else goes in is entirely up to your discretion, and often you can just grab whatever leftover bits of meat and veggie you have in your fridge, using spices that fit them.

Now, first, bake your pie-crust at 475 for 5 minutes (this helps make it flakey), then turn the oven down to 350 degrees and add your ingredients:

For the Quiche pictured above I added the following:

generous sprinkling of garlic powder (using the sniff-test to determine whether it was sufficiently garlic-ed) - - added into the egg/milk mixture, of course

three slices of hickory-smoked ham, diced
about 1/8 of a green pepper, diced
1 roma tomato, diced
a palm-full of mushrooms, diced
a generous amount of asagio, parmesan and romano cheese

- - - You sprinkle the latter group of incredients into your hot pie-shell and then pour your milk/eggs/spices mixture over the top.

It should bake at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes, give or take, depending on your oven. The quiche will stop "jiggling" and a knife inserted into the center will come out clean when done.

Other ingredients I have used:
baked turkey
ground mustard
bacon
swiss cheese
red peppers
onion/onion flakes
spinach
feta cheese
chicken breast

P.S. - obviously, from the picture, I like serving this with white wine. This is highly recommended. ;)

A Division of Strengths

I've noticed that, when students are giving an account for why they/prefer like some professor/tutor, they are likely to give certain kinds of answers. Thinking about why this was, I came to the following division, and I think it's rather exhaustive:

A professor/tutor can be preferred according to

I. An excellence with regard to the object of his science (matter)
-and/or-
II. An excellence with regard to the method of his science (form)

With regard to the first, a perfection may be perceived according to

A. The depth/dignity of the concepts grasped and taught
-and/or-
B. The variety of concepts/points of view presented on some subject

With regard to the second division, a perfection may be perceived according to

A. Will - - often includes the use of difficulty and/or fear of humiliation to motivate students.
B. Intellect - - maintainance of good order in discussions, a logical progression of ideas suggested, encouraged, expended and demonstrated
C. Passion - - deep enthusiasm or love for the subject presented

It seems to me that having a balance of all these strengths makes for the highest level of pedagogical perfection, while an overemphasis on some one strength can render a professor unsuccessful, highly disliked, or both. Some of these are very obvious - who didn't have that one teacher who was all enthusiasm, no brain? Who didn't fret over the high demands of some course, or tolerate the bragging of a classmate who demonstrated greater proficiency in some area of study, due to the fact that their professor was the academic equivalent of a drill sargeant? Admittedly, there are some strengths which are less likely to result in such a dilemma, such as option II-B -- however, without enthusiasm and good humor, even the most logical of classes can be too dry an environment for intellectual growth - moreover, without honourable material (I-A), logical order tends to lose it's charm, i.e., a masterfully logical class on the anatomic structure of the small intestine would generally lack the ability to enthrall most people.

Does this seem fair to you, oh tiny little group of readers?

morning funny . . .

"Honey, I'm going to work now. You should probably get up or you won't be around in time to meet me for mass."

Husband groans, turns over.

"Not feeling rested, huh?" I ask.

"I dreamed that I was reading War and Peace again. I read 600 pages last night, so now I'm worn out. I need more sleep."

. . .

Management Schmanagement

My week in a nutshell . . .





(Click on the above photo to see it in full resolution.)

The hubby says I need to think of this as an opportunity to grow in my management skills.

. . .

The one and only nice thing about southwestern Florida

My very irish hubby slathering on the sunscreen so as to avoid getting crispy. If only I had done the same . . . I mean, to be fair to myself, I used to be able to handle an hour/hour and a half of sun back in my CA college girl days - no sweat. But, alas, it seems that my cushy desk job has put an end to that. I am now naught but an animate pile of peeley grossness. Yuck.



Our towels and handy-dandy fold-up camp chairs. Very comfy for beach sitting.



Not a particularly flattering angle on my legs, but hey, the shot is kinda cute, anyway.



