I'm going to let you in on a little secret: graduate student life is pretty swank. Okay, okay. Yes, there's the teaching and the writing and the researching and whatnot, all for very (VERY) little money. But you pretty much get to set your own hours, you work on something you love (presumably, otherwise why are you here?), you don't have a pointy-headed boss breathing down your neck, and nobody ever demands to see your TPS reports. But there's one catch: you have to produce. By that I mean, you have to DO the research, WRITE the dissertation, and so on and so forth. Lather, rinse, and repeat as needed. And I have to say that one of the most daunting aspects of the whole writing process (and I think this is true for writers everywhere, academic or not) is the blank page. The blank page that stares back at you, scornfully, with it's blinking cursor. Blink, blink, blink. It almost says, "Go on, write something! You know you have to write eventually. WRITE, DAMN YOU!" Or at least that's what mine says. Maybe I should switch software. But then I'd get the Jewish mother software: "You never write anymore! What, it would kill you to write a single sentence? Fine, ignore me! Maybe you'll miss me when I'm dead."

I had to take Amos to the vet this morning, for his dreaded overly-expensive much-needed dental appointment. He was bouncing around the house prior to our departure, meowing up a storm, and getting underfoot. But when I returned from retrieving his cat carrier, he was nowhere to be seen. It was like he had disappeared entirely, as if he'd somehow managed to build a kitty disappearing bag, so invisible was he. I checked out all of his usual haunts. No Amos. Finally, in desperation, I looked under the guest bed (which is sort of inaccessible because it's largely blocked by stacks of bamboo flooring and a big roll of underlayment). And that's where he was. It took two of us ten minutes to get that fat bugger out from under the bed, and yet more than I wonder how he got under there, I really wonder how he knew we were going to the vet in the first place?!?

Update: Do you need an update? I think you need an update. Amos had a cracked tooth and it'll need to be extracted. Suddenly I'm feeling guilty for calling him a "fat bugger," among other things. Story at 10.

Updated Update: So yeah, extracted tooth and all. Apparently the tooth broke while they were trying to extract it, whereupon the doctor ordered an xray to see if anything remained behind. Lo, there was the root, so they drilled it out. Apparently the little guy is going to be fine, and the $310 initial quote is looking more and more like I should just turn over my paycheck this Friday. (I don't know if I should be more alarmed by that thought, or the reality that my paychecks are quite small. Hmm.)

There's a great New Yorker cartoon that shows one dog, at a computer, talking to another dog in the room. The dog at the computer says, "On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog." It's a wonderful commentary on the anonymity of the internet, where you can pick and choose what people know about you.

This anonymity has downsides, of course, one of which is that there are no consequences for what you say. Oftentimes this fact frees people to say the most horrible, hurtful things imaginable, like "I'm glad you had that miscarriage, you deserved it." Or "you're a terrible mother and I'm sure your children hate you." I see this happen on blogs all the time. A blogger will post an entry and, if the site has a great deal of visitors, there will be at least one commenter who says something that they would never say to a person's face. But the internet provides a sort of shield in that way, that you can say what you want and not have to face the music.

The good news is that there's an upside as well. One of the things I find so freeing about the anonymity of the internet is that you can find out things about people bit by bit and allow people to find out things about you bit by bit. This enables people to get to know one another as human beings instead of a collection of labels that, in the real world, might prevent them from getting to each other in the first place. In effect, it allows everyone to illustrate that they are so much more than the sum of their beliefs. And I think there's something really lovely about that.

John: Oh, WOW! Rancilio makes a four group, semi-automatic commercial espresso maker... and it's $10,400

Me: JESUS CHRIST!

John: Yeah, but it's so pretty!

So the Bush Administration had until January 9th to decide whether or not to protect polar bears under the Endangered Species Act. First they missed the deadline, then they postponed making a decision. Instead, they went ahead with plans to sell oil and gas leases in the Chukchi Sea, a major polar bear habitat, off the Alaskan coast. Here's what all this means: if the administration had added polar bears to the Endangered Species Act, they'd have to take action to protect polar bear habitat. They'd have to, in other words, actively work towards reversing the effects of global warming. They'd have to, let's say, start mandating better fuel efficiency for vehicles (thereby pissing off auto makers and the oil industry). Or they'd have to mandate more stringent caps for greenhouse gas emissions and carbon dioxide emissions (thereby pissing off the energy lobby, not to mention others). Or they'd have to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, which might actually make their collective heads explode (thereby releasing more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, I'm sure). So yeah, they don't want to protect polar bears under the Endangered Species Act because they'd have to do lots of things they really don't want to do, like angering the people who line their pockets. Instead, by forging ahead with their oil and gas lease plan, they're making those people happy. Look, the bottom line is that polar bears habitat is fast disappearing, even though it doesn't need to be. Go here to send a message to your representative about putting a halt to the Bush Administration's lease plan. I'd like my nieces to know what polar bears are, when they're old enough. kthnkxbai

A few days ago, this conversation about Grand Theft Lydia (great name, Kim!) REALLY pissed me off. But now I can totally see the funny, on both sides.

