Sunday, October 08, 2006
Sunday sundries
Hoo boy. Got a long way to go and a short time to get there, for a Sunday.
The crud that Dr. ER brought back with her from Florida last week finally found me yesterday, so I skipped church this morning to avoid spreading it to others. Not fun being sick.
Not fun missing church. It's like a combination waste disposal station and battery charger for this RV of Life, if you know what I mean and some of you do.
You leave a week's accumulation of overt humanness at the altar, and pick up new spiritual energy for the coming week. I'll try to make some quiet time today as an antidote against the creeping angsts, which often afflict me on empty Sundays.
On the other hand, this Sunday is anything but empty. Along the miles I must go before I sleep tonight are the following:
1. Touch up the paper I am presenting at a history conference next week.
2. Add a considerable section to the above, to answer reviewers' concerns. I spent 8 hours doing additional research yesteray; now I have to plug in the information and restate my thesis. No sweat. But it takes time.
3. Use one ear to listen to the Talladega race on TV, keeping said ear tuned for the inevitable Big One (big wreck). NASCAR, at dawn yesterday, decided to change the restrictor plates used at this race, to slow the cars down. There's a new surface at the Alabama track, and cars were bumping up against 200 mph in practice Friday. Much over 200 mph and the cars tend to like to go airborne. So, NASCAR tamped them all down a bit with reduced air flow. Earnhardt Jr., who almost *owns* the track, was livid -- not over the change, but because NASCAR did not give the drivers a chance for a dry-run. Everything else about the cars will have to be changed to accommodate the new restrictor plate. The drivers will have to change their set-ups on the fly, though, which will confound them and their teams but make things more interesting for the fans. Not that I pay much attention to racin' -- ahem.
4. Reduce the aforementioned history paper, which is 25 pages long, to a 10-minute talk. That'll take some doing. But hey, I have been a member of the working press for 24 years now, counting college, and I am not wedded to my words. We call a hard edit "killing babies," because so many people *are* married to their own words and find it so painful to edit oneself. Naaah. Back the truck up, somebody, the carcasses will stacked to the ceiling of this office before it's all said and done. (It occurs to me that non-working press types might be aghast at the expression "killing babies." Hey, we really *do* do twisted things like start office pools to guess earthquake death totals. You got to laugh to keep from crying sometimes. Gallows humor. Of course, journalists are rank amateurs at this compared to cops and war veterans.)
5. I HAVE GOT TO make flash cards and spend some time learning some of the words I am supposed to be learning in my Choctaw language class. Right now, off the top of my head, I can recall three words: Halito (hello). Ofi (dog). Chito (big). So, halito ofichito! ("Hey, big dog!")
7. Oh. Go to Kinkos and have 25 copies of my revamped paper printed to take to the conference.
8. Pay bills. Joy. Not.
9. Go buy some new britches. I will be gone from next Wednesday for a week-plus, and I don't own that many clothes!
10. Get over this cold.
Well, that limbered up my fingers. Wish me well!
--ER
The crud that Dr. ER brought back with her from Florida last week finally found me yesterday, so I skipped church this morning to avoid spreading it to others. Not fun being sick.
Not fun missing church. It's like a combination waste disposal station and battery charger for this RV of Life, if you know what I mean and some of you do.
You leave a week's accumulation of overt humanness at the altar, and pick up new spiritual energy for the coming week. I'll try to make some quiet time today as an antidote against the creeping angsts, which often afflict me on empty Sundays.
On the other hand, this Sunday is anything but empty. Along the miles I must go before I sleep tonight are the following:
1. Touch up the paper I am presenting at a history conference next week.
2. Add a considerable section to the above, to answer reviewers' concerns. I spent 8 hours doing additional research yesteray; now I have to plug in the information and restate my thesis. No sweat. But it takes time.
3. Use one ear to listen to the Talladega race on TV, keeping said ear tuned for the inevitable Big One (big wreck). NASCAR, at dawn yesterday, decided to change the restrictor plates used at this race, to slow the cars down. There's a new surface at the Alabama track, and cars were bumping up against 200 mph in practice Friday. Much over 200 mph and the cars tend to like to go airborne. So, NASCAR tamped them all down a bit with reduced air flow. Earnhardt Jr., who almost *owns* the track, was livid -- not over the change, but because NASCAR did not give the drivers a chance for a dry-run. Everything else about the cars will have to be changed to accommodate the new restrictor plate. The drivers will have to change their set-ups on the fly, though, which will confound them and their teams but make things more interesting for the fans. Not that I pay much attention to racin' -- ahem.
4. Reduce the aforementioned history paper, which is 25 pages long, to a 10-minute talk. That'll take some doing. But hey, I have been a member of the working press for 24 years now, counting college, and I am not wedded to my words. We call a hard edit "killing babies," because so many people *are* married to their own words and find it so painful to edit oneself. Naaah. Back the truck up, somebody, the carcasses will stacked to the ceiling of this office before it's all said and done. (It occurs to me that non-working press types might be aghast at the expression "killing babies." Hey, we really *do* do twisted things like start office pools to guess earthquake death totals. You got to laugh to keep from crying sometimes. Gallows humor. Of course, journalists are rank amateurs at this compared to cops and war veterans.)
