Amen.

The Small Town A.M.E. Church, about a block from the Happy Kitten Cottage, is holding an outdoor revival this week, complete with several different gospel groups. They've got the amps all the way up, and I'm loving it. (If you've never been to a black church revival or Homecoming celebration, GO. By all means, go. Doesn't matter what color your skin is—you'll be kindly welcomed.)

I sat on the front porch this evening and watched the sunset, the scent of newly-blooming honeysuckle and Confederate jasmine filling the air. The purple and yellow irises in my neighbor's yard positively glowed in the deepening twilight as I listed to the preacher's words. (I've tried to reproduce his cadences and phrasing.)

One thing that hurts me 'bout this modern 21st-century society is this attachment to material thangs! No Cadillac in the driveway, no diamond ring on yo finger, is goin' to save you. I don't CARE what the TV people tell you, with their fancy caaars and designer clooothes...

...We're missin' somethin' in today's society—and that is respect for our strong black sisters! The black woman was not meant to be trodden upon, NO! No black woman was made to be put down, looked down upon! Whenever one of our strong black women is insulted, we are ALL insulted!

Religion cannot save you. [crowd falls silent] You heard me right: Religion. Cannot. Save you. Goin' to church—cannot save you. Teachin Sunday School—cannot save you. I say it again: Religion. Cannot. Save you. Religion—can't make yo daughter love Christ. Religion—can't save yo son outta jail. Religion—can't help you battle yo personal demons. Baptism in the holy living waters of Christ's word? THAT is what can save you. Your FAITH in Christ Jesus? THAT is what can save you.

I'm not much for organized religion, but I wanted to shake, roll, and shimmy with the Spirit as I heard the preacher speak.

Ask Mom™

A bad, bad blogger am I—no Ask Mom™ in many weeks. But I'm rectifying the situation right now. This week we have three real questions asked by three real E&P readers, answered by my real Mom.

Remember, folks: Mom welcomes any and all questions. You can leave them in the Comments box or e-mail me through my Blogger profile. Mom will get to them as quickly as she can, and they'll be answered in a future Ask Mom™ post. Ready? Here we go!


**********

Hi there,
I have two male cats and two zillion books. I can't seem to keep the former off the shelves for the latter. My husband is fond of the 'scruff and toss' method but I'm wondering if there is a less violent way to break them of this habit.
cheers,
Whit
Have you tried a BB gun? Cats too big for that? Howitzer then? Actually, double stick tape works best. Seriously. Cut some cardboard the size of the shelf and put several pieces of double-stick tape on it. Breaks up the practice even when you aren't there with the Atomic Super Soaker or the BB gun. Oh, I forgot—thumb-tack down the cardboard. Scruff and toss is only effective when you are in the room. And it makes them scared of you. Makes it harder to get your hands on 'em when it's time to go to the vet.

What's the worst trouble your two girls got into?
Xtine
Do you count the times I've been called for hang-over remedies? Probably not. Let's see. Kitty and her cousin washed our station wagon's tail gate with Windex and a roll of paper towel. My sister (cousin's mother) almost had a stroke. I thought it was funny and a good use of their time. We were getting the youngest (Pixie) ready for a day in town. The 2 older girls had to do SOMETHING, eh? Better than getting dirty, playing in traffic, picking their noses, etc.

Pixie smarted off to me shortly after their father and I divorced. I swatted her butt to get her attention, told her she'd better loose the attitude, and put her in my tiny bathroom with her nose in the corner for a few minutes. She cried a little and came out contrite and watery eyed. "I won't do it again Mommy" I don't know if any of you know Pixie or what she looks like but lets just say you can't stay mad at her with her little heart shaped face and huge dark hazel eyes. "Good morning Mommeeeee..."

I don't know if you can count the time Kitty had the flu and threw up on Pixie when she was only a few months old... or the time Pixie paid her back for that by trying to take her head off with a lap board... Kitty still has a scar from that over one eyebrow. I don't think I should continue. You guys will think they were bad kids. They weren't and still aren't. 'Cept for chikins... and kittehs... and expensive fabric.... At least it ain't drugs or sex... Wait. There's the ear cleaner incident. And the Colonel..... um....

Ask your mom if she's ever made tapas. On a hibachi. In a fancy-schmancy modern art gallery displaying computers-as-contemporary-art. (I had a dream a couple-three weeks ago in which she was doing just that! And it justified a $400 admission fee to the exhibition!)
--St. Blogwen
Made What Where? What the hell you smokin, Honey?! Tapas. Is that the animal that lives in South America? Kind of like a pig with a long snout? No. Wouldn't happen on a hibachi. El Seebeno won't let me anywhere near an open flame. Vampires burn easily... oh wait did I just say that? Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain or the preceding sentance. I was never here...

What is THIS?!?

Don't worry—their feathers will soon grow back. And as always, it'll all be chronicled here on E&P.

Let the FAIL begin!

There are 11 days left in Division II University's semester, and already I can sense which students are going to pull a big fat FAIL here at term's end. This is both funny and disheartening—it used to be just disheartening, but I'm learning to let go of that worry. You can lead the kids to knowledge, but you can't make 'em think.