You've just gotta love the tilly hat. ;)











SO . . . MANY . . . SHELLS . . . !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Florida Photo Montage

Sampling of some shots of my current place of employment - i.e., Canizaro Library. The last shot is of the furniture in the 24-hour reading room, which I had just rearranged to solve some practical problems caused by idiotic design (e.g., electrical outlets in completely inaccessible places). There's this big pseudo-philosophical argument about whether function should follow form or form follow function, and everyone's always bringing that up as the root cause of our (i.e., the librarians') dissatisfaction with this place, but as far as I'm concerned the buildings here are so ugly the whole debate is positively moot. Form indeed. Form of what, may I ask? A cannery? We sacrificed functionality in order to achieve the perfect form of a flipping cannery?

Oi.





Some nighttime pictures of the oratory, taken by the hubby. Please ignore the me that fouls up the second shot.





Not my best shots ever, to say the least, but I thought I'd put them up anyway. These are from a baby shower for a wife/baby of a graduate student (in Matthew's graduating class). Gives you some insight into the community of young mothers and very very young children that are make up my only social circle. I think, as of right now, I'm one of two graduate wives that *aren't* pregnant - and there are 30 some-odd grad students, most of them married. Yeah.

The woman in the last photo is really sweet - if I could find a way to spend more time with her it would be great, but unfortunately she lives in Fort Myers, having graduated from the masters program last December (her husband has a good job up in Fort Myers - there is really no reason for them to live here at Ave town, whatsover). She reminds me of what my mother was probably like as a young mom - realistic, but totally unfamiliar with babies and all things related to babies. She gives me this pathetic look of disgust when I point out things about her baby, Ollie, like, "Oh - he's focusing on things now. He's probably connecting to people a lot more now, isn't he?", "YES. Now, if I'd know that this was going to happen before, it would've made my life a heckuva lot easier. Why didn't someone tell me about it? WHY???" :) I am really, really, really, really thankful that I was the oldest child in a large(ish) family. It is going to save me from oodles of stress.

. . . However, on the flip side, I can't help but observe that in the meantime my experience seems to be adding oodles of stress. Meaning: I go to these graduate school parties, and am forced to watch all the 'young inexperienced mom' parenting skills, and then I twitch for days. Gosh, they're just kids, people. I mean, gee, sure, take your parenting seriously but for heaven's sake, you need a chill pill!! So, your Suzie inadvertently knocked over so-and-so's wobbley toddler - it's really not that big a deal. He's a toddler - chances are he's made of rubber.





Hubby and his bike. He loves to ride, and theoretically Florida would be a pleasant place to do so, being flatter than Western Kansas (no, I'm not even kidding - it's a swamp, so it is flat - if it were not flat, it would not be as much of a swamp, now, would it?) - - - however, the wind in Southwest Florida is so strong and so consistent (i.e., not gusty - long, hard, constant wind) that it's still a very challenging place to ride.

\

Houseplants - - no, they're not the most interesting thing ever, but the hubby dotes over any and every living thing in his care. These are very well taken care of houseplants, and he is very proud of them.



The yellow angel fish I got for my husband on his birthday in February. It seems to be a lot more outgoing and intelligent fish than most of the other kinds we have in our 20 gallon tank, so it's been a lot of fun to watch him.



GREAT BIG MOTH - courtesy of southwest Florida. Boy oh boy.

Soundtrack for Holy Week

St. Matthew's Passion, by Johann Sebastian Bach.

I also highly recommend doing some research on the piece itself - I once heard a great lecture about it in college. Although the particulars have long since flown from memory, I remember thinking that it was a very interesting and profound piece.

. . . When will I ever learn to just wear the stupid sunscreen? . . .

:( !

Anxiety

Okay . . . it's official . . . I'm starting to feel pretty twitchy.

I guess what probably triggered it was having to tell my co-worker that I could only conditionally agree to work the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, based on whether or not we still live here.

*^%& this state of uncertainty, I say. %$*& it all to heck.

Blog hopping . . .

So, I'm in a better mood, if not a great one. I'm trying to reconcile myself to the fact that my life is going to be 'smaller' from here on out, so it's up to me to adjust. The first step towards obtaining realistic, Christian optimism is adjusting your expectations.

However, still not quite being adjusted to this, and lacking the opportunities and the resources to talk to *real people*, I've turned to the internet. LOL. Don't worry - I won't make a habit of it.

