Earl's just waving hello...

A quick Earl joke: A friend, who lives in Atlanta, texted me to tell me she’s coming to town this weekend for a visit. I told her I was excited and expressed my hope that Earl would not be visiting us at the same time. A few minutes went by, and then she replied, “Who’s Earl?” (This was before the news and Facebook became nothing but Earl-Earl-Earl-Earl.) When I reminded her of the storm, she laughed and said Earl sounded “more like that disagreeable cousin every family has and doesn’t like to invite over.” And I thought, yeah, that’s about right.

This morning started gray. A perfect sleeping-in morning, except we didn’t sleep in. After a morning of watching A. (playing with now-ironic green BP trucks and reading books about construction sites), I had my annual physical check-up (“Well, you’re healthy,” was the official result).

Then I ran errands and came home to pick up everything that could potentially be blown around our yard and put it in the garage. Our back patio (i.e. concrete slab) is nice and clear of patio furniture and various garden-related things that had been abandoned there since the garden had started its decline.

The afternoon has become increasingly windy, and while I moved chairs off our patio the gate in our fence kept slamming shut. Now the sky is the color of steel and the bending trees are indication of what’s just off our shores.

In all likelihood, we’ll sleep through any drama that comes our way. Classes for tomorrow have not been cancelled (my students have their first exam, so apparently they don’t pray hard enough). But, we’ve still got the three-day weekend to look forward to. And hopefully we won’t have too much to rake up during said weekend.

Hello, Earl. Be kind.

That night, I dreamed that Jesse and I were students again, first years (but married), and we had a great dorm room in a really fancy dorm on a really fancy campus (hey, it was a dream), and after we unpacked our things we left the room and met up with some friends and had no plans other than exploring campus.

Three of my nieces are starting college for the first time this year. On Facebook, they post pictures of their dorm rooms, and their status updates are all about early morning classes and meeting new friends and going home for the weekend.

Sometimes I ache for that. And I’ve been wondering, why?

The question has been bouncing around my brain for a week or so, and I think I’ve stumbled upon an answer. It goes something like this: The day I moved out of my parents’ house and into my first apartment, a wave of homesickness I wasn’t prepared for hit me as I sat alone in my new room. And then Scott and Jesse and I went out to dinner at some Tex-Mex place, and I felt better, was reminded of the excitement, was reminded I wasn’t alone. In the weeks afterward we’d meet up for lunch on campus or we’d go to Taco Bell at 2:00 in the morning, just because we could.

For the last two years of school, Jesse and I lived in apartments across the street from one another. After class, I’d grab a book and head over to their place and just hang out. Maybe the boys would play a video game, or maybe we’d talk about politics or philosophy or homework, or maybe we’d all just sit and study together. My roommate Marianne and I would sit in our living room and study for finals together. And even though we didn’t study the same thing, it was enough to be in the same room, eating bowls of cherries. And when it wasn’t finals week, we’d cook dinner together, we’d look at recipes, we’d watch Food Network back when Rachael Ray still just had one show, and we’d work puzzles with Samie, and we’d carve pumpkins and make gingerbread houses.

Our lives were lived in concert, and we had a rhythm, the semester-long ups and downs, the midterms and finals. We shared a campus; we went to the same movies, the same football games, the same restaurants.

Even though I think the community we have now is considerably closer than many others get to enjoy once past the college experience, it’s still a post-grad community of married people who own their own houses. We don’t hang out anymore. Getting together with friends involves cooking dinner or going out to dinner, going to a movie (a half-hour drive away), going to the beach, etc. It’s a production. It’s scheduled, often a week or more in advance. Outside of small group, we rarely see the same people on even a weekly basis, and some of our friends we might see once a month.

I never needed an invitation to Jesse and Scott’s apartment. I just needed to know if they were back from class yet or not. And vice versa. It was expected, it was natural.

So, while I very much enjoy being back on a college campus—the impromptu music and the library and all the opportunities that come along with academia—I do still miss being an undergrad, miss the evenings when Jesse, Scott, and I sat around trying to figure out what to eat and decided to walk to Big Daddy’s for pizza, feeling like the world was ours, knowing that it was.

The herbs are still puttering along, but everything else has become bug food. We are feeding bugs. We’re very generous like that. And I think our gardening days are going on a leave of absence, duration unknown. Farmers market, here I come…

I was good. I was in bed by 10:00, alarm set for 6:00. I was finally going to walk with Sharon at 6:30 this morning, had texted her to confirm, even though I’d been a delinquent and had begged off for at least a week or two. This was the morning I would finally exercise. After that, I had a long day of teaching ahead of me, but I was all prepped for that and ready to go.