Half of this week and all of the next finds me in my office, getting work done while students come by for conferences about their research papers. That this research paper is a required component of passing Comp II is a university policy; it's also been on the syllabus since January 12, the first day of class. From the way some students are acting, though, you'd think that I announced it just yesterday.

Happily, some of my students have come up with awesome research topics:

• A comparison of how Langston Hughes and Boyz 2 Men write about mother figures
• Making further connections between the Rosenberg Trial and Angels in America
• The significance of women's hair in Anne of Green Gables
• An examination of Hemingway's homophobia in three of his short stories
• Tracing the similarities between murderers in three Edgar Allan Poe stories and the FBI's studies of serial killers
• Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood—and other parts of the Judeo-Christian creation stories
• And quite a few other great topics.
  

These students are on the ball. But the other 60 or so? FAIL-o-rama!

kthx!

This really is how I feel. The finish line of the end of the semester isn't far off—thank heavens!

How is YOUR end of semester going?

E&P will return after these messages

The end of the semester is nearly upon us, and I'm bone-tired. However, once I've recovered from all the stuff going on, I'll be back to posting regularly. Bear with me for a few days here.

From Columbus, Georgia: The Possum, live on stage

George Jones in concert last night in Columbus, Georgia. I was in the 8th row, and delighted to see a legend sing some of country music's greatest songs of all time.

Because we all need a break from taxes. And grading.

Uh-oh.

Joy and Smokey lie butts-together on the bed. This cannot end well.

On the phone with the Colonel

ME: So I think the bed around the mailbox is a loss.
COL: How come?
ME: Mom and Steve built it just three years ago, and now it's all full of roots.
COL: Roots?
ME: Yeah, oak roots. The oak trees around it just poof! sent up all these little fibrous roots into the flower bed.
COL: Mmm, I dunno.
ME: No?
COL: No, those are probably from what you had planted in there before.
ME: Oh.
COL: Well, I'll look at it when I'm up there tomorrow.
ME: I hope you're right. I had all kinds of big plans for that bed, make the mailbox look fantastic.
COL: Mm-hmm?
ME: I even went and ordered this fancy clematis—
COL: Clematis?
ME: Yeah, for the bed. I got a clematis.
COL: Clematis. A round of penicillin would clear that right up.

Student Essay Insanity #59!

Once again, these are from the Georgia Regents' Exam's essay portion. I don't have many bloopers in this S.E.I., but that's because these are longer than usual—entire paragraphs of essays. And before you ask: these people may or may not be native English speakers. Honestly, it was hard to tell from what they'd written. Real students, real essays, real(ly) bad. I shit you not.

And as one student pointed out in his/her Regents' essay: "We are a nation of consommers." Vive la cuisine francaise!

**********

For what reasons would you feel justified calling a person successful? Why?
The term success could define in many way as to where we look at it. Most of times, people defines success as to how much money or properties a person have or what the person have going on in terms of achievment. What has the person done. Other societies, they describes a success as to how many wives or children a man have or untitled to. In my way of justified in calling an individual successful is to be well educated, family oriented and have something going on in their lifes in terms of job and occupation.

It often takes people as long to heal from emotional wounds as from physical ones. What steps can people take to recover from emotional trauma? Discuss.
Emotional trauma can be a wide range of acts that happen to someone that affect that person's emotional state of mind. In order to effectively treat emotional trauma, the person that was affacted by the traumatic event must be willingly to discuss it.

Should beauty pageants for children be hanned? Why or why not?
Children should enjoy their youth while they're young.

What is good about American schools? Discuss.
American schools prepare you for the world.
[crickets]

Other than preparation for a job, what is the value of a college education? Discuss.
College can be used as a scapegoat to get away from horrific events that may have happened in your life.
Like having to read this essay.

Yet another Myrtle Mae Monday hosted by WAD!

My crazy architect sister has come up with another splendid set of new chicken coops for the HKC. Stop by Why Architects Drink and see the crazy new designs—I'll need to decide on one soon if I want to get new chickens this summer!

Happy Easter!

Hope all of you celebrating Easter are having a wonderful holiday today. The HKC kittehs would be having a nice Easter Sunday, were their Mama not trying to get them to wear bunny ears.









I'm feeling a little better today, but not 100%. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

Just in time for Easter

I awoke at 5:30 this morning very, very sick with what must be a stomach flu-bug. Anyhow, I'll be back to posting very soon.

Where I want to be

Thunderstorms are slowly rolling into west Georgia this morning, and driving to work I noticed the gray velvet clouds moving swiftly over the trees. Spring greens are starting to appear on branches as spring gets fully underway—before long, it'll be ungodly hot every day—and the early-spring flowers are wrapping up their glorious displays.

The dogwood trees' leaves are pushing their way out as the gorgeous creamy-white bracts start to brown and blow off the trees in advance of the coming storms. The grape-soda scent of wisteria fades into memory as those vines green up; soon, the pine trees on which they're draped won't even be noticeable under that rich green coat. The azaleas are still in their full-bloom glory—I smell them in so many places, from my front yard, to the D2U campus, to my evening walk around Small Town.

