I just got an amazing phone call (at home of course--no longer have an office) from a guy I hired as a part time instructor a few years ago--at first he was ok, but started missing class, not turning in grades on time and couldn't be reached by phone, stood up students he promised to meet, graded unfairly, didn't return papers, didn't cover syllabus, etc., etc.

He wants to use my name as a reference.

I told him he could list my name but I would mention all of the above if anyone called me. And then he wanted to argue about why it wasn't so much, he wasn't so bad, etc.

I retired a year ago--even talking to him seemed like unpaid work. What universe does he live in?

::goes off grumbling::
mamculuna: (Default)
( Aug. 30th, 2004 10:41 am)
Gaston dumped on us yesterday and now Frances is taking aim. I haven't been to the beach since the 4th of July--tenants told us the house was OK except for some minor screen damage, but we are hopeful that we'll get a new roof--the old one's been there since Hugo. Family )

I watched Hidalgo last night--for Viggo and for the horses. Both beautiful, but more than a bit of cultural stereotyping in spite of Omar Sharif. I liked him a lot better in Monsieur Ibrahim, a truly charming but sad movie, with wonderful characters and great photography of Turkey or some look-alike.

I'm trying to decide whether to go to Hero now or wait for my husband to come back down here. I could do both! I think I'll see what happens about the beach--I'll wait unless I'm stuck here, in which case I'll go. But I'd better tell him so he doesn't go up there. He's also not big on fantasy so I didn't go to the most recent Harry Potter yet either--which has really taken restraint. So I can have a great escape this weekend if I don't get to the beach.


Modesty )
No:

heat
light
computer
DVD
CD player
cordless phone
oven
microwave
TV
clock
toaster
refrigerator
hairdryer

did I mention light and heat? )

This tiny incovenience makes me realize how spoiled rotten I am, and how much harder life is where this is permanent or happens regularly or lasts a long time. I imagine a woman like me in Baghdad, trying to read by candlelight, her fingers numb. Hope things get better for everyone everywhere, and soon.
mamculuna: (Default)
( Dec. 17th, 2003 07:22 pm)
Not a good day, although the Chinese visitors were a gift from heaven and yesterday was wonderful, talking to them (more on that later), and even the duck was OK.

But today was the day when all the bad things from the semester really came to a head, all the problems finding their way to my office, and even worse an hour long meeting with some people who were very unhappy about a decision I had made, and I knew I wouldn't change my mind but felt that I had to hear them out--at great length, and with a lot of forbearance on my side for what I perceived as a really self-centered view of the world. And then going to office parties held by people with whom my last interaction was an angry phone call on their part, again in my view not provoked by my actions (but who knows). Again forbearance. And in both cases not wanting forbearance to become hypocrisy, trying to be pleasant but not change where I stood. Not my idea of Christmas.

So to top it off I go to work out at the gym and the woman behind me keeps chatting. Of course there is only so much forbearance to go around, and she was last in line. So I sshhed her, and then spent the rest of the workout feeling selfish and egotistical (aside: this kind of interaction doesn't happen in yoga classes, at least not so far).

Be now not feeling good about anyone else or myself, grumpily stopping in the cold to put gas in the car. You know how there are just certain wires and roofs where pigeons congregate? Well, the cover over the gasoline pumps was one of those places. You may be imagining a final disaster--and a Paris pigeon did that to me once--but these were different. I was standing there watching the $$ mount up and grumping away, and heard a sort of rushing clatter. I looked up to see about fifty pigeons wheeling off the roof just overhead. It was just deep twilight and the sky was a wonderful deep indigo, and the pigeon's white and silver lit from below just glowed. And they kept circling and landing and rising again, until I finally got the message.



Dust of Snow (Robert Frost)

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
.

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