tiderpricks and lettle mirthquakes

Music: The Cure: Entreat (1989)

I am enjoying a Pedron anniversary series robusto, which a new acquaintance gave me as a surprise gift at another friend's birthday party last Friday night. It is mild, slightly peppery, and smokes cool.

I was going to write a blog post this weekend detailing my issues with Obama's eulogy from last week. My friend Christopher made some compelling points in favor of the speech yesterday at brunch. He said the genius of the speech was Obama's removal of the nation state as the foundation of his emotional appeal. That hadn't occurred to me, since one assumes (always already) the head of the country evokes the nation-state. I'll have to rethink my thoughts and feelings about the speech, now, but I still say the ending was kitsch (and for me, that is the grossest form of nationalism; cf. The Unbearable Lightness of Being). If anyone can talk "sense into me," it's my friend Christopher, whom I adore.

This morning I attended the first church service on a Sunday in over twenty years. Sitting in the pew I was overcome by memories from my youth, the type of ambivalent overcoming that puts a lump in one's throat. The only things I know about Universal Unitarians is this: (a) they read all sacred texts as metaphor and allegory, and are against literalist interpretations (e.g., fundamentalism); (b) they are "all denomination," welcoming even Atheists; and (c) all the stuff I read in a five page pamphlet given to "visitors." The latter included a lot elaboration about (a) and (b). I enjoyed the service, I enjoyed getting out, meeting new people and shaking a few new hands. Folks were friendly. Apparently the church I attended is overcoming a "crisis" of some kind and in search of a new minister. The sermon was about "letting go"---letting go of whatever it was this church recently endured. I gathered it was some sort of contentious church politics. And, not the best sermon for a visitor to attend. I was lost for most of it. I stayed after the service and tried to meet people, but congregants were so busy mingling with people they already knew I couldn't catch anyone's gaze. So I left. I may go back. I may not. But I am curious to know what happened to the church to inspire such a sermon.

I am surprised at how well behaved my dog is on road trips. At home Jesús can be such a terror, but in the car and in stranger's homes he's rather polite. During the car drive to Bryan and back, Jesús napped quietly in my lap, and didn't even stir during clutching and gear changes. Good dog.

Last night, at a wine party, I was amused by how amused 20-somethings got cutting off the tops of champagne bottles with a sharp knife. They were positively giddy by the rite. I doubt all the champagne was even drunk (though I'm sure there were many, er, drunks).

After church I went to get groceries. So did, apparently, everyone else that goes to church in north Aus-Vegas. On my iPhone I searched for a suitable recipe (I settled on Chicken Marsalla). They didn't have any pancetta, so I bought the most fatty looking prosciutto I could find (in the end, it worked just as well). As I was returning to my car, a tall-ish man with long, black curly hair approached me. He was walking toward the store, but he caught my eye. Just as we were passing, he lifted his right hand to reveal it was wearing a puppet head. I think it was a monkey. He said to me with his puppet, "Bonjour!" in a happy, cheerful tone, and then the man smiled really big. I laughed aloud at the sudden surprise in the Central Market parking lot. It was raining.

I kinda wish I knew him. I bet he drives an art-car, or one of those funky, hipster bicycles. He's keepin' Austin weird---and randomly cheerful.

I talked to my mother this afternoon, as I usually do on Sundays. My peeps are just emerging from a major snow/ice storm in Georgia. My mother said she went to the grocery store today, as it was the first time they could get out of the driveway in a few days. She said the cat and dog food aisles were bare, and that she had to feed her kitties "crap." I didn't inquire further, because I realized I forgot to buy cat food myself today. Whoops.

I asked after cat food from my neighbor, who was peeling potatoes. Her four-year-old daughter was running around the house in her underwear, until a Tom and Jerry cartoon caught her attention. My neighbor and her husband own a cabin in St. Thomas, where they have just returned after a two-week holiday. She was tan. She gifted me two cans of cat food and a bottle of Ponche Kuba, the latter for taking care of her cat during her travels. Ponche Kuba tastes like egg nogg, but without the nutmeg. It is an after dinner drink one can only get in the Caribbean.

Ponche Kuba reminds me of Billy Ocean. Well, not really, but typing the word "Caribbean" does. So, I think a video is appropriate. Here it is. Sony music has requested that I not embed the video. Sorry.

I had a phone conversation with a mentor and friend whom I mistakenly thought was angry with me for something I wrote. It turns out she was teasing me on Facebook, but that she did want to talk about scholarship. We talked about Lacan and poststructualism. Not deeply, because both of us are wearing our Sunday brains. But enough to clarify a misunderstanding and reassure each of our intellectual bonds. I felt a lot better after that conversation.

I drafted two letters of nomination. The letters still need work and polishing, but they'll be good to go by Tuesday.

I'm looking forward to traveling to New Orleans at the end of this week to celebrate a dear friend's monumental birthday.

I'm also looking forward to getting back into the classroom. Last year I realized I truly loved teaching, and for the most part, this realization is age-related. It's not that I didn't love teaching before, it's simply that I was ambivalent about it because of the problems that come with walking into a classroom saddled with my personality. As I've gotten older, students see me less as a "buddy" and more as a parental figure, which has made teaching so much easier for me. Every succeeding year it seems I have less personality conflicts, although the entitlement issues and petulant demands persist.

This morning's political shows, as well as 60 Minutes, were dedicated to discussing the Arizona shootings. Much attention was on the psyche of the shooter, and whether there were "warning" signs. There were "warning signs" aplenty. But nothing could be done about them, because the shooter never made a physical threat. This reminded me of my own experiences with students with obvious mental instabilities (all male, all with issues similar to the Arizona kid). In addition to myself, I know a number of teachers who have had to deal with "unstable" students and, in each case, the police could do nothing because there were no statements of physical threat. I do think we need to have laws in place that better enable law enforcement to do preemptive things with students that are unstable and create an uncomfortable environment. I don't know how to go about this without trampling on basic civil liberties.

I took my time making the Chicken Marsala for dinner tonight. It turned out delicious. I can also get three meals out of it. This will come in handy for the remainder of the week. This time I used white meat (dark meat, it turns out, is actually both more flavorful and more healthy), because the market had no boneless dark meat. I pounded the crap out the breasts with a meat hammer until they were about a half-inch think. This turned out to be an excellent decision.

I think the guy with the puppet in the parking lot made my day. I think I'll buy me a hand puppet too, and do the same thing randomly for someone in a parking lot this week.