At 9:00, I was exhausted and ready for bed. But we were still at small group, and people were parked behind us. But by 10:00, my contacts were out, my face washed, my teeth brushed, and I was nice and comfy, snuggled in bed, ready for my eight hours of blissful sleep.

Well. First, I was too cold. I got another blanket. Then I was too hot. Like, feverish hot. I kicked off the other blanket, then the regular blanket, then the sheet. I cooled down and eventually returned the sheet and regular blanket to their normal places. And then I turned over. And then I turned over again. I thought about happy things. I thought about nothing. I counted and counted and counted and counted. I got up to use the bathroom. I got a glass of milk. I chomped down a TUMS. And still could not fall asleep.

I came close, several times. Eventually, I’m pretty sure my despair over not being asleep is what kept me up.

Finally, sometime after midnight I think, I fell asleep. Then woke up before my 6:00 alarm went off. Once it finally rang, I texted Sharon to bow out of walking—again. And Jesse re-set it for 7:00 so I could squeeze in a bit more sleep.

Which, of course, didn’t happen.

I counted to somewhere in the 400s before the alarm rang again, at which I gave up and got out of bed, grumpy and feeling kind of sick.

Not cool, last night, not cool.

Love,
Erin

Though I am recovering from the cold, yesterday I had an eye disaster. Dis-as-ter. I left the house with my left eye kind of irritated. I’d thrown away my old pair of contacts and had a fresh pair in. As I locked the door, I thought, maybe I should grab some eye drops just in case, but then I decided against it because the clock it was a-ticking and the contacts were new, so I was sure they’d settle down.

Ha. Well, the first class went fabulous, and then I ate lunch in my office (turkey sandwich—a departure from the typical peanut butter and honey, woohoo), and then I went to my second class, and by the end of that class my eye was trying to claw its way out of my skull. I had ten minutes before my last class, and I spent them in my office, trying to get my eye to stop this nonsense. Didn’t work. I showed up to my last class looking like I’d been crying, and I apologized for the appearance, made some joke about contacts, and then spent the next hour and fifteen minutes alternately weeping and itching. Oh, torture.

After class, I went home (with a quick stop on the way to surprise Jesse at work!) and took out my contacts immediately. Relief, I was sure, was on its way.

Not so! I had already given myself the rest of the evening “off” because I’d gotten so much work done in the wee hours of the morning. And how did I spend the time? Pouring about a half bottle of Visine in my left eye, rinsing it, putting a cold wet washrag on it, ordering it to Stop This Right Now, and generally sitting on the couch looking and feeling miserable.

Nice. Well, the eye seems to be better today, thank goodness. Now, I’m going to input all the quiz grades so far into the handy-dandy Excel file Jesse made me that does all the math for me. Brilliant!

Ta-ta!

Took lots of cold medicine.

Taught two classes (which were populated by surprisingly brilliant people who blew me away).

Watched A. and M. on campus while their parents attended a faculty meeting (A. loves clocks and loves pointing them out. The problem is, he can’t really do consonant blends yet, so the “l” sound gets dropped. So, you can imagine my mild horror as we walked to the bookstore and then the library, past the giant clock tower twice, while A. pointed and hollered his version of “Clock! Clock! Big clock!” Oh, my.)

Dropped Gracie off at the vet this morning and picked her up this afternoon. She’s got a bladder stone. Yay.

Fought ridiculous traffic, which had resulted from a major wreck and an “All traffic must exit” sign that had been mistakenly left out.

Got home, realized my plans to attend the department welcome back party were foiled (there was absolutely no way I’d make it there on time with the traffic the way it was—and I couldn’t have stayed in town to wait it out because I had Gracie with me). Was bummed. (This was my night to make a smashing impression!)

Gave Gracie a bath because she had peed at the vet’s office and then sat in it. (Ugh.)

Hello, Friday. Thank Heavens it’s the weekend…

1. Chopped off all my hair. Well, ten inches of it. It’s now about chin length and dries remarkably fast.
2. Made very yummy peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.
3. Not cleaned the house.
4. Started classes at UNCW. The first day, I was sitting in my windowless office, which is down a windowless corridor, when the power went off. My cell phone is super dim (energy efficient, or something like that), so I groped around the room, trying to get my class list and stacks of syllabi, trying to see well enough to lock the door behind me and make my way out to a place that had a window. Adventure!
5. Gotten a summer cold. (Nice timing.) Stuffy nose and sneezing, oh the fun I’m having, aren’t you jealous?

