Insert Cuteness Squeal of Death

So it seems like everyone these days is having babies. Well. Not everyone. But a lot of people. Aaaaand they're having adorable little monsters. Not your garden variety kid. And if not everyone is having kids, it seems that everywhere I look I see cute kids, boy and girl, that get my mommy emotions going. The other day I saw the most ADORABLE little boy. He was about 2, and he was already flirting with the girls. It was way cute. A few days later, Mark saw a little blonde girl that made him think seriously about wanting a girl (which, if you don't know Mark, is amazing in its own right. He'd rather not have kids period, but he's dead set on having a boy if we do walk that path.) So, all that to say, I WANT A KID! Well. Not now. Not soon. But someday. When all of this graduate bullshit is behind me and I have entered into my chosen career. At this point I'm resigned to accept my likely fate as a mother of boys, because Mark's family is dominated by males. His father had eight brothers and no sisters, and all have had at least one boy, if not more. But if God would smile on me and grant me a green-eyed, black-haired little princess, I think I would be the happiest person on the planet. Well, I suppose that concern is years away at this point. We'll see.

Home

A few weeks ago at the ETHA meeting, the president of the association gave a speech in which she talked about "home" and what it was to her. She asked us all to think about what home is to us, and if we wanted, to share it with her via email. I don't know if I'm going to do that, but I figured I would at least clue you guys in on what went through my mind.

As most of you know, I just bought a new house. So the question of where "home" is has been fresh on my mind for a while. Moving is always difficult, because it takes a while to get adjusted to a new place. But it's also doubly weird for me being a first-time homeowner. Sometimes I feel as if the real owners are going to come home and tell us that it's time to go home. But when I closed my eyes and envisioned what I call home, I instinctively saw my house. But what I saw was not the front porch, where I spend most of my time, or the living room with our furniture. It was instead the dining room. Why the dining room? That's a good question. But you see, I recently got my grandmother's dining room furniture and put it in the room. We have her table and chairs and an antique china cabinet, complete with her china. We also have a painting she received upon her retirement from Bealls. So when I thought of home, I saw, more than the room itself, her furniture, and me and my family sitting around her table laughing and talking as we have done so many times at her house. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about my loving grandmother Elizabeth. But that is home. That is where I will always feel the most comfortable. It reminds me of all the good times we had. It is also a testament to the good times we will continue to have.

Backside of a bullet (You're gone)

Dedicated to Richard Andrew Church and Elizabeth Anne Rudd Church

Staring into my glass I see
not my reflection but
you. Your eyes staring
back at me, your hair
like blond waterfalls.
You were so beautiful.
And he took you away.

I was not even a day old
My mother, your sister,
She nearly died.
Lying in your grandmother's arms
He took you away from me.

In your mother's arms
now, she who never knew
you. Beautiful child of strife,
you left us on the backside
of a drunken bullet.

You're gone.

I don't hate God Mikefrey

So I was sitting at the bar last night, as I have done pretty much every day since, oh Thursday, and in between variants of vodka drinks, I pounded my open hand down on the small, round table and declared with determined force that I was going to write a blog entry entitled "I don't hate God Mikefrey." So for all of those in on the joke, here it is. I think that's all of 2 people. Maybe 3. But in any case.

A few housekeeping issues: Vietnam Movie Night. Saturday. Come. I'm renting Platoon, Full Metal Jacket, Apocalypse Now, and Good Morning Vietnam and we'll be hosting a movie marathon at the old homestead of Mark and Angela. Well, the new homestead. You get it. It's BYOB. Come out and have fun.

Now that that's out of the way I shall begin to expound on the last few weeks I've missed. It's mostly all the same, except that last weekend I was forced by the powers that be to work at the ETHA meeting. I spent three days working from about 8 in the morning until. I think I got done about 9:30 both nights. There was drama, stress, heels and pain, some flirting, and lots of coffee and alcohol. I got to bartend for the first time on the same day I delivered my first conference paper. I also witnessed an engagement. That's right folks. An engagement. My friend Melanie is now engaged to the wonderful (if not slightly nerdy) Joseph Pellerin. She said yes before he could even get the question out. I approve, and am very happy for the two of them.

So there's a brief account of the rather detailed experience of the ETHA fall meeting. If you've never been, you should consider coming at least once. I promise there will never be anything quite like it. The important thing about the meeting is that it gave me a chance to reevaluate my life. I finally feel like I have found where I fit in. I felt like at the meeting that this was something that I needed to be a more permanent part of, and I intend to come to the meetings from now on. I hope to be more involved in it. It also gave me a wake up call that I've been really just coasting through and I really need to get my butt in gear. So starting this week I'm going to do that. I'm going to get caught up and try to push myself to get my stuff done. I have several projects that have been on the back burner that need to be on the cooling rack, finished cooking and ready to present. So, my epiphany for the semester happened early. Here goes nothing.