Hello, my name. . . Hello, my name i-. . .Hello, my name is. . .

It is I, Chunk-o-Pup! I am writing on this fine morning of the day to make the request. Mama Medusa and I would like you to give me a pseudonym, or pseu--dog--nym, if you will. Hahahahahahahahahaha! I make the joke!

Anyway, to return to the business at the hand. What shall we name me? Well, as you can see, I am ridiculously cute. I am supposedly a pure-bred chihuahua, but we suspect I am part chihuahua and part tubby-tubby-chunk-o-pup-a-dor. When I am not romping and playing and making the attempts to decapitate the stuffed cat you see--submissive at my feet, as I have subdued the terrible cloth beast--in this photo, I like to crawl into my dog bed, pull my blanket over the head, and nap the nap. Mama Medusa says I snore. I doubt this to be of truthfulness. I am the lady through and through. When encountering me in the public or upon the first meeting, you might find me a bit haughty. I hold my head high and strike the disdainful pose--nose in the air, averted gaze, the whole effect smacking perfectly, I believe, of the ennui. On such occasions, how the ever, I maintain the composure, never growling or barking or nipping as I hear is common of some of the tubby-tubby-chunk-o-pup-a-dor breed. Do not think me rude. I am simply the bit shy upon making the acquaintances. I have the accent, but MM has noticed it is of the continental variety and not so much of the Central American. In the real life, I have the Puerto Rican name, that which was not given to me by the Medusa but which makes her laughful and of the happiness. She has been calling me by this name and by the most dreadful of nicknames, Chalupa. I call upon you to help me break her of this habit.

What do you feel it is appropriate to call me on the blog of Medusa? I welcome the suggestions!

Quite possibly the most exhausting and most definitely one of the best days of my life

The Big Deal Personal Suckage? Resolved! In the best possible way--a way I in my wildest dreams and hopes could not have imagined a couple of months ago. I wish I did not have to be so cryptic, but it really is unbloggable. Just know I am tremendously relieved and deliriously happy.

Chunk-o-Pup? Coming to live with me tomorrow and if all goes well, which I expect it will, forever more!

The pictures, they will be forthcoming.

The bed, it is calling.

A very very good night to all.

Hebwo [sniffle] eberyone

I am posting mostly because dear Wol misses me! Aw shucks, Wol.

The cold that I have been fighting off for weeks is digging in its chest-rattling, feverish, chilly claws and I fear (oh I fear) this might be that which starts with an "i" and ends with an "a" and goes by that obnoxious little syllable in the middle. Don't say it! Don't even think it! As soon as I finish morning stuff, I am going to go to the store and get some oxsillycock or whatever that first-sign-of-***, ***-fighting medicine is and stock up on tea and Thera-*** and such.

It doesn't help that I am trying to get the semester off its feet and dealing with being on two search commitees and trying to resolve Big Deal Personal Suckage, which may or may not be resolved by this coming Friday. And, in my inifinite wisdom, I am considering adopting a rescue dog (!!!!!), who is about to come over for a visit. Tell me, please: the last thing you need, Medusa, is a living creature to care for! The last thing! You can not even take care of yourself! Must resist!

Oops. Buzzer ringing. More later.

12:12 p.m. update: Uh oh.

Random Bullets of I Feel Like Crap

I have sniffles and chills and aches. A cold, plain and simple. I got into bed at 7:30 p.m. last night and pretty much slept straight through to 9:30 a.m. this morning. I still feel crappy. I am too cranky and foggy to put the things bouncing around in my head into narrative form, so . . .

• I might be turning into my mother. My mother avoids all people with colds at all costs. She will also cancel plans if she is coming down with a cold or recovering from a cold, because she thinks it unforgivably rude to pass on known germs to others. I am especially cranky about this cold, because I got it from someone who knew he had a cold and made plans with me anyway and didn't tell me he was recovering from a particularly nasty cold until he had exposed me to all of his germy germs. Oh god! I am a seventy-year-old woman.
• But you see, I CAN'T HAVE A COLD RIGHT NOW! This is the week after my holiday but before school starts--the week in which I have to do everything I need to do in order to start the semester on a reasonably sane note. This is TCB week. Dammit!!!!!
• More evidence that I might be turning into my mother: I bought this. My mother has always refused to use a coffee maker. She has two old-fashioned percolators and makes a pot of decaf and a pot of regular every morning. Is it really worth the trouble? After two weeks of drinking the old-fashioned percolated coffee and then returning to my Mr. Coffee coffee, I have to say "blek, blek, blek" and "yes."
• At the risk of forever losing my film critic cred, what with yesterday's recommendation and with what I am about to say, that Night at the Museum really is a cute movie. My new favorite word is "weirdie."
  
• Is the "Megan Mullally Show" really still on the air? Have you seen this thing? It's unforgivably bad. The conversations I have on my couch with my non-celebrity friends are more interesting. Oh, I could turn to "The View," which airs at the same time. Ayyyyyyyyyyyy! Right, I'll say it again, "Hey Barbara, Rosie, Elizabeth, Joy--you're killing feminism!"
• I should be getting into the shower then getting into my study and then doing the things with the syllabi and the files and the organizing and the what-not. Don't wanna. Cold. Achey. Pajamas soft. Robe warm. Bed nice.
  
