Next on "Associate Dean Drama Theatre"

You know, all I want is to be finished with this goddamn thing. Really. Sadly however, in the last couple of weeks, the "AD Drama" plot has thickened to a heretofore unseen level of festering, moldy, curdled and reeking cesspool. Turns out the new AD-free structure for dissertation committees is still under consideration and hasn't been voted on yet, so it hasn't been announced, meaning there's no time to drop the offending committee member via that method if I'm to be finished in time to graduate in July. Then, due to situations beyond my control, the job of finding someone else to work was going to fall in my lap, and even though the issues really don't have anything to do with me, I was supposed to do it without telling anyone the reasons why yet another personnel change is necessary for my project.

-Wait. What? Back up.

In our previous installment, Much Beloved and Brilliant Reader #2 refused to work with Dr. New AD. When asked who he would work with, he suggested Dr. FunnyName, so I sent him an email asking him to play (careful not to reveal anyone's malice), but he turned me down because he's too busy with his own students. I can respect that. That left me with either Dr. Chest-Starer (who creeps out all of the busty students, not just me) or Dr. TooSickToBeAvailable-Ever. Now Dr. TooSick was my first AD. I fired her because she was never available. Something always took precedence over any meeting we scheduled: knee surgery, bad hair day, hip surgery, just plain forgot, stomach bug, toe surgery, allergies, head cold, another hysterectomy - the list was endless, so I found someone I could work with who was healthy and available and interested not only in my research but in getting me finished. As mentioned before, that guy took another job with more money and fewer hassles. Can't blame him, really. Nevertheless, it's left me vulnerable to any number of potential train wrecks. I picked Dr. New AD because since he was the new guy I didn't think he'd been there long enough to make any enemies but that day was clearly "opposite day." Apparently the guy is like a pet raccoon: what he doesn't fuck up he shits on. I need Reader #2 for his neuropsychological expertise, Dr. New AD is expendable. -But how to get him kicked off the island?

So here I am, stuck in the middle of a fucked up situation that has nothing to do with me but I'm paying for it in time, money, energy and frustration. Yay - higher cortisol levels for me! My favorite! Of the two remaining choices, my dissertation chair prefers Dr. TooSick because she'll roll over and do whatever the chair wants (a definite plus) and so far Reader #2 hasn't responded to my email about his preference. Madame chair's going out of town so she leaves it up to me to find out what the proper steps are to make the personnel switch and get a new AD by myself with only the 2 left to pick from, and I'm not allowed to say why. Yeah. Thanks for the nod to my level of competence, but this bullshit game of musical dissertation committee personnel gives the impression that I'm the problem, not them.

So whatever did you do, drsharna?

Well kiddos, lemme tell you. There's a little-known minion within the adminisphere at my school called a Dissertation Coordinator. Her job is to make sure all the steps are followed so that dissertations get completed smoothly, properly and on time. She's also a huge student advocate, which I learned when it was necessary for me to fire my first dissertation chair. After careful analysis of the situation, I decided that my committee executed the mortal sin of unsportsmanlike behavior by putting me in the position they did and that ultimately it would not be in my best interest to cover for them. I called the Dissertation Coordinator and without blaming anyone, I told her everything. Since she's the official go-to person for committee personnel change, she can't help me if she doesn't know the whole story.

She informed me that Dr. ChestStarer is going on a month-long vacation pretty soon (...wonder what that's like?), so he's out, leaving me only with Dr. TooSick - if she'll agree to participate, that is. She then rattled my chair's cage, informed her of our conversation and told her to contact Dr. TooSick and explain the situation. I received an email from Madame Chair late last night stating that Dr. TooSick agreed to play but that she is not considering her as part of the "core committee." This means that all she has to do is sign off on the final document once the others reach agreement, and they've already decided that they're going to reach agreement. While in the grand scheme of things this is really great news, my excitement is diminished because of the fucking hassle it's become.

