Does anyone even remember part 1? I do, of course, because it was my head in the vise. Another busy semester has ended, and after cramming in more work than I really thought was humanly possible into the last week and a half, I'm theoretically poised to spend a little quality time fucking off...to full effect, as Snoop says (the latter is a reference to the fourth season of the Wire, doubtless not lost on BEM and others). Something about the taste of leisure, though, feels more like alienation, or something. I'm having a hard time believing that I really don't need to be poking at my latest chapter or something. Of course, that will happen, but it needs to be not the ONLY thing I'm doing. On the agenda for the remaining days before I ship off to do my time in MT are things like Christmas shopping for the small selection of relatives I actually buy for--ah, the pleasures of having large, disconnected families--swapping library materials (the only time I hope to be driving to UB for the duration of the break), making these pumpkins cinnamon rolls that have been giving me wet dreams ever since I saw them on Isa's blog, and indulging in some kind of birthday festivities with my beloved Q. You only turn 32 once! Also in there are some tentative plans, like watching the most recent Pirates of the Caribbean, managing my gym time in such a way that I actually get to see the finale of I Love New York 2. Fuck you, that matters to me. Although, pretty much, I'll be shocked if Buddha doesn't win. Don't judge me, dick. As Gina says.
Not too much else, really. I'm surprised to find myself looking forward to the easy prep accompanying the research writing course I'm teaching in the spring, my anticipation of which is heightened by the fact that I have one of my best 101 students enrolled in it. Awesome! I always feel like a little bit less of a terrible teacher when I have a repeat student, though some niggling, naysaying part of my brain never fails to chime in with "the devil you know..."
As a parting gift, in so far as the conclusion of a blog is parting, I give you, by way of what I imagine is an introduction, the teacup pig. If these pictures don't make you want to curl up into a ball and die of cute poisoning, I don't think I want to know you anymore.
And...scene.
7 comments:
I thought you didn't like pumpkin? Or is that only in pie form?
I don't radically dislike pumpkin, but it's safe to say that I'm...averse. I'm not wild about pumpkin pie, in particular. However, folded into things--like some awesome soup Q made and other things--I like it just fine. Copy and paste this link to understand the extent of the seduction:
http://donteatoffthesidewalk.com/?p=129
Little piggy noses pressed into the canvas. Poke. Poke. Squee!
Oh that I could make cupcakes like yours and present them to you for YOUR birthday for a change... You are, however, welcome to my robot chair for a time. I know: I'll put on Heroes, put you in the massage chair, put a plate of kale in your lap, give C the remote, and tend to the drool of infantile regression. Good times!
Do you still have your little Rochester-bought Plastic Pocket Piggies?
I think you should combine these things and make pink cupcakes with little frosting pig noses on the tops.
I say this because those pigs are so cute that I want to put them in my mouth--a little.
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