Commencement day...

9 May 2026: Another good and busy day--two graduation ceremonies, lots of time with folks I am fond of between the ceremonies and then after, then pizza and a movie with Carrie and Rachel (we watched Sentimental Value--very good!).

Just a lot to be grateful for...

Pre-commencement running...

8 May 2026: Two graduation rehearsals this morning, then back home to do some cleaning in preparation for the Sigma Tau Delta end-of-the-year get-together, then back to campus for the Education pinning ceremony, then back home for the get-together...

It's something to be tired before graduation day, but I'll take it. All good and fun things!

Not all chair-dancing is grading-related...

7 May 2026: Just hit "submit" on the final set of documents for our Writing and Rhetoric textbook, a real bear of a project that is--for now--done! 

Found myself chair-dancing as I hit that button as this song was playing...

"The sun is but a morning star"

6 May 2026: Henry David Thoreau, among the writers who changed my life, died 164 years ago today. It says something, I know, about my state these days that I find thinking about his dying makes me emotional. Apparently, among his last words were "Now comes good sailing," which is an idea almost too beautiful to think about. 

He's been on my mind these past few days, both for this post's title--the final line of Walden--and for an earlier passage in the book, where he talks about "contracting yourselves into a nutshell of civility or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity." Two seemingly different vibes in those lines, but put them together and you have a pretty good sense of what he's up to in Walden. 

I am grateful that his words come to me when I need them.

Early evening morosity...

5 May 2026: Here are some utterly banal but true statements, based on my recent and current experience and, with some liberty, the experience of my siblings:  

It is a kind of torture to be far from a parent who is dying. Much of it is also somehow easier than being closer. 

So, too, is it a kind of torture to be close to a parent who is dying. Parts of it are also somehow easier than being far away.

(The folks on the ground have the greater burden, I know. It's not even close.) 

Dead week meetings...

4 May 2026: I spent a big portion of today in meetings with my colleagues talking about teaching and writing. It was interesting, affirming, energizing, and just all-around wonderful. Best job in the world. 

Elmer!

3 May 2026: Well, this story lifted me out of some Sunday evening blues...

"The next day, veterinarians soaked Elmer in more oil and gave him multiple baths until most of the glue was gone. He gently headbutted shelter employees’ legs in the following days, seeming to ask for more massages. 'He honestly feels like every day is spa day,' said Cassie Davidson, a spokeswoman for the Humane Society of North Texas."

When I got to the part about his foster mom getting to keep him, I cried. (Of course I did.)

We did, indeed, have time, baby...

2 May 2026: Just finished the second season of School Spirits, not bad considering what I posted a last Friday. But sure enough, with some of my regular TV shows going on hiatus and work slowing down just enough, I got to enjoy every episode and can cross this one off my "to be watched" list. 

Onto the next one...

Five months...

1 May 2026: The new month kind of snuck up on me, but it is, indeed May 1. On my walk this afternoon, I realized it's been five months since my dad died. 

For the most part, I think I am handling this grief pretty well. It is still so hard and sad. I still find myself thinking, "I should tell him that" or "Dad would like this..." and then remember that he's gone, well...more times than I could have imagined. But I think all of that is pretty normal. 

The other stuff that's come rushing in since he died--Brandon's death, worrying about Vogel, my cousin's death, my mom's illness, so much work stress, and everything our government is up to--it's overwhelming. 

Maybe there's a gift in a quiet moment like this one, just thinking about him. 

So...it's been five months. There's been good stuff, too. And we're still here. And it's May, maybe my favorite month?

The lilac bush behind Knutti is in bloom. I snapped some sprigs to bring home. As I write this, they are filling the first floor with their fragrance. Another gift of May and everything that Spring represents.

Spring 2026 Grading: DONE!

30 April 2026: Just hit submit on the last set of grades. As always, feels good. Like last semester, though, finishing this time seems different. Surreal and...anti-climactic? Or maybe just weird because what's ahead is so unsettled. It's hard to imagine what the next few months will look like...

But we must do what we must do. Chair-dancing resumes.

Pulled up Pandora, which offered me this tropical (and thus summer-y?) classic. 

 

This song will never not make me think of a parody version that I heard second-hand from an elementary school classmate, who heard it on the radio: "Last night I dream of some bagels..." I can't remember all of lyrics, but I believe they included "with butter dripping off the sides / poppy seeds, you decide..." Do I even need to remind you that I grew up on Long Island?

Speaking of Long Island, Pandora is now playing Taylor Dayne's "Tell It to My Heart" and we are dancing in this chair. 

WISH Reception

29 April 2026: I continue to be so proud to be a member of WISH. Tonight's reception, where we heard updates from the four grant awardees, reaffirmed what a special group it is. Bring a bunch of women together in the name of high-impact philanthropy and you won't believe what you see. 

Time to write means it's time to write...

28 April 2026: This afternoon I've been working on a chapter about reflection, critical thinking, and metacognition for our custom ENGL 101/102 textbook. 

I started work on this months ago, collecting excerpts from student writing over the past two years, diving into the scholarship, and even sketching out an outline. 

I started drafting about three weeks ago. Wrote a heck of an opening paragraph. 

And then it just sat there because I just didn't have the time to do any more. This wasn't a task I could knock out in 30 minute bursts. And I had to devote those 30 minute bursts to other tasks.

Today, though, because I have the time and because those "other tasks" are mostly done, it's time to write and I am hacking away at it. 

It's going by quickly and I am delighted by that, though I know there are at least four more drafts between now and "done." But the grading is almost done--even all caught up for now, with the last batch coming in tomorrow--and I can do this. 

It helps that this is a subject near and dear to my heart--and one that matters for our program's goals and assessment. Wading through over 100 portfolios in January made me realize, "Hmmm, we need something about reflection in the book. Guess I have to write it..."

(And yes, this post is a bit of a break from writing that chapter and yes, it's also a bit of metacognitive writing about metacognitive writing...so I better stop before I get carried away. Back to work...) 

Granted...

27 April 2026: Got some news late today about a grant application that I was working on with my buddy, Hannah, in the weeks before and after my dad's death. 

Those were such strange, hard days. 

I hated doing that work at times, even as I was grateful for the distraction and that there was work to do. (In general, grant writing is just not a genre I love.) I remember logging onto a Zoom meeting less than 24 hours after he died. It never even crossed my mind not to. 

But you just keep going, you know? That's what I told myself. 

And as silly as it was, I thought, "This is what he would want. He would be proud."

Anyway, we got the money. It wasn't anywhere close to a sure thing. So...wow. 

I think he would be proud. I hope he is. 

A birthday and a retirement...

26 April 2026: A couple milestones today for folks who mean a lot to me: a dear friend's little boy turned one and a beloved colleague celebrated his retirement. 

Lots of Big Thoughts these days about time and transitions, most of them melancholy.

But it is lovely to think about how both occasions today, in my heart, are bathed in happiness and light. 

Fresh cut...

25 April 2026: Got my hair cut today and, as always, enjoyed talking with Isabelle, who's been my stylist for years now. When I mentioned that I had papers to grade, she said, "Oh, I remember you brought some with you last time!" I can't believe she mentioned that. A few minutes later, she said something about having a vivid imagination. "I do see papers," she added, "I see the people [who wrote them]. The work they put in, how worried they are..." 

I just think that's really neat. She's pretty cool.