I've been hopping from linked blog to linked blog here, starting with my friends' blogs and branching out from there. It's weird - if you dig deep enough in people's back posts and pay close enough attention to what they say, it's not too hard to find blog written by people you already know or who are at least people related to people you know.

One of said blogs revealed this highly entertaining photo journal. It's a series of masterfully artistic shots, illustrating a wide range of people and the food they eat for breakfast. I love the way he composed the shots so as to be faithful to the character of morning light, and I think the fact that the people were very obviously photographed in the morning is absolutely hilarious. This shot is my favorite (esp. note the wet hair - I do definitely do that every day):



Also, just so you know, I've been scribbling pages of interesting half-thunk thinkings for weeks now. I just need to actually take some time and put them out onto the ol' blog. :) So, worry not, more interesting things are (eventually) coming your way.

Lonliness

If there is one facet of my newly-married life that I did not expect, it's the lonliness.

It never occurs to me how lonely I am in the day-to-day, happily cleaning my little space, working my little job and cooking our little meals. Don't get me wrong - it's not like I don't enjoy everything about the things I'm doing. I wholeheartedly do.

It never becomes obvious to me that I'm lonely at all until I participate in a social activity some sort, and I can see myself with my inner scrutiy, as it were, from the outside. That's when I become painfully aware that my behaviour reflects incredibly nerdy, manic hyperactivity. I'm positiely starving for contact with human beings. It's shameful I tell you. SHAMEFUL.

Now, I was always talkative and overzealous for social interaction: you should see the family videos displaying Emily Anne at the ages of 2 and 3. They're downright scary. But DARNIT . . . I thought I'd grown out of that.

For instance, when I was at college, I more frequently witnessed myself lying back, relaxing, and just letting social activity "happen", as it were. It was, overall, a more successful way to socialize: I listened to others more often, and it gave everyone else a much more honest representation of my thoughts and personality. I *want* to go back to behaving that way . . . I know what will happen if I don't. I will continue to remain disconnected, socially adrift - and most of all very lonely. However, I have a hunch that the only reason I'm manic in the first place is precisely because I'm lonely.

If only I could break the cycle . . .

Last week, there were a couple of days when severe thunderstorms were roaring through the area. I waited to head out to work one of these stormy mornings until the weather had settled down a bit, and although I'd taken an umbrella, it wasn't raining so I didn't have it up. Walking along the sidewalk, I was quietly minding my own business when I was hit full in the face with a spray of cold water. Confused, I went to put my umbrella up, when I realized that my impromptu shower had been courtesy of this fellow:



Shaking himself dry on the lampost overhanging the sidewalk, he decided to play a joke on me and then sing his little head off as if nothing had happened.

The little brat.

They might not nest in the corncribs, but evidently they're not without some inclination towards mischief . . .

Blah

I am newly married, it's Valentine's Day, and I am stuck at work until 9.

So, of course, this is bad . . .

What's worse: There isn't any *work* to do, really, since there is nobody here, and my other projects require access to items that cannot easily be obtained/brought to the front desk.

What's even worser: My brain is full of thinkings, and it hurts. I sorta want to write them down, but then again I don't. I'm tired, since this afternoon I cleaned the "dormpartment" from top to bottom in anticipation of not being able to do so this weekend (we will be visiting my father, who is in Orlando on business). I don't really feel up to transforming my half-thought thinkings into names, predications, syllogisms, arguments.

Then again, I full well know that all these annoying thoughts will keep rattling around in my head, vaguely relating themselves to one another, until I give them concrete form. I already tried splattering my husband with them this afternoon, thinking that would help, but it didn't. I don't have to be any more specific with my husband than I do with the inside of my own brain - we communicate on intellectual matters almost flawlessly, since in some weird way our minds are exactly similar. I don't even have to finish my sentences and he knows precisely what I mean 99.9999% of the time, and I guess I wouldn't want it to be any other way . . . so my thoughts remain a little nebulous and VERY disorganized.

Paper is the only thing that forces me to employ any kind of formal structure.

So, even if I'm tired, I suppose I can fight the worst of the problems I have right now. The other two annoyances will resolve on their own . . .

. . . in about 37 minutes (WOOT) . . .