Me: Not to put too fine a point on it, but he could DIE while she's in his house.

John: Way to be sensitive about the situation, Em.

Disclaimer: I questioned the wisdom of blogging about this, but after Sally gave her consent, I decided to forge head.

About six months ago, I got a terrible phone call from Sally. Her dad had died unexpectedly. We talked for over an hour, cursing the fact that we were so far apart at such a time, crying over her loss, and-- as can be expected when Sally and I talk-- laughing hysterically. We weren't laughing about her dad, clearly, just laughing because that's what old friends do. When I got off the phone, I crossed the house to tell John the news. His reaction, naturally, was one of complete shock. "Oh my GOD. [beat] Then WHY were you LAUGHING?!?"

Before we put up a fence, our crazy neighbor used to waltz into our yard and walk around like he owned the place. Once we fenced the yard, he started opening the gate and letting himself in. So we put a lock on the gate, whereupon he started looking over the fence by using a step ladder. Everyone up to speed? Good. Now, it seems, he thinks he has rights to our animals as well as our yard. Don't get me wrong-- I don't mind him trying to pet the cats, or chatting up Luke while John's walking him. But I take issue with our latest discovery: he brings Lydia inside his house. Let me repeat that, so it really sinks in: our ninety year-old neighbor has, heretofore unbeknownst to us and most certainly without our permission, been bringing one of our cats into his house. I'm so baffled by this latest revelation, so completely flabbergasted, that I don't even know what to say. And trust me, when you've done something to render ME speechless, you've pulled off quite a feat. How am I supposed to address this?

Over the weekend, John and I installed marmoleum in the kitchen. Other than a few glitches, it came together really well and we're very pleased with the results. We'll install the trim and the thresholds later, once we're done with the flooring in the rest of the house. For now, though, here's a quick look:

I'm teaching the second half of the US history survey again this semester, and I started out by talking about the end of the Civil War. I asked the students, "who was President during the Civil War?" And the answer came back, "Jefferson Davis." ... ..... ......

I couldn't make this up if I tried. This took place the other night:

Me [waking up suddenly]: There's someone in the room!

John: Hit the spin jump button.

Me: What?!? There's someone in the room!

John: Yeah, hit the spin jump button.

Me: ... .....

I think we maybe need to play less Paper Mario.

Building on yesterday's post:

John: Did you set your alarm?

Me [face down in my pillow]: Mrph mrph.

John: .... I guess I'll just ask your pillow later.

Me [waking up suddenly]: A nightmare! I had a nightmare!

John [still asleep]: Do you want me to get it for you?

Me: No, I had a nightmare!

John: Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want me to go get it for you?

Me [now completely awake]: John, I'm trying to tell you that I had a nightmare.

John: Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.

Luke got a moose toy for Christmas. But not just any moose toy. This particular one had an oversized tennis ball torso, rope legs, and a soft squeaky head. When you're Luke, life doesn't get any better than this. Like a proud father, he checked it out from head to toe.

It was love at first sight, from day one.

He never let that moose get out of his sight.

He even took it to bed with him.

He loved it so much that he couldn't help but disembowel the moose...

...and rip its legs off.

Okay, so maybe not a story you want to read to the kids at bedtime. But don't all great love stories have tragic endings?

According to my statistics meter, more people find my blog by googling "itchy butt" than anything. Sure, I get the occasional visitor from "living in gainesville florida" or from "deaf in one ear," but mostly those who don't already know about my blog get here by googling "itchy butt." That's the kind of notoriety I'm looking for in life.

One of the gifts I gave to John for Christmas was a temperature-variable electric kettle. He's really gotten a lot of use out of it already, but by far the most enjoyment we've had has come from the brand name: Utili-Tea. We say it over and over, deftly executing Cartman-like inflection. "Utili-tay." "Utili-tay." And, my personal favorite, "Utili-TAY!" I know, right? Adventures in dorkdom. It's how we roll.

Setting: On the phone last night with Sally, after she's explained the new American Gladiator on NBC:

Me: Wait, is that the one where they're on rollerskates?

Sally: NO! Did they used to have something like that, back in the day?

Me: Yeah, it was at least a few years ago.

Sally: Like roller derby?

Me: Yeah, but it wasn't called roller derby... it was called, like, "Roller Gladiators" or "Bitches on Skates" or something.

Sally: COOL!!!

We're trying something new at the Casey Household. It's called "Instead of Sleeping Until 9 and Working Until 11, Let's Get Up When Normal People Get Up and Have a More Regular Schedule." Okay, that's the official name. The unofficial name is "Get Out Of My Way, I'm Not a Morning Person." In theory, I think a new schedule is a good idea. In theory, I think it's good to be working when the rest of the world is working and sleeping when the rest of the world is sleeping. In practice, I question our sanity. Neither one of us is a morning person and we both like to stay up late. Thus far the reality of the new schedule is that we're up until midnight or so anyway, then we try to get up at 6. The results are, I suppose, predictable. By 2 yesterday afternoon, I was all "this is haaaaard" and by 5, John was all "this isn't working." For those of you who work at an office, if you could work from home, would you keep the same 8-5 schedule? Or would you tweak it?

