House Hunting

I have always loved looking for a new place to live.  When you grow up in the City of Pizza and Bagels moving is what you do.  There is always a bigger space in a better neighborhood to be found.  Somewhere out there is that amazing deal.

I am more than happy to go house (or apartment) hunting with a friend.  I love to see the insides of empty homes.  I love to imagine what it would be like to live there and can often come up with an entire alternate life after just stepping through the door.

I have a sister who shares this passion with me.  When Angel was little and I could no longer take living in a one-bedroom with him and my ex, my sister took me apartment hunting in her neighborhood. We were very excited at the thought of living near each other, especially since we both had boys a year apart.  While it was stressful, we had a blast looking at all the possibilities.  And then one day I walked through a doorway and knew that I found it.  My dream apartment and it was within my price range.

I lost the apartment in the divorce and miss it to this day.

My sister continues to live in that neighborhood and has taken her love of empty apartments a step further.  She now helps other people find their dream home and she blogs about it at Uptown Girl.  I love having another family member in the blogosphere and I get to read about my old neighborhood.

Childbirth Education

We are discussing birth this week in my undergraduate class.  I show movies every once in a while to introduce a topic and today we watched The Business of Being Born.  I've shown this movie in several classes over the years, and although I can get bored with certain parts, watching the births never gets old.

My favorite part is listening to my class when the first birth occurs.  If you haven't seen the movie, it is a beautiful birth.  A woman is in a birthing pool in her living room.  Her midwife is by her side and her toddler is roaming around the room.  She is having an intense contraction but she is calm.  The room is quiet except for her slight moan and the voice of her son.  Then a baby appears.  It is so gentle and contrary to every image we have of birth that it takes you completely by surprise.

Every time I show this, the entire class let's out an "ohhh" of delight.

I have my students write down questions or topics they want to discuss from the movie for the next class.  As I was reviewing them this evening, I was struck by how many talked about the need for childbirth education. They wanted to know when and how women can learn about their options. The sad news is that most women learn childbirth when they are all ready well into their pregnancy and have already made some critical decisions (such as the doctor/midwife/practice).  I also feel, having sat through several childbirth classes for my doula training, that the options are not well presented in most cases.

While not everyone will give birth (or be with a partner giving birth) it still seems worthwhile to teach it to the masses. Why is it considered something you would only be interested in if you're pregnant? And who thinks pregnancy is the best time to learn about what your body can do?

Red Doors (Textured)

 kk phoebe (color burn 70%) & kk crackerjack (multiply 39%)

 kk phoebe (darken 71%)

 kk phoebe (color burn 80%) & kk inspired magic (soft light 39%)

 Instagram & kk phoebe (overlay 71%)

kk phoebe (soft light 59%) 

 kk phoebe (soft light 63%) & kk if only (multiply 50%)

RBOC: Wild and Wooly Weekend Edition

• Zippy lives!  b came home and said she just needed some fluid.  There's an ongoing condition that requires we keep her well hydrated.  I have not been doing this.
• Cars are still a foreign land to me.
• Pupzilla continues to do well on her arthritis medication.  We went on a walk and she refused to turn back.  I eventually had to trick her back home by making a big circle.
• In the past two weeks I've thought both my dog and my car were goners and now they both have a new lease on life.
• This morning I mapped out a bike route to get to my yoga class.  The bad news is I took a few wrong turns and ended up missing the class.  The good news is that I had a great bike ride and now feel more confident that I can bike in this neighborhood.
• I only have one paper left that needs feedback!
• b came home and made ribs.  We have a double stove and recently found out the bottom one works better than the top.  The ribs came out better than ever.
• For the first time ever we have decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving.  We still don't have a tree but b hung lights outside today.
• I purged my closet of clothes this afternoon.  I found clothes in there that are three sizes too small.  Yes I've been holding onto a lot of clothes with the idea that one day I'll fit them again.  It was sad to part with some of them but it was also very freeing.  I no longer have to sort through reminders of my former self just to find something to wear.
• I celebrated my new self by ordering some clothes online.  
• Have made serious progress with my blog revamping project.  It is still too soon to unveil but I'm feeling very positive about it. 

Driving Zippy

Growing up in the City of Pizza and Bagels means growing up in a car-less life.  No one in my immediate family owned a car or knew how to drive.  Not many of my friends had cars and none of us learned to drive in high school.  In my late twenties I started to travel for business and not knowing how to drive was a huge inconvenience.  Outside of the city, not knowing how to drive made me feel like a child.

I started taking lessons when I was 29.  The City of Pizza and Bagels is not a fun place to learn how to drive.  I was terrified every time I had a lesson.  One of my sisters started taking lessons at around the same time.  When it was time to take our road tests, she passed and I failed.  I took some more lessons and waited a while for my next test and then I failed again.  After that I pretty much gave up.