The proposal is due Sunday and I'm on track to have that in for committee review - no sweat. The problem is that the committee then has 30 days to review it then they all have to get together to approve it. There are a few other glitches, too. Instead of the June 1 completion date suggested by Reader #2, the final document must be submitted by the first or second week in May. Which means, provided they want no further revisions to the proposal, I'll have to write up the results and discussion sections in just a few days. No pressure or anything. Now before you hyperventilating and breaking out in sympathy shingles on my behalf, be aware that I have done a lot of work on the front-end of this process. The hospital and school Institutional Review Boards have both already approved my research and the data are archival, so they've already been collected. All I have to do is crunch the numbers, interpret them and report the results. Properly motivated, and considering that I am really good at making things happen on really short notice, I might be able to get it done after all. Wish me luck.

I just wish it weren't such a goddamn cluster fuck to get there.

tags technorati : dissertation, bitching

Where to begin?

Perhaps hell isn't the exact verbage to describe the dissertation process. It's more like an extremely protracted pregnancy and labor that no one who has not been similarly embroiled can comprehend. Like pregnancy and childbirth too, one takes on a new language that only those "in the club" understand. We discuss institutional review boards, statistical computations, "THE LITERATURE" and a little thing we affectionately refer to as "p." People who have been in doctoral study have their own dissertation horror stories that they are all too willing to share with the novitiate - not unlike veteran mothers' pregnancy and labor horror stories. I guess this blog is to share mine. Just be happy I'm not sharing gory pregnancy details, although I'm not sure which is worse.

I can't even talk about my research or the process because no one in my immediate world understand. No one in my family has ever gone this far in the education system so no one in my world has ever been "with dissertation." They don't understand that it is all-consuming - not unlike a newborn, and requires near constant tending. All they want to know is when I'll be finished. Funny. I recently submitted the first draft of my proposal to my chair and spent a good half hour explaining the remaining steps to my husband. Somehow he failed to grasp that the first draft of the proposal was not the end of the ordeal. A few days later I received a scholarship for the coming semester (don't quite know how that happened, but I am grateful), and his response was, "Another semester!?" (<-- italicize that.) Sigh.

Whoever had the bright idea of conducting a major piece of research by committee was clearly a sadist. As if getting 5 academics to agree on anything is even possible, much less probable (3,265,422,589 : 1 and falling). Jeez. My first associate dean (AD) had more health problems than anyone I've known on this side of the dirt. She was constantly on leave for surgery: gall bladder surgery, thyroid surgery, knee surgery, another hysterectomy, the list goes on & on. To top that off, during the rare times she was available, regardless of what dissertation concept idea I floated past her, her response was, "Well, that's clearly anecdotal..." Duh - the wheel was anecdotal at one time too, dumbass. Rumor has it she thinks anyone with a southern drawl is a dolt, regardless of their IQ scores. So, I switched to another AD who was available, committed to getting me graduated and understood that there is no "perfect" piece of research. We got along great as colleagues and friends but he recently took a much better job elsewhere. Can't blame him. The school automatically assigned me to the person who is in charge of the health psychology concentration. I don't like the guy. I don't think he is aware, but health psychology is not geriatric neuropsychology despite how he thinks it might fit under his umbrella. Besides that he has known issues with my second faculty reader (who is a neuropsychologist) and he's a flagrant chest-starer. I don't have time, money or patience for bullshit at this point, so I requested someone else. Sure, the new guy's specialization is in mass crisis (think 9-11 & Katrina - he was there) but at least he will be willing to learn something new and not try to force fit it into his paradigm.

My first dissertation committee chairperson had me chasing down a different rabbit hole every week in search of a viable topic. I felt like Alice in Fuckedupland. After a year of that, and a small fortune in association fees, book purchases and the like, I fired him out of sheer frustration. He didn't even realize I'd fired him until he hadn't heard from me in over 2 months. My new chair & I sat down together and formed a plan over gyros in an afternoon. It's all about picking a committee that is as focused on getting you PhinisheD as you are.