Check out the view from the elevators (right). Faux-exterior front against some of the room windows. Also, there were "soundscapes" playing in the elevators. Going up, it might be a babbling brook. Going down, a horse running. Next time, a heartbeat? Jesse thought it weird, but I liked it.

We could have spent the whole time in the hotel relaxing but decided we needed to see a bit more of Philadelphia, so we ventured out, umbrella in hand.

We wandered through the Reading Terminal Market, where you can get everything from flowers to coffee to tea to honey to books to Pakistani food (why not?). Fresh meats, seafood, local produce. Lovely!

I'm pretty sure this place was designed with me in mind.

Next stop, more history! We saw the Liberty Bell and toured Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were written. I didn’t expect to be so awed, but I was. It’s a little overwhelming to see in person the place where your country was born.

Outside the Liberty Bell center, a woman was passing out free Cherry Dr. Peppers, so we snagged a couple, but then had to chug them because we couldn’t take them inside. That wasn’t the best idea.

Next on our Philadelphia Must-Do List: Cheesesteaks.

We walked to South Street, and if it hadn’t been raining and if it hadn’t been Sunday evening (a lot of shops were closed), we would have explored a bit more. It seemed like a fun area. We’ll put that top of the list for next time. We ate at Jim’s Steaks. Eating at Jim’s involves standing outside in a very long line, which wrapped around the corner of the building, and then getting inside so you can stand in another very long line, which twisted around the tiny downstairs interior.

Loooong line!

After finally ordering our sandwiches (with cheese, Provolone for me and American for Jesse, and with onions), we took them upstairs and relished being off our feet and finally getting some food in our hungry tummies.

I sure did eat a lot on this trip...but I also walked a lot too!

And then, though there was more to see, we decided to enjoy the calm of our hotel room, enjoy being off our feet, taking showers, watching cable (which we don’t have at home). The next day would be spent in the car, hours and hours of I-95, and there would be the oppressive Southern humidity to come home to, there would be traffic and heat and rushing. So that night, then, our last vacation night, we opted for an evening in, a big soft bed with fluffy pillows and a down comforter, the AC turned down way lower than we keep it at home, a TV much nicer than the one we have at home, snuggled up and comfy, just happy to be together.

We set off early for Boston, the first of two stops we’d make on our way home. After checking into our hotel, the Westin across from the Boston Public Library (Hotwire.com! I’m telling you!), we took off walking, stopping into an Irish pub for lunch. We split an order of Fish and Chips and a big steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese with Tasso ham. The macaroni was delightful, creamy and really quite sophisticated for being macaroni and cheese, and the fish and chips were perfectly crispy and mild.

Fueled up and ready to go, we hit the streets and headed for the Freedom Trail, a self-guided walking tour to a bundle of historic monuments and sights like:

The Granary Burial Ground, where Paul Revere’s remains reside:

Some of the oldest gravesites I've seen. Graves from the 1600s, 1700s, and I can't even think that far back. I kind of love the decorations.

The Old North Church, of one-if-by-land fame:

And a bunch of other places. In between historic sites, we ducked into Italian groceries to peer at homemade pasta and dozens of cheeses. We stopped at a huge Border’s just for the heck of it and passed a large outdoor market.

A giant macaroni noodle. Why not?

By evening, I was beat. All the walking plus a fitful sleep the night before and driving through Queens had me pretty pooped. We wandered around Back Bay and then decided to call it a day and head back to the hotel.

On the way back, though, we saw a girl with curly hair listening to an iPod, and I took off my sunglasses and turned to Jesse and said, “That is not Dana Sigmund.” And he said, “Oh yes it is.” I couldn’t believe it! Dana and I knew each other in college. She was in Sigma Tau and was VP the year I was president. She took over the club after I graduated. She’s remarkably similar to Miriam—she’s ridiculously cute and friendly and intelligent, and she’s got this fabulous curly hair that never, never looks bad.

After chatting for a few minutes in absolute shock, and in my shock completely forgetting to get a picture (Erin! For crying out loud! Get a picture!), we parted ways, Dana off to grocery shop, and Jesse and I off to find something cheap to eat (we were feeling the expenses of the trip, psychologically, though we were prepared financially for the cost).

In the end, we were completely lame and got fast food. I know. It wasn’t even good fast food. Burger King for him and Wendy’s for me (they were next to one another). We got it to go and walked our bags of fast food back to our fancy hotel, because apparently that’s how we roll, and then we ate at the desk in our room and then watched a movie we’d already seen and then went to bed. Goodnight, Boston.