The very earliest of the irises are also beginning to poke their stalks toward the sky; their swordlike leaves mark where they've been hiding all winter. White ones peek out from the green, wet ditches along the country road I take to work every morning. Their presence marks where an old homeplace once stood. In my mind's eye, farmwives of years ago carefully tend to these irises, which have been transplanted and passed along from generation to generation. Later in the season, purples, light blues, butter and chrome yellows, and even a few shy pinks, will appear atop iris stalks in a multitude of yards and ditches. Even the occasional black iris, a deep-deep red so dark it reads as black, will pop up and let us see its beauty.

The wind blows the irises back and forth in the wind, and the tops of pines and oaks sway as the sprinkles of rain begin. The air smells of freshness, of nature, of the way things have always been—and always will be—outside humanity's realm.

I could not be any happier to be alive than I am right now.

If that's all you came here to do, then GO THE HELL HOME.

I have just watched the dumbest music video ever, passed on to me by one of my better students. And it leaves me with a lot of questions, some of which I hope you can help me answer after you see the video for yourselves.

• What does the phrase "intellectual curiosity" mean to you?
• Where do you think students get their "13th grade" mentality when they go off to college?
• How much did you party in college? Do you regret doing so?
  
• What one thing would you want to tell incoming first-year college students—in 100 words or less?

I'm hoping to put together a project for my fall freshman students, something that will perhaps dispel this dumb-shit attitude about college, about learning, and about the life of the mind. I welcome your answers and comments.

And by the way: I've partied more since I got out of college than I ever did while I was in college. [grin]

Wednesday kittehs, redux

Student Essay Insanity #58!

from Engrish Funny

It's that time of the semester: Regents' Exam rating time. And you know what that means! More unbelievably crappy/sad/hilarious essay bloopers!

As usual, folks, these are actually from the Regents' Exam. The essay prompt is in bold type, the blooper itself is in plain type, and any snarky comments from me are in italics. Truth is stranger than fiction, as the saying goes—these excerpts are too bad for me to have made them up. Real students, real essays...real(ly) bad. I shit you not.

Ready? Here we go!

**********

If you had the power to do one thing to change the world, what would it be? Explain.
If I had the power to do one thing to improve the world, I would help the environment. The earth is destroying every moment.

Why are people often unwilling to intervene in or report crimes that they observe? Explain.
Imagine yourself in a situation in which a woman is being rapped by a guy. What would you do?
I'd call Run-DMC.

Why do Americans eat so much junk food? Discuss.
First, most of Americans alway go for cheap.

Which of your talents do you value most? Why?
My talent that I value the most is driving a car.
Only if you're Jeff Gordon, honey.

Myrtle Mae Monday: 4/6/09

This is all I have to give you for this Myrtle Mae Monday—a rehash of the (in)famous french fry video. Even though I've posted it a couple times already, I bring it back again just because it's so freaking funny. My students howled at the part where Myrtle ruffles up at and pecks poor Martha Ann (aka Squirrel).

Next week: more insane chicken-coop drawings from my sister. Stay tuned!

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO STRIPE'S KITTEHS!!!

Can you believe it's been an entire year since Stripe gave birth to her little kittehs? Neither can I! Here's the original post chronicling their birth; you can find the additional posts under the KittehWatch label.

A conversation with Mom

[walking through the pasture next door to Mom's house]

MOM: So how's the book coming? Have you been working on it?
ME: Yeah, some.
MOM: You need to be working on it, you know.
ME: [sighing] Yeah, I know. A little at a time. I'm having a lot of trouble.
MOM: Yeah?
ME: Having to change everything around. The narrator's coming home because she lost her job is just too mundane. Maybe it's family that brings her home.
MOM: Family?
ME: Yeah, like her mom's sick, and she leaves her university job to come home.
MOM: Maybe she goes on sabbatical to take care of her mom, and writes a book?
ME: Yeah, that's a good idea, something like that.
MOM: What else?
ME: Well. [long pause] Mom, I want you to know: the mom in the book is based on you, but is not you.
MOM: Okaaaayyy...
ME: I mean, you're more interesting than most moms I could make up. I thought you just needed to know that. She's based on you, but is not you.
MOM: Mmmmm.
ME: [another long pause] The mom dies at the end.
MOM: Oh, thanks! Thanks a whole fucking lot!

When it rains...

...you know the rest of the old saying.

Small Town is waterlogged, and that really is a good thing. After three years of record drought, everyone is glad to see steady rain, heavy showers, thunderstorms, and creeks overflowing their banks.


The azaleas in my yard are actually pretty happy.


The yard is a soggy mess, though.


At least it bodes well for the flowers I'll be planting in a couple weeks.

Even more Joy

Conference trip, fun trip.

No tricks on E&P this April Fools' Day—just some glorious photos.

My conference on March 21 was hosted by Other Division II University, the Colonel's alma mater, in Tennessee. Since he knew where he was going, I accepted his offer to drive me up there and chauffeur me around for the weekend.

My presentation was a success, and we drove home Sunday tired but in a good mood. We stopped at Fall Creek Falls State Park north of Chattanooga for a hike, and saw these gorgeous waterfalls.