Thursday, March 29, 2007

Ah ah ah oh oh oh oh, ee ee ee ee ee ee

I have a new office on the fourth floor of Loras Hall, right across the drive from the St. Paul Seminary. In fact, if it weren't for the seminary, I'd have a knockout view of the Mississippi River. Instead, I see the seminary chapel (which is nice enough) and clusters (flocks? bevies?) of men in cassocks on the sidewalk below.

I like the new office. It's bigger than my old one and faces west (which I like for the cool mornings and beautiful sunsets) and is off the beaten path of the rest of my department. But here's what they didn't tell me before I willingly exited the rest of my colleagues upstairs: the university voice faculty have offices right underneath my chair. Which means their students inflict their screechy scales, arias and the same five bars of a single showtune (something from "Oklahoma!" -- which is just the dorkiest musical ever written) over and over and over, for hours on end. I'm not a great fan of choral and classical vocal music. And bad sopranos sort of give me a headache. So I plug my headphones into my computer speaker and drown 'em out with Dylan or Joplin or talk radio.

OK, now I'm sounding like a crotchety old person. Never mind. Apologies to music lovers everywhere. I tried to like opera, but I got over it.

On the other hand, since the grandkids were born a few years ago I've been revisiting neat songs, books and poems for little ones. This is one of my favorites: "Little Potato," recorded by a group called Metamora. Listen here

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Nothin' wakes you up like a little vomiting

G'day, erpwretch. It's a lovely day on Preserve Path. Woke up this morning to little William, 2, puking up his breakfast. There's nothing like a little morning vomit to set the tone for the day. All day long, when you feel an odd twinge in the gut, you think: am I gonna get it too? Or, when you stand up too quickly and give yourself a quick case of the whirlies you wonder, am I gonna get it? I think I'd better go lie down for a bit ... .

Drinking from the antihypochondrial side, we have rain, blessed rain, today! It's a nice, slow, steady drip that'll make the flowers just jump out of the ground. We've had such a drought for the past several months that any humidity seems like a gift. I can finally stop itching now, if only I didn't feel so queasy.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Color me beige?

Well, here it is: My very own blog. If you read it, thanks. If you don't, thanks. But as long as I got the account, I figured I'd better write something here. And I'm a writer, you know? That's what we writers do.

What should I write about? Hmmm. I'm naturally opinionated, so that oughta be easy, but it's not. I need to care for your sensibilities and I just can't "spew." There's no grand event imminent, like the birth of a child or the advent of some new activity. There's just my, uh, life. Which is: 50-something, white, female, marriedforeverandever, suburban, well educated, professional, mother/grandmother, nonspectacular. That's "extreme" me!

I could tell you some deeply personal things, but quite frankly, I'm just not that interesting. I love to write and read poetry and drink good wine (even better simultaneously), hate to pose for pictures because I always blink when the shutter goes off, blush when I'm embarrassed and think I'm fat. I love my husband and have never had an affair. I love my children and have never beat them or intentionally made their lives a living hell. I'm about as bland as your Aunt Gert. Spiritual in a fallen-away Catholic genre. Liberal but not bleeding heart. Privileged but not spoiled. Champagne taste, beer budget. But I'm OK with that and unapologetic.

I've never really written like this about myself or my raison d'etre before. Have you?