Then I started dating b and cars came into my life.  Well one car did: his small Isuzu truck.  We used it to get out of the city to paddle and hike.  We eventually used it to find a small house about an hour north of the city.  We packed up our belongings, Angel, the cats and Pupzilla and moved someplace where the nearest store was 15 miles away.  Not driving was not really an option.  b taught me to drive in that little Isuzu truck and I used it to pass my third road test.

When b got a bigger truck, I got the little Isuzu.  I loved driving that truck but it was old and one day she broke down on the side of the road.  The cost to fix her far exceeded her worth.  We went shopping for a car and b found Zippy.  She was 10 years old but had a lot of get-up-and-go.  The only catch was her manual transmission.  b loved driving stick but I had never done it and she was to be my car.  Keep in mind I was still a new and very nervous driver.  We bought her anyway and somehow b managed to teach me to drive stick in a nearby parking lot.

That was almost seven years ago.  Eventually we moved down to SouthLite and b's truck died shortly after we got here.  I had to share Zippy as she became the family car.  Last year when b finally got a new car, Zippy reverted to me.  I love driving that car.  She's old, she's banged up (I managed to back her directly into b's truck twice shortly after we got her), and she is far from attractive but I love her.  We have replaced many of her parts over the years and I know we are reaching the point where it doesn't make sense to keep her going.

Today the clutch didn't want to engage, repeatedly.  With a little patience and a lot of dogged determination, I got her to and from the gym.  Once I made it home I didn't want to risk another trip out.  Her mechanic is closed for the weekend and b is away so I have no one to give me a real diagnosis but I am not hopeful.  A new clutch in a 17 year old car is probably not a wise decision to make and I'm worried that may be what I'm facing. 

RBOC: Marathon Work Weekend Edition

• It is 8:30pm on a Friday night and, after leaving my office at 5pm, I just finished 3 hours of work on an administrative task.  (I also finished 2 glasses of red wine--a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do).  I am about to embark on some editing of a paper I'm writing with students.
• There is a Grey's Anatomy and Homicide somewhere in my future this weekend.
• b is away on a kayak camping trip, leaving me and Pupzilla to fend for ourselves.
• The weather has changed and my wardrobe has not.  I MUST organize my clothes so I have something to wear.  I also need to do a good purge and was thinking this was the weekend for such a task.  I fear when the purge is done I will realize I still have nothing to wear.
• I have 7 draft proposals from my doctoral students to provide feedback on this weekend.
• I was hoping to actually write the revision of the paper that never ends this weekend.
• I have 3 yoga classes I'd like to take (1 on Sat and 2 on Sun).
• I have BIG changes planned for this little blog and was hoping to implement some of them this weekend.
• b took my camera with him and left me his point and shoot.  Since Pupzilla has made a remarkable recovery with her arthritis meds, I was hoping to take her and the camera for a walk.
• The house is a mess.  With the holidays coming (and we'll actually have company this Thanksgiving, yay!), I really should start cleaning it. 

On Teaching Doctoral Students

Sometimes I really love teaching doctoral students.  Well most of the time I really love teaching doctoral students.  This semester my doctoral class is going particularly well and it is a very welcome relief because the undergraduate class is not thrilling me.  (I normally love teaching undergraduates but this is seriously altered when my class size is 40+.)

Of course part of the love comes from having students that are really engaged in the subject; students who want to learn and are at a point in their lives when they can devote most of their time to learning.  I consider this an extreme luxury in the world of teaching.  The flip side is that when a doctoral student is not particularly engaged it sucks far worse than a disengaged undergraduate or masters' student.  Perhaps it is the expectation but I suspect it is because the stakes are so much higher.

But what is really nice about teaching doctoral students is the benefit of having them around for several years.  I only teach one undergraduate course, so I don't get repeat undergrad students. I've had a few who have worked on my research and had the opportunity to watch them develop over the span of a year or two, but these students are few and far between.  When I was teaching in the masters' program I had more interactions with those students.  I would get to know the entire cohort and even if I didn't teach them again, they were generally around and involved in the department in a way that I could watch their progress.  But our masters' program is only two years long and in the last semester most of them are away doing an internship.

In the doctoral program I have time to really get to know all of the students.  I am the doctoral coordinator so I get to meet most of them as they are applying.  I run their orientation and help them get on their feet during their first semester.  I teach a core methodology course they all have to take in their first or second year and many attend my writing group.  For some I'll serve on their dissertation committee.  Our doctoral students hang around for 3-5 years, with most of them on the 5-year plan.  This is enough time to see them really come into their own; to develop their skills; to find their voice; to become colleagues instead of students.  It is a beautiful thing to watch.

I have one student who is getting ready to graduate this spring.  She was my graduate assistant for her first two years.  She's been a student in three of my classes.  I was the chair of her program committee and am serving on her dissertation committee.  We've published together and have plans to continue some collaborations once she graduates.  I've been advising her as she has started searching for full-time employment.  I've seen her through some tough personal crisises.  I can't quite believe she is the same young woman who first showed up on my doorstep full of unrealistic dreams and expectations.

I can't quite believe she'll be gone next year.