Briefly, I am not behind

Dulles airport shuttle

It's funny how a week's worth of canceled classes can give you just a little edge. But only a little edge. I'm prepping for Tuesday morning's class right now, and that's as far ahead as I expect to get.

Of course, I'm punishing myself (and my students) for my conference by having assignments due in every one of my classes. Yep, I'll be collecting upwards of 100 papers and other miscellaneous thingamabobs over the next two days. This now seems like an appallingly terrible idea. What was I thinking?

But the conference was good. Coming home was good. The house inspector's report was good. Life, in general, is good. Mmmm.

--I am in fact terrifically excited about moving to our new house, even though that won't happen for at least two months. It is so cute! A little 1300-square-foot bungalow built around 1900, with a front porch and a back deck and a separate garage. Hardwood floors in every room (except for the finished basement room, but I can live with that). A working fireplace. Built-ins in the living room and the hall. A breakfast nook (tentatively renamed the Annex) with skylights. A retractable clothesline! Oh wonders. And it's a--yes, I timed it--2.5-minute walk to the office. Hurrah! And it'll be quiet, unlike our current Main Street address!

What's nice is that every time we tell a Field Townian which house it is that we bought, he or she says, "Oh, that one? The one on the corner, with the porch? That's such a cute house!" A few of them even remarked that, when they saw that it was for sale, they were tempted to take a look. It's all very affirming.

What's funny about Field Town is that it's--well, it's a small town. I guess this isn't funny if you're used to it. But to us East Coastal urbanites, it's quite strange how every single person volunteers some history of the house. "The college librarian lived there in the 90s." "That house held a grocery store when I was a little girl" (this from one of the oldest people we know here). "Didn't so-and-so do some work on that place a while back?" "You mean the old Whosits' place, right?"

It's all very charming. And exciting. And kind of scary, for this means that, lo, we're committing--to some extent--to Field Town and Field College. Yikes.

How Times Change

Las Vegas airport (4).

Tomorrow night my husband and I will be dining at our minister's home.

No part of that sentence would have made sense three years ago.

I do sometimes enjoy imagining what my fourteen-year-old self would make of my current life--and have imagined this since I was eighteen or so, so that younger me has had a lot of shocks over the years. Now, of course, I have dozens of younger selves onto which I could project an impression of my present life, but for some reason fourteen remains the magic number. It probably has something to do with puberty, no? That terribly awkward switch between childhood and existing as some new kind of creature, a "woman"?

Oh, them were tricky years, them were.

Oh, Midwest!

Field College, in wee Field Town, is, well, in the Fields. We are rural.

I say this up front so that you will better understand this weekend's Big Plans.

First, there is a Quilt Show at the Farm Bureau Administration Building on Friday night and all day Saturday. I will be in attendance, because it's to benefit the non-profit on whose board I sit. I will also very likely be paying for all of the tickets that I was supposed to sell but was too passive/embarrassed to push on people.

Second, TM and I have been invited to have dinner with a few other "young couples" on Saturday and then to join them at the Square Dance Fellowship Event at the church. I have not square danced since elementary school (although I confess that I loved it back then).

And finally, on Sunday afternoon, we will trek out--well, it's not so much of a trek, being less than a mile away--we shall wander out to a local farm for a hayride and "wiener roast" (oh, poor vegetarian me). We're going because we've been curious about this farm, whose owners we know; well, the hayride might be fun, if my allergies subside by then.

So while my mom goes to gallery openings (many of them showing her work) and my brother and sister-in-law perform original songs on avant-garde public-access TV, I get hayrides, square dancing, and quilts.

I like my life. But sometimes it's very hard to recognize.

Trying My Hand at RBOBoring

Yeah, I know. This blog has become rather boring (if it wasn't already). But--from my perspective, at least--it's kind of nice: no job market trauma or student-related drama to report. (I thought about trying to avoid that internal rhyme, but I'm too lethargic to pursue alternate phrasings.)