(scribble scribble)

Leisure

What is it? Is it simply the time to do something or is it the doing of something important or worthwhile? I'm not so silly as to think it has something to do with owning a boat, going on cruises or surfing. (Aside: why do most culturally-established "leisure activities" have something to do with water? E.g., the picture above was the first hit on a Google image search for "leisure". What's up with that? . . . but I digress . . .)

To descend from the intangible philosophical question into the reality of practical affairs: I'm really in a quandry as to what activities I should be employing in the minute bits of "free time" I possess. I feel as if it's important that I reinstitute some kind of intellecually worthwhile activity, but, which one?

Should I read more Chesterton? I mean, I list him third in the short list of life-shaping obsessions I possess, and all in all I've only ever managed to give serious time and thought to one of his books, a handfull of his essays and a smattering of his poems. At that rate I think I've given more serious thought to the works of Descartes (per force of it being assigned as homework, mind you. Modern philosophy is not leisure reading.), and that's just wrong.

However, Chesterton wrote little "enjoyment-oriented" fiction (most of it is that transcendental sort of fiction and/or poetry meant to let you float through intangible truths) and I'm not sure I find his preferred literary modes, fiction or non, very recreational. His works of theological and philosophical intent are difficult for me to take seriously and study, as his profound distractibility jumps from one thing to another, in a way that would be delightful if you didn't take it all too seriously and/or literally. However, I've been rigourously trained into an Aristotelian love of brevity that hungers and thirsts for clear, concise, syllogistic form. Due to this, Chesterton's somewhat erratic treatment of important ideas annoys me a great deal these days. I can no longer bring myself to devour Chesterton's intellectual works - I can only nibble.

Then, there are any number of intellecual treatises I could be reading, many of which are plenty systematic and quite worthwhile. My husband occasionally tries to tempt me to some of them, pointing at the piles of volumes he's required to peruse for classes. I know he misses the theoretically engaging aspect of our early relationship - fortunately for us we are also well-matched on nearly every aspect of the practical realm, so losing depth in the intellectual connection post-TAC has caused less pain than it has for other married grads I know. He still misses that, though - as do I. Last weekend there was a Humanae Vitae conference here at the University, and I made a point of attending the closing lecture (the only one I could manage with last weekend's work schedule). It was undoubtedly the best lecture of the event, given by Dr. Michael Waldstein, who is fantastically gifted, especially in the realm of answering questions. It sparked an evening full of discussion between my husband and I which was thouroughly delightful. I can remember noting how much I must be starving the deeper parts of my brain these days, such was the urgency with which I devoured every bit of the exchange. Yeeeaaaaah. So, uh, maybe I should try reading more deep stuff before my brain dies of malnourishment.

But, then again . . .

There lies this bothersome question regarding these pesky little things called my talents. I've been talking since I was 10 months old, and to this day I continue to delight in communication. Correction: as my husband pointed out, my delight is not so much in communication as in talking, as my powers of listening are decidedly limited in their scope. (Did I ever tell you how annoyingly perceptive my husband is?) Thus follows the great enjoyment I derive from talking to inanimate things like paper or webpage interfaces - I never have to listen to a thing they say so I can talk talk talk to my heart's content. Now, my love of talking led to developing a knack for "turning phrases", especially on subjects about which I am more than usually passionate. That being the case, I can't help but think it would be a good exercise to develop those talents more carefully, to indulge in venting the half-thought thinkings that float through my distracted brain all day. Whether that would be in the form of blogging or more formal composition, I don't know, but I know it's an activity I'm inclined towards and which some people insist I ought pursue.

*SIGH*

[Student returns some books. I check them in. *Beek* *Beek* *Beek* . . . ]

Ooooo, what is this?
(Reading)

Hmmmm

Meet "Vista", the newest Microsoft Office upgrade, complete with trippy, dificult to find/navigate menus and hokey remodeled user interface. Our I.T. department installed it onto all the staff computers this past week, which is good in a way, because we have to be compatible with the student-use computers and those are all running on Vista. However, from the last several days of use, I can already tell that Vista and I are not going to get along real great.

February 2nd

Happy Groundhog Day!

I wish this rodent's weird forecast could hold true for Southern Florida . . .

. . . but it never, ever could . . .

*sigh*

I sympathize . . .

This is the one mentioned in my reply to tasik: