Wednesday full of Logan's woe

For those of you paying attention, and I certainly haven't been, you'll remember how Laila spent her first night with us under the kitchen cupboards - the roughly 4" crawl-space that, luckily!, is open where the cupboards meet the, luckily!, moveable gas range. I say 'luckily' twice because Logan just managed to get himself stuck down there. I feel awful as it is my fault - he snuck into the cupboard as I was leaving for the grocer's and I shut the door thinking he'd just push the door open. Obviously I didn't have my cat-brain on. Cats generally take the path of least resistence. If there is a closed door (even one that could easily be opened by said cat) and a tiny door-less path, cat will take the door-less route, even if it means squishing his slightly overweight self into a place that even Laila, who is about half his size, would have to ponder.

As soon as Nas realised where Logan was, he moved the range away from the cupboard (we keep it very close to prevent Laila from investigating under there), and Logan squeeeeeeezed himself out. In retrospect, that bit was quite amusing. He's filthy though and I felt terrible as his lovely coat is all sticky with no-one-knows how many years of accumulated dirt and grime under there. We gave him some ham. I think he's okay - he's stretched out on the floor now, contemplating how much cleaning he needs before he's his gorgeous, shiny self again.

This is Tuesday

We went for a run in the rain this morning - not driving sleet or anything but we were soaked by the time we got home. The biggest trouble with running in the rain - for myself and the Tortise anyway - is glasses getting wet and fogging up. We decided, in light of this, to run a well-known loop of 25 minutes. Nas is residing on the couch at the moment as he managed to pick up a nasty bug on Sunday night when we were out with a friend who was just recovering from being flu-ish. I'm home spoiling him today - and just not feeling like walking all the way to my office in the rain only to sit there and read. May as well spoil myself a little and read in the comfort of my own lounge.

I just got notice that the library has the new Patricia Meyer Spacks book waiting for me: Privacy: concealing the eighteenth-century self. That will get me to campus tomorrow! There is no irony here - I'm can't wait. Plus it's a book that I suggested the library buy...ooh, the power.

It just struck me that I haven't read a paper in yonks. I have no idea what is going on outside of my street (nothing at the moment) and the university campus (well, at least the small world between the School of English, my office in the library and the sandwich shop over the road...). I'm assuming that everything is ticking along.

Well...I should get back to my sick husband and finishing the book I'm reading at the moment (re-reading actually - Gallagher's Nobody's Story: the vanishing acts of women writers in the marketplace, 1670-1820). My friend just posted a meme about reading that I was going to answer and put up on my blog - then I realised that I don't read for pleasure anymore... *sigh* someday...

I'm making polenta for supper and using up the last of last week's vegbox. There's a rind of provalone in the fridge and a sad little quarter of white cabbage that I've been saving. Some carrots and parsnips, roasted to summer-sweetness, should perk him (and us!) right up. Oops...I seem to be channeling Nigel Slater's less-erudite doppelganger...sorry.

Teaching and learning

My seminar groups so impressed me last week - definitely one of those classes that make it completely worthwhile. We were looking at Pope's Eloisa to Abelard - the poem that made me think that there might be something to Pope after all - and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's 'Epistle from Arthur Grey, a Footman after his condemnation for attempting rape'. They cracked 'em wide open.

Our delivery of veg and fruit was rather disappointing this week. It seemed a bit smaller and I've found a rotten kiwi, orange, apple, and a really stinky potato. I do appreciate that organic stuff doesn't keep as well as treated produce, but I found the yucky veg the day after it arrived! I know it's the end of February - not the most productive in terms of veg here in jolly ole - but still, I am paying for it. I'd prefer more fresh, usable cabbage (which I'm developing a taste for - must be my German side coming out!) than manky potatoes. Luckily, the company asks that we tell them about such incidents so I shall send out an email and hopefully no more rotten veg!

There is an tree all a-flower around the corner from our house. And the sun is shining. Today is pilates rather than running - tomorrow, with luck, the sun will shine again and we can run by the canal.

My seed potatoes are happily 'chitting' in the kitchen. My friend and I went into Saltaire for 'potato day' on Saturday - I've never seen such a scrabbling for taters! I managed to get out with four varieties (3 organic, 1 non-organic) so this year Nas, I, and our allotment-mates will be enjoying Maris Bard (1st early), red Duke of York (2nd early), Golden Wonder (early maincrop), and Arran Victory (late maincrop). I'm very excited. We're also going to plant some standard Majestic or such for everyday eating. Hopefully, this early spring will mean a long growing season. I'll take some pictures of the plot next weekend - it will be the 'before' picture! - and try and record this year's growing and such.

Yesterday I saw a friend's Baroque orchestra and choir perform Handel's Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music up at the uni. Then I went to see Hot Fuzz with Nas. I like running the gauntlet from top culture to pop culture. The singing in the concert was beautiful and the orchestra played on period instruments which is always good fun to watch. The trumpets without valves were amazing and they also had a theorbo, which is a beautiful and very unusual stringed instrument somewhere between a sitar and a mandoline in appearance... Very educational.

I wanted to be Mr Black

30 minutes again! This time without pushing. The whole running group was out this time - the Bulgarian Bullet, the Tortise, the Carrot (me!), and the Fa(s)t of Leeds. We're thinking of getting shirts like a bowling team. I'm going to propose that we all run the Run for All in June. We were down by the canal again today and it works out perfectly when all of us are out as the Bulgarian Bullet and the Fa(s)t of Leeds are much faster - as the name may suggest - than the Tortise and myself. In addition to being one of the loveliest people I've ever met, the Tortise is a great running partner. When it's just the Bullet, the Fa(s)t, and me, I run too hard trying to keep up (or impress the Fa(s)t).

My pilates instructor caught me cracking my neck in class yesterday and told me off for it. It was embarrassing. I'm trying to quit...really...after this last cra--*...ahhhhh... Pilates really is improving my posture and the pain in my shoulders and upper back from typing for long stretches. But enough about me, let me tell you about me.

We've re-signed on our place as the last thing we want to do in the middle of writing up is move. We gave them a list of repairs and such but have so far heard nothing. I'm giving it to the end of the week before I start taking out my writing-up frustration on the property agent.

The fifth season of Buffy is on Sky at the moment - in the morning too. Fantastic for getting in that ass-kicking mood so necessary to spending the entire afternoon in the library...

Oh yes, just got the new Explosions in the Sky album - really wonderful. Go get it.

I just realised that it's Shrove Tuesday. Our friend who now teaches in Turkey was famous round these parts for his pancake parties - real Canadian-style pancakes, (with real Canadian maple syrup for those who appreciate it and corn syrup with maple flavouring for those indifferent) not crepes which is what they serve here when they promise 'pancakes'. According to The River Cottage Family Cookbook, what I consider 'pancakes' are actually 'drop scones'.

So I suppose Lent is beginning. A good time for reflection. Which I suppose, traditionally, is done sometime between Christmas and New Year's - before making a 'New Year's resolution'. Who on earth can reflect during the Christmas season? Christmas Eve mass is like an oasis of calm (and potential absurdity when the sermon involves robots) in a whirlwind of family and food (my idea of heaven). Though I'd propose that resolutions and changes follow Lent rather than be part of them. I get the whole giving up indulgence and the origins of the season (is Lent a season? I suppose if January and February are now 'Awards Season', Lent has its credentials in order), but I think 40 days of reflection would produce at least a resolution or change with half a hope of lasting longer than Easter dinner.

Jogging to Stars

I ran for 30 minutes this morning.

Okay, Nasser pushed me to run for 30 minutes when I would have given up at 20. But I did it.

It was a really beautiful morning - there are already crocuses (croci?) up in the parks. The sun was actually warm on my face. The pavement was dry. From the top of the ridge we could see clear over the valley. It's one of my favourite views. One day I'll take a photo and post it.

Well my friend at work just told me she ran for 2 hours and 21 minutes.

She's training for the Paris Marathon (and running for WaterAid). I'm not. There is a run in June that I'd like to do though. It's organized by cancer-survivor Jane Tomlinson. Kinda like the Terry Fox runs back home, it's a 10km run for cancer research. As it isn't until June, I've got loads of time to work up to it.

I see Britney Spears shaved her head. And there is an amazing photo of a 4,000 year old star dying in the Observer today. Here it is at the Hubble site. 4,000 years ago and it makes the news today. Everything old is new again.

While you are pondering whether or not your passing will be so remarkable, check out this site on black holes. I love hubble. I'd like a shirt with that on it and maybe a pretty picture of the lion's head nebula.

and then there were seven...

