Ah, Friday. Might be Knitting.
My big plan for the day, once I get to work, which I plan to do any time now but not just this minute, is to completely uncover my desk (I think by actually dealing with all the various pieces of paper on it, rather than by throwing them all out, though by GOD that has crossed my mind as a possible plan), so that when I leave for the Thanksgiving Vacation in Albuquerque I don't have to carry any work with me.
Just knitting.
I'm making my way through "Margaret Tudor" these days, and not getting that much done on it, since mostly in the evenings I'm working on various pieces of paper which I grabbed off my desk before I left work, but I'm working on it, and I'll be taking it with me on the Vacation, and it will be the Vacation Knitting, and maybe I'll come back with some more of it done.
(Quick update for New Readers who know not what "Margaret Tudor" is: An intricate contraption of several complex open-work panels, the "Margaret Tudor" sweater, which can be found in Alice Starmore' s Tudor Roses, requires not only years of one's life to make, but also 54 pewter buttons with Tudor Roses on them, which are used to hold down the points of the overlay panels, which are embellished with thistles, as a counter point to the roses of the underlay panels. It is all Deeply Meaningful. I am knitting it because I am Not Well.)
June commented recently that I should make sure that the 54 buttons are comfortable and don't dig into my back while I'm driving or anything, but that is the comment of a sane woman, clearly. I don't care if the thing's uncomfortable. I want to wear that complex monument to the Tudor dynasty. It OUGHT to be uncomfortable, I think, so as to enhance its metaphoric value. It's like climbing Everest. I knit it because it is there. Then I'll wear it for the same reason, I guess.
I would make Sam take more pictures of it, but the fact is that it's a bunch of open work panels, and at this point they all look alike, and even though I've made a lot or progress since he last took pictures, the mess of knitting I've got doesn't really look much different than it did in the last picture, which I will hereby upload again, so that you can be reminded of what my version looks like:
But I'm not getting much knitting done, as I say, on account of being in a piece of my work life that drains me of all things except the ability to answer memos and emails.
I went into the Contemporary Drama class on Tuesday all ready to discuss the play I thought I'd assigned for the day, only to be told by my students -- who were very dear and gentle about it -- that they'd prepared something entirely different, on account of following the syllabus and not the unglued meanderings of my head.
They were darling. We actually got 45 minutes of discussion out of the 4-page play that Didn't Have My Teaching Notes In It -- entirely because they came up with things to talk about, and answered my questions at great length and with details. And then thought up stuff themselves.
Very dear of them -- you can imagine how dreadful it would have been if they'd sat in their chairs and done nothing. I think I'll bake them some sort of treat last week of classes.
Anyway. Fried. I'm just Fried.
Going to go to work, move paper around, put Teaching Notes into the texts I'm really working with -- am planning on reading the syllabus Very Carefully first -- then come home and knit. I think I might spend the entire weekend knitting.
Other bits: Apparently there is a twin to Rob at Cockeyed.com -- another young man, who admires Rob so much (and Rightfully so!) that he has emulated him -- Rob, as could be expected, far from taking exception to this blatant plagiarism, has posted a link to his site. The newcomer, Kirk, has created the experiment "How Much Is In Cookie Dough Ice Cream," in true Rob fashion. Turns out there are two cookies in cookie dough ice cream, and they don't look very tasty. But the experiment's worth reading.
And many thanks to Christina for the link to The Things I Will Not Do If I Direct A Shakespeare Production (scroll down a bit). The list includes such things as "I will not require any actor to brush his teeth onstage. Especially if the production is supposed to be set in period," and "Anything that requires anyone to be flopping long sheets of cloth in the background to symbolize something, including our set designer's on strike, should probably be rethought," and "I will not set Macbeth in a post-apocalyptic future wasteland. Furthermore, under no circumstance will Banquo be a robot, alien, mutant, or any combination of the above."
There are 327 of these gems, ALL of them correct and good, and the Livejournal users have added more. Clearly, Lea's forced by fate to sit through WAY too many bad productions of Shakespeare. It's lovely to read the list, though. You can obtain all the amusement available from bad productions of Shakespeare, without having to actually sit through them.