So what's been happening? Let's see:

• I'm trying to get my rather raggedy and pathetic little yard into better shape. I have a small garden, although, owing to a) a broken sewer main that brought a backhoe plowing through the yard and b) an onslaught of small nibbly critters [I've resolved this problem with chicken wire], the garden has been christened the Garden of Despair. It is not wholly without hope, however. It looks like a couple of the tomato plants are going to make it, and a bunch of green beans just popped up; I also have chives, lemon mint, and lemon balm (the most useful of all herbs, I know. Why didn't I plant basil or something?). The peppers are clearly dying, though, and the peas have yet to make an appearance. I also planted four strawberry plants but I don't think that I'm going to let them come to fruition; they need to concentrate on getting established and expanding a little bit first.
• So much for the garden. I've been working on the yard, too. I planted a couple of pussy willow branches, which are growing lots of delightful little leaves. I love plants that just regenerate from their own branches like that! I also spent hours--yes, hours!--on Friday reseeding the lawn, using nothing but a little three-pronged claw and a bag of grass seed. My hands still hurt, but I covered all the major bare patches and, with luck, will soon have something resembling a stable ecosystem rather than the Weirdly Sticky Mud Pit with which I have been contending. I'm also aggressively encouraging the weeds by going out and watering them, too, when I water the rest of the production.
• Soon, my pretties, I will enjoy cool "weekend beverages" (in the words of one of my freshmen) out in the yard. I also need some outdoor furniture for that purpose, however.
• And oh yeah, work? Right, because I'm so productive? Like I said in that last post?
• Right.
• Okay, but actually I just swapped one of my chapters with the Minister (in exchange for one of his articles), and we might have given one another productive feedback. At any rate it appears that this chapter is less boring and baffling than I thought it was.
• The chapter is still somewhat boring, though. Perhaps it is simply the case that some things aren't all that interesting? And that that's okay? Perhaps?
• Oh, and the CAR! Yes indeed, I'm buying my dad's/stepmom's car. So I have done the following Highly Adult things:
• Got an insurance quote.
• Took out a modest loan from the bank.
• Purchased my insurance.
• Received the title and bill of sale from my folks (which didn't so much involve doing anything, but I did have to wait around one morning for FedEx).
• Gathered together all of my identification.
• Planned to go to the DMV today.
• Discovered that the local DMV is closed on Mondays.
• Rescheduled my DMV trip for tomorrow.
• So this way I can have the car registered, with plates and everything, before I pick it up at the end of the month/beginning of July. Huzzah! Another 2-day cross-country drive! With gas prices in excess of $4/gallon! All cry out Hurrah!
• And finally, I went to church yesterday. Because the Minister, who is not usually a practicing minister but rather is a professor, was preaching. I do not normally go to church. Like, ever. I wasn't raised in a religious family. In fact, I have (what I think is) a rather uncomfortable relationship with religion, which I will not discuss at this time (although perhaps a future post on the issue would be in order, since it relates in weird ways to my intellectual interests and orientations). Anyway I was very self-conscious going in there, since I actually know people who attend this church and therefore felt conspicuous, but another friend of mine turned out to be there out of friendship for the Minister, so it was a less fraught experience than I feared it would be. And he did a great job, saying some pretty interesting and challenging things in a very commanding way, yet not without humor, and, in the end, I enjoyed it.
• Hm. I'm discussing my garden and going to church. I have been assimilated by the Field. (From East Coast Urban to Rural Midwestern in only 10 months!)
  

That's it. My boring life. It's largely pleasant, though, when I'm not feeling guilty about the whole Not Working Enough thing.

(Yes, this pretty much negates that last post. Big surprise.)

Two Brief Instances of Gender Prescriptivism

1. Scene: The dentist's office.

Receptionist. Where are the toothbrushes?

Hygienist. In the closet over there. The women's toothbrushes are on the bottom shelf; the men's are on the top.

Receptionist. Women's and men's?

Hygienist. I segregate 'em: the purple and pink on the bottom, the blue and green on top. Otherwise, everyone takes the blue and green--even the women--and the men are left with pink and purple. So I just separate them to make it easier.

(I, meanwhile, am being prodded and scraped by said hygienist, which makes it impossible for me to either laugh or twist my face in incredulity.)

2. Scene: The local cafe.

Woman: They have a great playground with lots of equipment, and a costume area--the boys can dress up like superheroes, and there's a princess area for the girls.

