is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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If life is a bowl of cherries, why am I driving to Pittsfield?
If life is a bowl of cherries, why am I driving to Pittsfield?
My hair is getting very long, and I'm currently solving the problems it causes by using tiny little barrettes to keep some of the hair out of my face so that other parts of "the hair" can do what it wants. By tiny I mean these little ones on the left (photo actual size):
They are made for babies, but I'm all growed up.
Yesterday, as Paul and I sat at our respective computers, we all of a sudden heard a faint but frantic voice yelling �JILL!� Apparently Heidi had forgotten that there is a doorbell at the front door. It doesn�t ring directly in my apartment, but rather rings in the general area downstairs by the mailboxes. But it nonetheless does ring and I can hear it. Anyway, a yelling of �JILL� while circling the house on foot works, too.
So we let her in and right then Nasser appeared. All at once I realized that finally, my two worlds had overlapped. At least two denizens of the non-Amherst life-of-Jill now have had some visual evidence, beyond the occasional Polaroid, that Nasser Exists. Now we have to work on Tom.
Once Nasser said Hi, made some disparaging remarks about the need to drive everywhere in the Pioneer Valley, related that to Los Angeles, took some of my laundry quarters, and left, Paul and I looked at Heidi with expectant glances. She pretended alarm. Indeed she was all, �WHAT!?� Paul said, very calmly, and with the same force he mustered for declaring that giraffes are great, �How was the yarn store?�
Heidi said, �Great!� Paul and I were flummoxed, but only slightly, and so we were not ready to leave it at that. I said, �Did they have everything you wanted?� That led her into a dissertation on how a) knitters are dumpy and so b) they have dumpy thread colors. c) is there a causal connection there, and if so which way does it go? Along the way we learned that the selection of brown yarns left much to be desired.
That started to satisfy our predictions of what would happen when Heidi went yarn shopping. But we were not to be deterred from hearing it ALL. Paul ascertained that, yes, Heidi might just have to return to the yarn store to get something she had neglected to buy. And then I asked, �Do they do anything wrong at the yarn store?� To which Heidi responded, �OH MY GOD, YES!� And then Paul and I knew that this really was Heidi, and not some Heidi version of the Buffybot. Apparently knitters are snobby about crochet, do not keep the good crochet needles in stock, and also the warehouse has terrible fluorescent lighting that renders a person incapable of judging color and tone without taking the spools to the front of the store near the natural light. Etc.
Then we went to eat brunch at Lone Wolf. At one point during the eating, a student of mine walked by and said, �Hi Professor Stauffer!�, and Paul and Heidi thought that was HILARIOUS.
Heidi is very fond of my paint-by-number project. Paul was silent about it. But he is often silent, so it doesn�t necessarily mean anything.
I have a lot to do this weekend, and am having a hard time getting any of it done. Not only do I have a lot of different weirdly disruptive social things to do (about which I have no complaints, mind you), but also I just don�t feel like doing any of the work I have to do. Like I pretty much have the lecture for Monday written, and I should start working on Wednesday�s lecture, too, and maybe reread the portion of the book it�s on. But in the meantime I have a paper I have to write for a conference presentation. I have to write the paper very soon. There is already an �abstract� of the paper in existence, in a program for the conference. (Yes, it�s funny that once could abstract from a paper that doesn�t even exist, but this, along with the famous �long short� list, is just the tip of the iceberg of academic strangenesses.) But currently I am feeling an intense loathing for the idea of writing this paper. I would much rather write a different paper. So part of me wants to figure out how I can write the preferred paper and pass it off as the loathed paper. And all that figuring takes up a lot of time, none of which is spent in writing either of the papers.
Last night I went to see Jimmy�s Amherst team kick the doohickey out of some eleven-year-old Chicopee basketball butt. (Chicopee is the name of another local town.) That was fun. Then Tom, Jimmy and I watched Ray. Not such a great movie, but Jamie Foxx does a terrific job. Plus there was the popcorn, and the fluffy couch, and the company. Tonight I have to drive to Pittsfield, Mass, to see Dave Eggers give a reading and then hang out a bit. I am looking forward to seeing Dave. But Pittsfield is about 1.5 hours away, I hear. In addition, Tom tells me that its name is fairly self-descriptive. Also, today Heidi appears to be driving back here from Amenia after having driven Paul back there to get the train from Wassaic. And Chris also asked me to do some hanging out in Northampton. Then Tom called and asked me to eat dinner and play cards with him and Nasser and Jimmy this evening. I am, like, totally popular today. But I must work and then drive to Pittsfield.
2:41 p.m. - February 19, 2005
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