December 8: Explore the Moon, Hectic and Wonderful Week, Quiet Moments

There were barricades on the main roads leading into the ruins.  Germans were stopped there.  They were not permitted to explore the moon.

Welcome to the end of an incredibly hectic and wonderful week.  I sort of feel as though I've been wandering over the surface of the moon this week, not really exploring, but bouncing in a state of weightless energy.  Tuesday, my daughter's birthday.  Tuesday night, I hosted a benefit reading with some wonderful writers for a local canned food drive for area food pantries.  Wednesday night, teaching.  Thursday, the awards ceremony at the university where I received the Excellence in Part-Time Faculty Teaching Award.  Thursday evening, the monthly poetry workshop I facilitate.  Then this afternoon, I did some poetry with my nephew's fifth grade class.

I'm a little whipped.  At the moment, I am standing at the barricades of Friday, looking back over the last five days, wondering how I managed to survive.  I find myself physically weary, wanting to hibernate.  But my crazy life isn't going to slow down for a while.

I have about 3,250 pounds of grading to do.  On Sunday evening, my book club is meeting at my house.  I have to clean the house and cook something for that.  Next Thursday, I have a Christmas poetry reading at my hometown library.  Then, once I get through all that, I have a two-day gig at the Calumet Theater, recording a syndicated radio program, right before Christmas.

My life in a snapshot. 

I am not saying all this for sympathy.  I enjoy what I do.  Love reading poetry.  Performing poetry.  Workshopping poetry.  Love teaching, sharing what limited expertise I have.  However, the firestorm of events in these weeks has me feeling slightly overwhelmed.  I will get through it all.  I always do.  It's a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, grading one paper at a time, reading one poem and then the next.

So, those are my excuses for not posting last night.  Imagine that you're a German, standing at the barricades, staring at the lunar landscape of my life.

Saint Marty is thankful for some quiet moments tonight.

November 10: Down from His Cross, Parent/Teacher Conferences, Excellence in Part-Time Faculty Teaching Award

Now his snoozing became shallower as he heard a man and a woman speaking German in pitying tones.  The speakers were commiserating with somebody lyrically.  Before Billy opened his eyes, it seemed to him that the tones might have been those used by the friends of Jesus when they took His ruined body down from His cross.  So it goes.

Billy opened his eyes.  A middle-aged man and wife were crooning to the horses.  They were noticing what the Americans had not noticed--that the horses' mouths were bleeding, gashed by the bits, that the horses' hooves were broken, so that every step meant agony, that the horses were insane with thirst.  The Americans had treated their form of transportation as though it were no more sensitive than a six-cylinder Chevrolet.

I am sorry that I didn't post last night.  Like Billy at the end of the war, I found myself in bed, snoozing, at around nine o'clock last night.  I didn't really wake up until my alarm clock went off at six this morning.  I didn't hear crooning Germans or horses in pain while I slept.  No Jesus-down-from-His-cross sounds.  I was dead to the world for a good nine hours.

The last couple weeks have been incredibly busy and incredibly exhausting, from the week before Halloween until now.  Yesterday evening, I went to parent/teacher conferences with my wife.  It was really gratifying to hear so many people tell us how polite and smart our kids are.  And then, after that, we went out to dinner to celebrate a little.

I found out yesterday afternoon that I have been given the inaugural Excellence in Part-Time Faculty Teaching Award from the university where I teach.  I knew that I had been nominated, but I really didn't think that I stood a chance.  There are a lot of excellent contingent professors at the university.  Since it's the first time that the award is being given, I thought it would probably go to some contingent in the sciences.  Instead, it went to me.  A poet and writing teacher.

So, I had a few drinks last night because of that news.  It's going to be a very good Christmas because of the money that accompanies the award.

So, tonight, Saint Marty is thankful for unexpected blessings.