(I actually had to stifle the urge to join in the conversation at this point. How I hate, hate, hate the "princess culture" that little girls are forced into these days! And I can say with some certainty that I would have hated it as a little girl, too--I wanted to be Luke, not Leia. Or, better yet, Darth Vader. Or even a storm trooper. I was a militaristic child.)

Ugh.

Well, the theory is that I've internetically caught the cold that Dr. Crazy received telephonically from her mother. Or that one of my many sick students has slipped me some of his or her germs. Or that my allergies are just especially bad today (too much goddamn lawn-mowing around here!), compounded by the fact that I've been getting up too early. Seriously. Way too early.

Luckily the teaching today was light. We did peer-workshopping in both sections of comp, which meant that I didn't have to perform. (Of course, I do need to read and comment on 32 papers by Friday, so I'm paying for my comfort.) In the survey we wrapped up SGGK. I love teaching my survey; I really do. My energy level always seems to be at its best in that class.

Anyway, I came home after class, changed into pajama pants--one thing graduate school taught me was to spend as little time as possible in things like bras, belts, and socks--and took an allergy pill just to see whether that would do anything. It's too soon to tell, but I'm hoping that some sleep tonight will clear things up. It has to! I fly to the Metropole on Friday evening.

In other news, one of the things about this small college in this small town is that I essentially have to be a Professor at all times (unless I'm ensconced in my apartment. With the blinds shut. And even then, there's a student in the apartment underneath mine--not one of my students, luckily). The students, they are everywhere.

Zum beispiel:

-I have been swimming three times in the last week, and ran into students on two occasions: I am therefore buying a new swim suit. The old one is a disgrace and it's bad enough that my students are seeing me almost-naked without my worrying about the weak elastic causing me to flash them at every flip-turn.

-I attended a yoga class last night, and the teacher is the mother of one of my students.

It's crazy! I don't really mind all this, but it is taking some adjusting, and I'm not used to paying so much attention to my dress and appearance. On Saturday, for example, I ran into one of my students on my way home from the liquor store; luckily the six-pack and bottle of wine were safely concealed in a canvas bag, but that didn't stop my bra strap from exposing itself.

Yeah. So that's Field Town, and me in it.

Evidence

I went for a walk this evening. I thought that, since I profess to be professing in the middle of the fields, I ought to at least go have a look at them. Right?

I set out, heading East. The following picture was taken two blocks from my front door:


It is quite beautiful here. The broad views are relaxing and easy on the eye; the fields undulate, in fact. See:


That picture doesn't show the undulating off to its fullest effect, but you get the idea.

This is a country that's built for long afternoon shadows and the hazy August sun. The days here feel long, perhaps because there's nothing much to do. Aside from prepping one's classes. But you know, I've kind of decided that I've done enough of that for one weekend? Maybe tonight I'll try to take a bite out of my accumulated Netflix.

Okay, so maybe it's not so bad

I still don't have internet (come on Tuesday evening!), but I've found a good thing in this town. Actually I knew about it before, but this is the first time I've been here: a really delightful little coffee shop (with free wireless and adequate outlets, huzzah!). There is no Starbucks in town--praise heaven for small favors--and this place is full of its own Independent Cafe Charm. They even seem to sell fair-traded or homemade gifts or some such; I haven't looked too closely, but that's what I think that rack against the wall is full of. And homemade ice cream, which I haven't tried yet but WILL TRY. Unfortunately it, like the library, is closed on Sunday, so I'm not sure that I'll even be able to get online again until Monday. Oh well.

So yeah, this is something.

And there's a supposedly large natural-foods store about 25 minutes away; I may have the loan of a car later this weekend, and go there to stock up. I'm trying my hand at yogurt-making. Things might just straighten out.

Another pleasure, although this one is decidedly seasonal: the noises here, at night and in the early morning. Crickets and cicadas and that's about it. Years of urban living and I'd forgotten how loud those guys can be. It's really nice to have that be the only noise--at night but also during parts of the day, because my street is really quiet. As my mom reminded me last night, I'm used to cities. This is a different kind of place, demanding a different kind of life. I'm not sure that I'm going to get totally into it, but it might have its merits, all the same.

