The Solstice is the Reason for the Seasons

One does not really appreciate Winter Solstice until one lives in Iowa (or anywhere North of here.) Currently, the sun does not rise until after 7:00. Dusk lumbers in around 4:00. The only time I've seen the sun recently was this weekend, through a sheet of clouds. It looked like a mutant moon, more apocalyptic that comforting.

I find myself hibernating. This past weekend, I read an entire book. I may have put on some Winter fat. The scale says I haven't, I feel I have. Awaking in the morning in my warm bed inspires me to do nothing but sleep longer. Sometimes I pull the covers over my head and slip further into my bear cave. On occasion I let out a wince or a groan. I used to be a morning person.

Before I go to bed each night, I tell myself that I am going to get up and workout, swim or run. Come morning I wonder what kind of delusion I was under. Really.

So, when the globe passes that sweet sweet spot in orbit, and the days start to grow, I am given a renewed sense of optimism, and reminded of life's cycles. I am thankful. When the days seem to overflow with darkness, I know Light is on its way.

What I am reading

My mom asked what normal people read. Good question. I'm reading about abnormal things, of course. At the public library, I was in the poetry section, the 800's, looking for a poet someone had recommended to me. I turned around just to see what was in the vicinity and found the upper 700's--outdoor, action, adventure books. These titles are formulaic "preposition extreme books." Into the Wild and Into (preposition) Thin Air (extreme). The first, a story about a young man who gallivanted across the country before moving to Alaska to live off the land. His sense of adventure eventually proved fatal. The second, a story of another mournful trip of mountaineers who died on Mt. Everest.


Perusing that shelf, I found a story that has always intrigued me, Between (preposition) A Rock and a Hard Place (extreme.) You may recall the story of the avid outdoorsman who got his hand pinned under a boulder while hiking in Utah. After six days, he eventually amputated his arm with a pocket knife to save himself...a rock and a hard place indeed. Preposition extreme.

Normal

On our way to pick up my glasses which I accidentally left at the "company" holiday party, I stopped by the post office. I asked my friend from the department who was with me if she minded running my letter to the mailbox because it was more convenient for her to get out of the car than for me to get out. "Sure!" she replied, "This is exciting, this is what normal people do!" So true. This semester left me feeling anything but normal.

I smiled as she got out of the car and bounded toward the box.

Normal people...now that the semester is over, I can start feeling like a normal person again. To start, I went to the library to check out books to read FOR LEISURE! Can you believe it? Books to read for the fun of it, because this is what NORMAL PEOPLE do.

I went back to the office to show our department librarian and whomever else was around my books that I checked out FOR THE FUN OF IT! Memories of kindergarten show-and-tell came back to me as I told everyone about the purported plots of each story and passed around the books.

I came back home, lined the books up on my coffee table, and decided to take a picture of them for posterity. That is when my sister called. I told her about the books and how excited I was to read them and be a NORMAL PERSON who reads books for leisure and how I was about to take a picture of the books.

She was excited for me, but then pointed out that a normal person would probably not take pictures of the books. True, I thought. It might take time to adjust to normal.

Take Home

This is what a take home final in T and T looks like:







Here is the table at which I sit and shuffle papers around.

This is where I sit on the sofa to use my computer and pretend I can calculate something about beta binomial something somethings.

It is now 7:30 and I am ready for a nap.

good day

One takes many knocks in grad school. So when you have a day in which no knocks are received, it turns out to be a REALLY GOOD DAY! That was today. I presented my research poster at a state conference in Ames. It was so good to dress up (not that I'm a slob otherwise, but it has been awhile since I've worn anything that requires dry cleaning) and feel competent about my work. As expected, teachers, principals and district leaders were interested in my research and wanted to talk about writing instruction and student performance. The best part, was that I could speak the language of both assessment and learning. I could talk about assessment, the purpose, the process, the results, and, I could talk instruction, student characteristics, methods and strategies. One teacher described difficulties with one method of instruction, I was able to make other suggestions. I was back in my element and it was so good.

I've become so used to feeling like the student, and that I don't know anything. So when I have a day in which I get to have substantive converstations and interact with other professionals, I truly enjoy it...even if it is just for one day.

My favorite things

I don't know if I will stay in Iowa when I am done here. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. In Iowa's favor, I have a running list of "Things I Will Miss If I Leave Iowa."

Here are a few items from that list:
The Tuscan Tomato Soup from Bread Garden: One of my favorite simple meals to grab when I want something light and delicious.

The Bread Garden: Market, salad bar, wine, beer, coffee, desserts, outdoor seating when the weather is nice, naturally lit eating otherwise. All this conveniently located 5 minutes from my building.

Bacon Wrapped Dates at Devotay: Need I say more? A glass of red wine and some of these savory tapas are really worth a trip to Iowa City, friends.

The sight of the sunset striking the old capitol and the hillside of buildings late on a winter's afternoon.

Bald eagles that winter along the river.

The whistle at the power plant that sounds at 8,12,1 and 5. I LOVE this whistle and watching the steam billow out. I try to match my pitch to the whistle and then reach the higher note as the steam rises above the roof of the brick building along the river. I time my walk in the morning to the sound of it. If I am anywhere past the law building when the whistle sounds, I know I am ahead of time. It also marks the lunch hour and reminds me of the Flintstones when it sounds at 5. I imagine Fred hopping of the dinosaur and sliding down its tail as he celebrates the end of a work day. It seems like whistles are endemic only to more rural communities and I will seriously miss this whistle if I leave.