Buttonholed by beauty

I walked into a class this morning and heard a student say "You always have such cute outfits," and I had to look behind me to see if she was talking to someone else. But no: she was talking to me, which is kind of crazy because (1) some of my teaching clothes are as old as my students; (2) living in two houses means that I don't always have access to the items I need to complete an outfit; and (3) it's just plain black pants and a sage camp shirt today, nothing particularly special.

But I did remember--for the third time this semester!--to accessorize. The sage camp shirt features these lovely marbled brown buttons, which reminded me of a necklace I haven't worn for years. (I have a thing for cute buttons. Years ago, I bought a set of antique mother-of-pearl buttons at a flea market and then sewed an entire wool skirt suit to show off the buttons. Charcoal gray wool with a burgundy silk blouse, in case you were wondering.) 

So if that necklace has been sitting there for years--possibly decades--without screaming to be worn, why did I put it on today?
 
I blame my mom. Last week in Florida I looked at some of her pretty things and thought how sad it was that she used them so rarely, but then I realized that someday someone will say the same thing about me: all those earrings, necklaces, and brooches gathering dust in a jewelry box! Why not put them to use?

So while I'm working hard to prepare meaningful activities for my students, I'm also putting a little more thought into how I can use all the little pretty things in my jewelry box. I'll never be a fashion plate because I'm far more interested in comfort than style, but I can spend a few extra minutes in the morning bringing a smidgen of beauty into the world--just for today. (No promises about tomorrow.)

Button and necklace, made for each other.

  



 

Not quite down for the count

How many times does the universe have to punch you in the face before you decide to sit out a round? I'm working from home today to avoid yet another punch while trying to recover from a series of blows that may seem insignificant separately but succeeded in knocking me off my feet.

It started with a virus, some sort of stomach bug that's been going around campus, and I'm not going to share the details but it kept me up half the night and left me feeling woozy and slow. (I started feeling icky during the faculty meeting yesterday, so if I unintentionally passed this virus on to any of my colleagues, um, sorry!) 

I could have stayed home this morning since I don't teach on Tuesdays but I'd left a pile of work on my desk that really needed to be done, so I bundled up against the weather (snow and sleet and cold cold cold in the third week of April) and drove to town to collect my laptop, papers, and books. I hadn't gone five miles down the highway before a truck passing the other way tossed something against my windshield, making a BOOM so loud I involuntarily closed my eyes, which is not the optimal method for driving on slippery roads.

But I survived, and when I surveyed the situation I saw only a minor ding on my windshield. I've seen such dings develop over time into networks of cracks obstructing vision, so I took a photo in preparation for that inevitable moment when my insurance guy asks me exactly when and where the damage occurred. Yes, I've been down this road before.

I posted a note on my office door and came back home, so I was not there when a certain person stopped by my office to reveal that a major detail for All Scholars Day (Friday!) had suddenly gone all cattywampus through no fault of my own. I'm glad I got to deal with this problem via e-mail, which gave me time to compose myself before responding, but ouch--that smarts.

And now I'm sitting here bundled up on the sofa prepping classes and grading presentations and wondering why my hands are so cold, and the answer is: because the temperature in the house has been falling steadily all morning. Why? Because the pump that runs the hot water from the wood-burner to heat the house has stopped limping its sorry way through the winter and ceased functioning entirely.

And at this point I could just give up, but hey, I've survived worse than this. Toss a virus at my body, a rock at my windshield, a snafu into my best-laid plans, and a monkey-wrench into my heating system and somehow I'll roll with the punches and keep standing.

(Make that sitting. Under a pile of blankets. When I'm not running to the bathroom.) 

It's much more impressive if you hear the boom.

 

Things that go "piph" in the night

I'm supposed to be sound asleep right now but my mind kept gnawing on an upcoming reading assignment in my Comedy class and I had a sudden epiphany about how to introduce an important concept, so of course I had to get up and write it down. 

This happens a lot--unexpected epiphanies disturbing my sleep. Just the other night I woke up in the middle of the night knowing how to present a particular concept in African-American Lit. But here's the thing: these late-night epiphanies are always in aid of literature classes and not freshman writing classes. Always.

So right now I ought to be getting a good solid chunk of sleep so I'll be prepared to teach my two freshman classes in the morning, but instead I'm obsessing over something I won't even need to think about until next week. My epiphanies clearly have no concern for my teaching schedule. Halfway through class I'll be struggling to make sense through a sleep-deprived fog and I'll just have to apologize to my poor suffering students. "Sorry," I'll say; "The epiphany ate my homework."