My mother's day present this year was to be able to take an extended leave from (read: quit) my job to focus on my dissertation. I had stayed on at my internship site after internship was over to do psychological assessments for Social Security. My husband had lost his job, so I was working to bring in extra money so we could stay afloat but the homework that acompanies such a job was consuming any time I had for anything else - including my dissertation. So he put his executive skills to work and figured out that I was spending more on tuition than I was making while not making any progress on my research. Even though he hadn't had a job in nearly a year & 1/2, he told me to quit my job and get finished already. Talk about a leap of faith. He landed another job about 6 weeks after my last day on the job. My teenage daughter remarked yesterday that I am much more relaxed & happy and don't seem near as tired as when I was working there.

Fast forward to a week ago. My chair blessed the first draft of my proposal with only one small clarification & told me to go ahead and take care of that & send it on to my new associate dean (who promptly told me to hurry up and wait because of the holidays & an upcoming major conference - I'm okay with that) and the statistics consultant (who was very thorough in her feedback and requested what I perceive as minimal revisions & clarifications). I submitted the paperwork to the hospital to conduct the research and they're putting me through the expedited review process since I want to use archival data. So it's more hurry up & wait. It's the holidays though so I'm okay with that. I'll think about it next week after I put the giant green pagan symbol & all the ornaments back in the attic.

I think I'll snuggle up on the sofa with my daughter, have some Earl Grey, watch a movie & just chill for the rest of the morning before I run the final holidayesque errands this afternoon. Come to think of it, that's the best idea I've had all day.

PS
Happy Global Orgasm Day!

Jill off for peace...

Flying By The Seat of My Pants

This whole thing would all be so much easier and more readily comprehensible if I'd ever actually written a dissertation before. Nevertheless, I consider myself fortunate to be highly skilled at flying by the seat of my pants. The last couple of days have been crazy (and believe me, I know crazy - in the Biblical sense). I had a phone conference with Her Majesty My Dissertation Chair (HMMDC) yesterday to iron out a few details before I submit my next revision. A lot has happened since the last time we spoke, including the holidays, my teaching an undergraduate psychology course, a major national session for my school (which I didn't attend, but she did) and the death of my mother in law, but despite all of those things I've still gotten a lot done. HMMDC was a little peeved that I haven't kept her abreast of what I've been up to, but if neither of us is available, up-to-the-minute communication is difficult at best. All that aside, she was pleased with what I've gotten accomplished and she appreciates that I am as self-directed as I am.

During our conversation, HMMDC brought up a couple of issues. First, she thinks my new associate dean (the old one got a much better offer elsewhere - can't blame him for taking it) is a twit who tries to make things overly complicated for his dissertating students just for the sake of complicating things. This is a ginormous problem for both the amazingly smart, fabulous and wonderful HMMDC and myself because that type of thinking runs completely counter to ours and is part of why I picked her. Given that situation, she suggested that since Dr. New AD likes to "make his mark" on the dissertations he works on (read: piss all over everything), that now would be the time for me to seek his assistance on something trivial that I don't really care if he changes. He's already made it rather clear that he doesn't like the title, the table of contents or the order of presentation of the content without specifying what exacly he wanted to see, so there are promising areas there. HMMDC suggested that maybe if I seek his guidance in one of those areas, it would placate him before we get too deep into the process. I made preparations to do that, namely, "What would you like the title to be?" and "In what order would you prefer the presentation?" but haven't executed the request - more on that in a bit (film at 11).