Adjusting

Okay. So I'm going to be open-minded. There will be things to like here, right? There are good things about every place. Right?

Here's the deal: My apartment is pleasant, light, quiet, and consoling. Everyone I've met is nothing but friendly. But the town...oh, the town. Field Town, I am disappointed in you.

What I'm realizing (in the 3 days that I've been here) is that there are certain things that I like to have nearby. Near enough to walk to, ideally. Or to bike to--but there's no bike shop in town, so even if there were these things in bikeable range, I wouldn't be able to get to them. These are the things that I like to the point of needing:

1. a yoga studio (or, at worst, a gym with yoga classes)
2. a decent grocery store or farmers' market
3. a bookstore (other than the campus bookstore, which only sells course books)
4. multiple restaurants
5. a pleasant place to have a drink
6. a nice cafe

There's a good-looking coffee shop not too far from me, so we've got #6 covered. But 1-5? Not so much. Not at all, actually. The only drugstore/general-store nearby is a CVS. The only grocery store is a major chain with no organic yogurt or vegetables and a sorry selection of cheeses. Main Street is littered with empty buildings. All of this--well, it depresses me. I'm seriously considering starting to make my own yogurt and cheese--but I need to take care not to get too ambitious, given the workload that's about to fall upon me.

It's a shame.

Last night, making dinner, I suddenly felt sad. More than that: I felt afraid. What if this was all a mistake? I wondered. What the hell, in fact, was I thinking? Moving all the way out here, away from everyone I care about and the lifestyle I'm used to (and love), for a short-term, middlingly-paid job that I'm not actually sure yet that I'll like? Am I insane? Is everyone secretly thinking, "Wow, that j, she sure made a nutty decision there"?

Then, of course, I thought about how many of my friends have done this exact same thing, for the same stakes and with all the same discomforts (some in far, far worse places), and I felt a little better.

--Sort of. Because just how bizarre is this profession, that we expect to have to live far away from our families, friends, and partners, going through exhausting moves year after year, often postponing having children, just in the hopes of one day being able to settle in approximately the part of the continent that we'd prefer? Or in the hopes of being able to settle somewhere, period?

I know that this is an old subject, and I don't have anything new to add; nor can I imagine a plausible solution. I've thought about this a lot before, too. But living it--well, it adds a certain reality to the madness. I know that I'll get used to this place, and will probably like it fine before the year is out. (Maybe I'll break down and get a car--surely all the things I want are within half an hour of here. And I used to walk half an hour to yoga, so what's the difference? Other than the fossil fuel consumption, of course.) Right now, though, it just seems crazy.

The New Town: Pre-Impressions

I've been gathering some more pre-impressions of my new town. Everyone I've had any contact with at all out there--my new landlady, the car rental agency guy, some random faculty member I don't remember meeting--has been insanely welcoming and sweet. For example, when I called the car rental agency to find out how much a three-day in-state rental would cost, I ended up mentioning (because AgencyGuy asked me when I would need the car, and I had to explain why I was calling) that I was going to start work at the college in the fall. "Oh!" he said. "What will you be doing there?"

"Teaching in the English department," I said.

"Well, congratulations! That's wonderful!" he said. He then promised me a special, slightly discounted rate and gave me his name, so that I would know whom to talk to when I do reserve a car.

And then there's my landlady, whom I had to call last night with a question about the lease. She sounds exactly like my father's 87-year-old cousin, by the way, which predisposes me to find her benevolent. Once I'd straightened out what I needed to know, I said something conversation-ending like, "Okay, well, great! I look forward to meeting you," or whatever. But she wasn't ready for me to get off the phone. She asked me a few questions about how I was moving, etc., and then at the end of the conversation said, "Well, I think you're going to like Field Town. And I think they're going to like you. So I'll bet you'll be staying here more than a year."

Which was very sweet, if a little awkward.

All of this, on top of my department chair's exceptional generosity (and the fact that one of the other English profs was actively recruiting me for his indoor soccer team on my campus visit--fun!), is giving me the sense that the upcoming year will not be terrible, at all. It looks like there will be plenty to compensate for the heavy course load and the distance from the boyfriend--at least, in part.