• I love The Blog of Henry David Thoreau. Isn't this passage beautiful? I have swum in Walden Pond at sundown more than once and once at night under a full moon. Transformative.
• Is it okay if I stay in bed today? If I do, I would only have a few days to get ready for my semester--writing syllabi (but I've taught these classes before), reviewing student work (but that does not have to be done right now, necessarily), re-organizing study, etc. Won't I just feel like a useless slug if I do stay in bed? Agh. Annoying even myself.
• Damn you, Man with Cold! You are bigger and stronger and younger than I am! Damn you for giving me your cold and going on your merry way!
• When I feel better, I want to blog about my New Year's Resolutions, which are serious this year. Briefly, they are: 1) Goof off more; 2) Indulge on regular basis creative impulses, including new one--sewing--made possible by snazzy new sewing machine I got as a Christmas gift; 3) spend time meditating, first of all and most importantly on the question of whether a) to go for tenure at Foggy C; b) to do a bigger job search next year; c) to do something totally different; or devious option d) to get tenure at Foggy C AND to put most of my energy into doing something totally different; 4) giant Spring cleaning, starting in Winter and lingering into Summer.
• OK, what if I moved into the living room, set up camp on the futon, did some work, watched some movies, but drank juice and tea and napped at will?
  
• I am seriously thinking of getting my hair cut, which is quite long, like this. But not until Spring. Thoughts?
  
• I think I might be the most boring person with a cold in the whole world.
  

Let's start buildin' some hurtin' bombs

I am jumping on the Trailer Tuesday train, which I have been enjoying over at Addy's, to recommend . . .wait for it. . . Rocky Balboa. I loved it. I went with my father on New Year's Day. In addition to it being everything I need a Rocky movie to be, it's completely self-aware of its super cheesiness. It's also an homage to the original Rocky, which was well-loved and often quoted in my house as I was growing up. (Come to think of it, my father probably took me to the original.) It has the familiar grimy shot after grimy shot of South Philly. It has the awkward budding of an inspirational friendship. It has the training sequence, complete with raw eggs and the running of the steps. It even manages to squeeze in a "Yo, Adrian." It also unfortunately has the weird brand of racism and xenophobia present in all Stallone films. There's also the problem of it being an over-the-top product placement vehicle for HBO.

Nevertheless, you will be sucked in, you will be emotionally manipulated, and you will be glad that this film is able to so blatantly manipulate your cold, black, film-sophisticate heart. I dare you not to cry or at least do that shaking-of-the-head, tearing-up laughing thing or at the very very least smile a genuine smile for the simple fact of movies in our lives.

When the academic gods give you lemons . . .

I usually give two papers at conferences per academic year. My MLA panel proposal was rejected and now it appears my panel proposal for Important Conference, where I have given papers for the past three years, has also been rejected. This is no real surprise, as I have been paying attention to the cosmos and its message has been pretty flippin' clear: "Not your year, my dear Medusa."

But, BUT, my friends, I have concocted a delightful Plan B, the very thought of which is making my entire being shiver and tingle and smile. Instead of using my travel money to go to Important Conference, I could use it to go to Medusa's Version of Heaven. Without revealing too much, I can say that it is not an academic conference, but it does have to do with one of my areas of teaching and research expertise. And I would actually be doing Actual Things Related to my Teaching and Research. I would also be in heaven. Foggy C has footed the bill for me to go once before.

It is expensive, as in my whole travel money wad for the academic year and then a little. It does mean I would miss an entire week of classes, and the timing is especially unfortunate as that week of school is the week after Spring Break. But, BUT I would have missed half of the very next week for Important Conference anyway, and this only means cancelling one additional class session. And have I mentioned that I would be in HEAVEN???

I should do it, right? I should at least try to get the proposal through, right? Right? Right? Am I right? I am right. Right?

[Edited to add, 1/8/07, 11:25 a.m.: Dammit! I can't follow the very good advice of Artichoke Heart and Wol. I just found out that there was a screw-up and that my panel was indeed accepted for Important Conference! Now that I have an excellent and more desirable Plan B! Well, I do want to go, kind of, and it is Important Conference, but but . . . I am sure there is a lesson in here somewhere, but I think it might be that lame "you will get what you want at the second you no longer care" lesson. I wish there were a way I could do both, but, alas. If only I were an heiress. I would do much more interesting things than the Paris Hiltons of the world.]

So long from the Deep Red

I will be leaving for home tomorrow morning. It's the first time in recent memory that I am not excited to get back home. Just too much there I do not want to face. At all.

But it's a bright new year, right? I can deal. I will deal.

Catch you on the flip side.

Stu-Stu-Studio

Some shots of Mama Bear's studio. . .





Artistic Niece at work . . .





Paintings by three generations of Medusa clan women. . .

Goodbye 2006, You Nasty Nasty Bastard

I am not in the least sorry to see you go. You will go down in my personal history as the mocker of all best efforts, the minion of seemingly inescapable negative truths, and the enemy of faith and humor. No need to dwell in specifics, as the brand of failure you dished out has no redeeming value.

It's a bright new day and a bright new year.

Hello 2007! I am already half in love with you.