Seven months, that is (until The Deadline). My supervisor wants to see a 'complete draft' of my thesis in five weeks. This is good as my deadline is 30 September - still far far away - but also terrifying as I'm quite happy in the cocooned academic world of post-graduate research. Even though I'm occassionally sick to death of living like a student (tho I don't mind the discounts - particularly on rail travel!), I find I'm rather afraid of those first big steps in the world without teacher.

Which is ridiculous because as Dr Cox finally tells JD, 'you and your "colleagues" have all actually learned enough to start teaching each other' (it's a bit flat as the performance is really inimitable). And of course, (in the most optimistic of moods as it is beautifully sunshiny outside and the library is quiet), I have my students.

At any rate, I'm nearly finished my dissertation which is really rather amazing. I may have to go and have a drink tonight to celebrate the fact that after all that stress, I'm not going to have to dash to the finish.

What else?

I made another loaf of bread all by my lonesome. um...we're still running - which is very good. I really should have applied to the IGA conference but my idea is still a bit skechy and I'm not actually sure that I'm talking about Gothic texts. But there is a very exciting conference in Aberdeen, hosted by the Centre for the Study of the Novel, which is at least more affordable!

After this weekend I have five weekends off in a row! I hope that this lovely weather holds and I can get up to the garden. Next weekend is the seed-potato sale/real-ale festival in Saltaire - I know, you all wish you were here. Well let me tell you - there are few things more enjoyable than an ale festival in the north of England.

obligatory soft focus kitten shots

i thought that things seemed a bit text-heavy lately, so here's a gratuitous shot of our foundling.

Laila's Very Bad Day

Laila had a Very Bad Day yesterday. It began, like most mornings, with her people getting up and having tea. But then she was unceremoniously captured and stuffed in her basket. I do hate putting her in there - she cries as soon as the door closes. And doesn't stop crying until she gets to the vet where I can almost see her little voice freeze up with fear. She pooped in her cage while we were in the cab - thankfully, the cabbie was a pet-owner himself and very understanding. The vet took her temperature which just can't be fun anyway, said how small ('titchy') she was, petted her and stuffed her back in the basket again. Then I had to leave her there. Poor little thing!

I walked back up to Meanwood to fetch her later in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day actually and the walk was lovely. Since we stopped working in Headingley, I've stopped walking up that way.

At any rate, I got to the vet's just in time for the appointment (it's a 45 minute walk!) - poor Laila! She hadn't come round from the anaesthetic as quickly as they thought she would. She was swaying and weaving like a public-school boy on a five-day freshers week bender. Her foreleg was shaved and she had a big bald patch with the incision on her side. She woozled around the house all evening - much to my amusement and Nasser's dismay (he's got a bit of a soft spot for this one) - but wasn't sick and didn't worry at her stitches.

Also, I made my first loaf of bread - from Hugh Fernley-Wittingstall's The River Cottage Family Cookbook. It was beautiful and likely the most rewarding cooking experience I've had in ages. Not matched tonight alas - I just cannot get the hang of latkes...


Oh and Laila has fully recovered. Here is a picture of my amazing bread (with sundried tomato and black olives...) and Nasser's banana bread (we don't have a loaf tin so it's more of a cake-shape).

poop on my shoes

i absolutely love my life sometimes.

lately, we have changed our running route. for the last six weeks or so, i was running along a big traffic artery here in Leeds. it was useful when i was beginning to run, because i could measure my progress pretty easily. if i made it to a certain landmark on the street one day (a bus stop, a certain store, a lamppost), i would try to surpass that distance the next time.

the down side to the old route was the traffic. the honking. the people in their cars, watching as i huffed and puffed my way past them, mired in morning rush. the people in their cars who took it upon themselves to make rude gestures, or mock my pathetic speed. the people in their SUVs, perched so high that they didn't see me at all.

now, i spend my mornings running though a postcard. with perhaps a few more empty beer cans and crisp packets and carrier bags and cigarette butts, sure

but no cars.

now, i cover the miles in a blissful, arboreal paradise along the euphemistically named 'river' Aire. today, i finished a fast four or five miles, looked down, and noticed a tiny brown stain on my ankle.

it was poop.

from what animal, i know not. but somewhere between the fresh air and the endophins, i found i couldn't care less. so go on, dog walkers, stray cats, foxes, badgers, feral children...poop wherever you like. i'll run right through it.