As if being deaf in one ear and using words incorrectly weren't bad enough, I also have a minor speech impediment. Not officially, you understand. I'm not trying to say that I stutter uncontrollably or speak with a lisp. No, instead I search for words aloud, very rapidly, and very noisily. The classic one that John always cites is when I asked him to please hand me my "table CHAIR HAT!" But tonight, I may have surpassed that. John got up from "Paper Mario" and mentioned that he was going to let one of the cats inside. I tried to respond by telling him that I hadn't even heard her. Simple sentence, right? Unfortunately, what came out was "I didn't even EAR EAR EAR EARRING EAR EARSIGHT!" Sometimes I wonder if I'm fit for public consumption.

I saw this elsewhere in the blogosphere (notably here, here, and here) and thought I'd tackle it. It's quite an exercise!

1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before?

   I cooked. I've always known how to bake, but never really knew how to cook. This past year I pushed myself to learn how to cook.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year [2008]?

   I never was one for new years' resolutions, but John and I made a few this year: Finish the groceries we buy; Make our lives more environmentally friendly; Use the things we own, donate the rest; Fight about stupid things less and manage our stress more skillfully; Follow-through on home improvement projects; Celebrate our successes.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

   My sister-in-law gave birth a year ago this month.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

   Thankfully, no.

5. What countries did you visit?

   None, sadly.

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?

   More patience.

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

   May 9th, because that's when I became ABD (All But Dissertation), and July 2nd, because that's when tragedy struck my dear friend Sally AND Amos almost died.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

   I actually had a lot of success professionally. I passed my qualifying exams, became ABD, won a women's history award, got a paper accepted to a conference, and got a small travel grant.

9. What was your biggest failure?

   Truth be told, I can't think of a huge failure. Maybe I've blocked it.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

    I was really sick last January, leftover from November and December the previous year (sheesh!), but that was it.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

    Our bamboo floors.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

    John, who navigated the waters of my graduate school anxiety in that calm, steadfast way that only he can pull off.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

    George Bush and Brittney Spears. For different reasons.

14. Where did most of your money go?

    I ask myself that all the time. Our mortgage, I suppose.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

    Becoming ABD. Hands down.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?

    1234, by Feist.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?

    Happier, thinner, and poorer. Two out of three ain't bad!

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

    I wish I'd blogged more. Participating in NaBloPoMo made me realize how much I love blogging.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

    Oh, I still think I worry too much and let stress get the better of me.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

    Wow, how didn't we spend Christmas? We flew to Kansas, spent time by ourselves in Lawrence, spent time with John's family, spent time with my family, spent time with friends, then came home and celebrated Christmas just the two of us. I'd love to figure out how to uncomplicate Christmas. That would actually make a great resolution, if it weren't so unattainable.

21. Did you fall in love in 2007?

    No, but I do recall several meals that I declared to be so good that I could have married them, had I not already married John.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

    The Planet Earth series on Discovery.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

    No, 'coz arms are for hugging.

24. What was the best book you read?

    Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

    Jose Gonzalez.

26. What did you want and get?

    A Nikon D-80.

27. What did you want and not get?

    A realistic solution to global warming.

28. What was your favorite film of the year?

    Yeah, we don't really go to the movies. I pretty much dislike the whole movie-going experience.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

    On my actual birthday, I took a ton of calls from family and friends and baked an apple pie. A couple days later when John returned from his business trip, I opened all of my presents. Then, a few days after that, we went out to eat while we were in Lawrence. All in all, a wonderful 30th birthday!

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

    As much as I dislike focusing on money, I have to say that having John's boss pay him on time would have made 2007 MUCH less stressful and, thus, much more satisfying.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

    If it's clean and it fits, wear it. Do not, under pain of death, wear velour or hip huggers.

32. What kept you sane?

    The knowledge that someday I'd have my PhD and a jobbie-job.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most

    Al Gore, though I wouldn't say I fancied him, what with all the high school crush implications therein. I'll just say I admired him.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

    Global warming.

35. Who did you miss?

    Family, friends, and Kansas. My goal for us is to live within driving distance to them, because 1200 miles is just too far away.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

    Though I didn't meet her formally, historian Laura Edwards gave a talk to a small group of us in the History Department and I instantly liked her. She embodies exactly what I admire in women historians.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.

    Things that are worthwhile are rarely easy.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

    "Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter/Little darling, it feels like years since its been here/Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say it's all right" Here Comes the Sun, by the Beatles

Setting: John and I were playing a Nintendo game and John's character was trying to fish, except that the fish weren't biting.

Me: Hey, John-- the fish are being coy!

John: *groan*

Setting: At the Kansas City airport, John was busy hefting our many bags around.

Me: Hey, John-- you've got lots of baggage!

John: *groan*

Thank you, everyone, I'll be here all week! Be sure to tip your waitresses.

One of my favorite stories from our Christmas vacation came from a church sign we saw while driving through Tonganoxie, Kansas. It said, "Santa Never Died For Anyone."