5. I HAVE GOT TO make flash cards and spend some time learning some of the words I am supposed to be learning in my Choctaw language class. Right now, off the top of my head, I can recall three words: Halito (hello). Ofi (dog). Chito (big). So, halito ofichito! ("Hey, big dog!")
7. Oh. Go to Kinkos and have 25 copies of my revamped paper printed to take to the conference.
8. Pay bills. Joy. Not.
9. Go buy some new britches. I will be gone from next Wednesday for a week-plus, and I don't own that many clothes!
10. Get over this cold.
Well, that limbered up my fingers. Wish me well!
--ER
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Good luck! I've been doing some of that revising and pruning and stacking up of the carcasses myself, but not nearly to the extent that you are.
I also missed church this morning, and really wish I hadn't had to. I've got the stomach version of the bug. I was supposed to help run a bake sale at our Pumpkin Day activities but neither had the stamina for it nor the desire to sicken others.
I figure I did bridge the gap a little last week by attending church in Lubbock while I was on the road. It was interesting to be a stranger in a community. I also gave myself an extra point because it was a "praise and worship" service rather than a theologicially traditional service. Like. Nails. On. A. Chalkboard. (Apologies to all my brothers and sisters who have deep appreciation for such services. Not my cup of tea.)
I also missed church this morning, and really wish I hadn't had to. I've got the stomach version of the bug. I was supposed to help run a bake sale at our Pumpkin Day activities but neither had the stamina for it nor the desire to sicken others.
I figure I did bridge the gap a little last week by attending church in Lubbock while I was on the road. It was interesting to be a stranger in a community. I also gave myself an extra point because it was a "praise and worship" service rather than a theologicially traditional service. Like. Nails. On. A. Chalkboard. (Apologies to all my brothers and sisters who have deep appreciation for such services. Not my cup of tea.)
1. Done!
2. Done!
3. Junior just had to pit for a tire during green-flag racin' and went a lap down. Laps are nigh impossib;e to make up at Talladega. %*&$#!
7. Done!
Trixie, bugs 'n crud suck! Maybe I'll cause a stir, and help u8sher in the End Times, by poppin' in to my neighborhood Baptist church Wednesday night to make up for skipping this morning. ... Naaah.
Ya know, the Choctaw class always begins with a hymn and the Lord's Prayer -- in Choctaw -- and it always gives me a charge, knowing a bit about how the Presbyterians and Congregationalists, mostly, brought the Gospel to the Choctaws before they were moved west, then sent missionaries to Oklahoma to nurse it along. Maybe I'll let that count as church this week!
Back to the chore list ...
LOL! I just noticed I left out No. 6!
Warning: Journalist Doing Math!
2. Done!
3. Junior just had to pit for a tire during green-flag racin' and went a lap down. Laps are nigh impossib;e to make up at Talladega. %*&$#!
7. Done!
Trixie, bugs 'n crud suck! Maybe I'll cause a stir, and help u8sher in the End Times, by poppin' in to my neighborhood Baptist church Wednesday night to make up for skipping this morning. ... Naaah.
Ya know, the Choctaw class always begins with a hymn and the Lord's Prayer -- in Choctaw -- and it always gives me a charge, knowing a bit about how the Presbyterians and Congregationalists, mostly, brought the Gospel to the Choctaws before they were moved west, then sent missionaries to Oklahoma to nurse it along. Maybe I'll let that count as church this week!
Back to the chore list ...
LOL! I just noticed I left out No. 6!
Warning: Journalist Doing Math!
Update on 3: Brian Vickers is a jerk. So is Jimmy Johnson, but Vickers is a bigger one today. Never seen Earnhardt Jr. so disappointed.
(Last lap, Junior, havin' not only gotten his lap back is in the lead; Johnson, in second, and Vickers, in third, pull out to pass; Vickers taps Johnson's bumper; Johnson turns into Junior; both hit the infield dirt; Vickers wins. That's racin'.)
(Last lap, Junior, havin' not only gotten his lap back is in the lead; Johnson, in second, and Vickers, in third, pull out to pass; Vickers taps Johnson's bumper; Johnson turns into Junior; both hit the infield dirt; Vickers wins. That's racin'.)
Grrr. No. 5, 8, 9 and 10 on hold, it looks like.
No. 4 is well underway. The carcasses are almost up to the ceiling.
I've got it down to 19 pages of 20-point type, double-spaced. I don;'t think I can do that in 10 minutes, niot without rushing. ...
No. 4 is well underway. The carcasses are almost up to the ceiling.
I've got it down to 19 pages of 20-point type, double-spaced. I don;'t think I can do that in 10 minutes, niot without rushing. ...
Sheila, I popped in over there for the first time in a looooongggg time. It scalded my eyeballs so bad, I'll probably stay scarce fir another loonnnnggggg time.
I gave up on Mark when he coldly said that illegals coming across the border should be shot down like dogs, and when I called him on it, he repeated it. Whatever else he is, in blogdom he's NOT one of the good guys.
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I gave up on Mark when he coldly said that illegals coming across the border should be shot down like dogs, and when I called him on it, he repeated it. Whatever else he is, in blogdom he's NOT one of the good guys.
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