Happy Friday, all! Catch you later. Please read your syllabus carefully.
Just knitting.
I'm making my way through "Margaret Tudor" these days, and not getting that much done on it, since mostly in the evenings I'm working on various pieces of paper which I grabbed off my desk before I left work, but I'm working on it, and I'll be taking it with me on the Vacation, and it will be the Vacation Knitting, and maybe I'll come back with some more of it done.
(Quick update for New Readers who know not what "Margaret Tudor" is: An intricate contraption of several complex open-work panels, the "Margaret Tudor" sweater, which can be found in Alice Starmore' s Tudor Roses, requires not only years of one's life to make, but also 54 pewter buttons with Tudor Roses on them, which are used to hold down the points of the overlay panels, which are embellished with thistles, as a counter point to the roses of the underlay panels. It is all Deeply Meaningful. I am knitting it because I am Not Well.)
June commented recently that I should make sure that the 54 buttons are comfortable and don't dig into my back while I'm driving or anything, but that is the comment of a sane woman, clearly. I don't care if the thing's uncomfortable. I want to wear that complex monument to the Tudor dynasty. It OUGHT to be uncomfortable, I think, so as to enhance its metaphoric value. It's like climbing Everest. I knit it because it is there. Then I'll wear it for the same reason, I guess.
I would make Sam take more pictures of it, but the fact is that it's a bunch of open work panels, and at this point they all look alike, and even though I've made a lot or progress since he last took pictures, the mess of knitting I've got doesn't really look much different than it did in the last picture, which I will hereby upload again, so that you can be reminded of what my version looks like:
But I'm not getting much knitting done, as I say, on account of being in a piece of my work life that drains me of all things except the ability to answer memos and emails.
I went into the Contemporary Drama class on Tuesday all ready to discuss the play I thought I'd assigned for the day, only to be told by my students -- who were very dear and gentle about it -- that they'd prepared something entirely different, on account of following the syllabus and not the unglued meanderings of my head.
They were darling. We actually got 45 minutes of discussion out of the 4-page play that Didn't Have My Teaching Notes In It -- entirely because they came up with things to talk about, and answered my questions at great length and with details. And then thought up stuff themselves.
Very dear of them -- you can imagine how dreadful it would have been if they'd sat in their chairs and done nothing. I think I'll bake them some sort of treat last week of classes.
Anyway. Fried. I'm just Fried.
Going to go to work, move paper around, put Teaching Notes into the texts I'm really working with -- am planning on reading the syllabus Very Carefully first -- then come home and knit. I think I might spend the entire weekend knitting.
Other bits: Apparently there is a twin to Rob at Cockeyed.com -- another young man, who admires Rob so much (and Rightfully so!) that he has emulated him -- Rob, as could be expected, far from taking exception to this blatant plagiarism, has posted a link to his site. The newcomer, Kirk, has created the experiment "How Much Is In Cookie Dough Ice Cream," in true Rob fashion. Turns out there are two cookies in cookie dough ice cream, and they don't look very tasty. But the experiment's worth reading.
And many thanks to Christina for the link to The Things I Will Not Do If I Direct A Shakespeare Production (scroll down a bit). The list includes such things as "I will not require any actor to brush his teeth onstage. Especially if the production is supposed to be set in period," and "Anything that requires anyone to be flopping long sheets of cloth in the background to symbolize something, including our set designer's on strike, should probably be rethought," and "I will not set Macbeth in a post-apocalyptic future wasteland. Furthermore, under no circumstance will Banquo be a robot, alien, mutant, or any combination of the above."
There are 327 of these gems, ALL of them correct and good, and the Livejournal users have added more. Clearly, Lea's forced by fate to sit through WAY too many bad productions of Shakespeare. It's lovely to read the list, though. You can obtain all the amusement available from bad productions of Shakespeare, without having to actually sit through them.
Happy Friday, all! Catch you later. Please read your syllabus carefully.
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