Most of this morning was spent preparing the bathroom for another round of plastering and sanding, which involved spreading plastic and clearing EVERYTHING moveable out of there. Once that was done we spent about an hour sanding and putting new coats of plaster on -- then about 2 hours cleaning up the mess we had made and getting the bathroom into useable shape again.
Which is important, as we're having company for dinner.
All that plastering and sanding, though, should make me philosophical about something. Not sure what. My life, I guess, but I prefer not to think about it.
Instead, I'm planning what to cook for dinner and enjoying that. As well as the thought of next week being finals week, and the week after -- let's just say, I won't be in the office!
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Why a Bad Ass?
It occurs to me that some readers may not understand the title of this Blog: "Adventures of a Bad Ass." To avoid the impression that I actually believe I am a bad ass, I will tell the story of my trail name.
In 2001, I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail and collected data for my dissertation at the same time (and yes, I've only got one damn article published from it!). I had taken the trail name "Turtle" as a symbol of my desire to be persistent, to be connected to the earth, etc. Then, after about two months of hiking (400 some odd miles), I injured my piriformis -- a big muscle in my rear -- and had to leave the trail for a month and a half of physical therapy. Yes, on my rump. What made it so bad was that the piriformis muscle, because it was injured, banged away on my sciatic nerve, making it impossible for me to sit, stand, lie down, or simply BE without pain.
Just before my completely self-sacrificing, wonderful, and ever-lovin' spouse showed up in Damascus, Virginia, to collect my sad self and take me to a hospital where I could get good drugs and some rest, a couple of hiking friends (Chris and Triple Slim) stopped by the drug store, bought a little stuffed donkey, and brought it to me in a paper bag. They said, "Your trail name used to be Turtle. Now it's (drum roll, please) Bad Ass Turtle."
That donkey is now sitting on my desk, as a reminder for me to be who I truly am. Not just a bad ass, but Bad Ass Turtle.
In 2001, I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail and collected data for my dissertation at the same time (and yes, I've only got one damn article published from it!). I had taken the trail name "Turtle" as a symbol of my desire to be persistent, to be connected to the earth, etc. Then, after about two months of hiking (400 some odd miles), I injured my piriformis -- a big muscle in my rear -- and had to leave the trail for a month and a half of physical therapy. Yes, on my rump. What made it so bad was that the piriformis muscle, because it was injured, banged away on my sciatic nerve, making it impossible for me to sit, stand, lie down, or simply BE without pain.
Just before my completely self-sacrificing, wonderful, and ever-lovin' spouse showed up in Damascus, Virginia, to collect my sad self and take me to a hospital where I could get good drugs and some rest, a couple of hiking friends (Chris and Triple Slim) stopped by the drug store, bought a little stuffed donkey, and brought it to me in a paper bag. They said, "Your trail name used to be Turtle. Now it's (drum roll, please) Bad Ass Turtle."
That donkey is now sitting on my desk, as a reminder for me to be who I truly am. Not just a bad ass, but Bad Ass Turtle.
Wings
One day
I will sprout wings.
Small bumps will jump from my shoulder blade,
Itchy feathers one by one sweep my arms,
Bits of down float through the air.
Will my view
-- from above --
Affect my sight?
I will sprout wings.
Small bumps will jump from my shoulder blade,
Itchy feathers one by one sweep my arms,
Bits of down float through the air.
Will my view
-- from above --
Affect my sight?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