The other issue brought up by HMMDC is that my exposure to the very small neuropsychology community is limited, consisting of my supervisor from the hospital, my second faculty reader (much beloved and brilliant Reader #2), and the other neuropsych faculty guy at my school, so I have not clue one whom to ask to be my external reader, since it's supposed to be someone affiliated with neither the school nor myself so none of those guys qualify. HMMDC advised me to consult Reader #2, who is a prominent (and have I mentioned brilliant?) neuropsychologist, and in the meantime she'd check with the geriatric psych folks she knows and we'd probably have somebody in a couple of weeks. Love love, kiss kiss, talk to you in 2 weeks, we were done.

That is, until about two hours later. HMMDC called me in a bit of a lather to inform me that she and Reader #2 had just been on the phone and this is what they had decided in the interest of getting me graduated: First, since graduation this summer will be in the same major city where my 80-something grandparents and many other extended family members live and I would like to walk at that time, they are putting a cattle prod to my ass to get me there in time and I should just buckle my seatbelt, hang on and shut the fuck up because it's going to be a bumpy ride - but we'll get there. I love a good challenge and am thrilled to be a blip on someone's radar at this point so I'm okay with that. Done is good. Done. Is. Very. Fucking. Good.

First things first, Reader #2 (whom I adore and have only the best, most wonderful glowing and gushy nice things to say about not only because of his brilliance as a clinician but his unwavering comitment to student advocacy) absolutely, under no circumstances, will ever Ever EVER work on a dissertation committee with Dr. New AD again. Period. Not really a problem because interestingly enough, ADs will be rendered unnecessary for dissertation committees as of the end of this month so HMMDC is going to ask for a special dispensation from the grand poobah of the school to ask if we can just go ahead and drop him now and either put someone else in that position or leave it empty, depending upon how many people the school wants on the committee. My vote is for leaving it vacant, because trying to get 2 academics to agree is easier than trying to get 3 to agree, and HMMDC and Reader #2 are already in agreement. Realistically though, I won't hold my breath because it's guaranteed that nooooobody from the adminisphere is going to ask for my input on the subject. In the interest of minimizing complications though, either way is still good news. Surely we can find someone to play nice and get me out.

The next thing, from which I am still reeling, is that HMMDC and Reader #2 agreed that since I will be using an archival dataset and already have approval from the hospital Institutional Review Board (IRB) to use it for my study, that I should go ahead and fill out the IRB exemption paperwork for our school. As in RIGHT FUCKING NOW, do not pass go, do not collect $200, and get it to HMMDC by 10am Pacific time this morning because they meet today. No pressure or anything. --Don't even ask. Anybody who knows me for more than 2 minutes knows damn well I got it in. I ended class early this morning because my lecture notes weren't fully prepared after being up all night doing that, but by Gawd, I got that IRB bullshit turned in, and with time to spare. I even watched American Idol first (you knew I would).

It probably goes without saying that I was pretty much a zombie this morning in class but the kids were excited to be released from my dungeon a little early and I got to come home and take a much needed and well-deserved nap, so that's a big ol' bonus.

Naptime over, I was just settling down into some good juicy revisions when my cell phone rang. Guess who? You guessed it: My NeuroNerd Hero, Reader #2. He wanted to be sure I was aware of his refusal to work with Dr. New AD (whom I've only met once when I read his tarot cards last summer). I told much beloved Reader #2 that as far as I am concerned Dr. New AD is expendable, but that his expertise as "Dr. Uber NeuroGuy" is not and assured him that we'd figure something out one way or another. I'm flexible, especially if it is to my benefit. As of the end of this month it will be a moot point anyway.

Next things next, Reader #2 proceeded to tell me that I should hire a statistics consultant asap to help me figure out the math part. Not to DO it for me, mind you, but to tutor me through the process, since I'm not a math nerd and all (although I play one on TV). I told him about the recent policy change I'd been emailed from the adminisphere about not receiving ANY outside help in the dissertation process. He got downright pissed and told me to send him the link and he'd get it changed. After all, an external reader is outside, right? So where do we draw the line? He said that not allowing a statistics consultant was tantamount to leaving the dissertating student floundering on the beach. I told him that although I've flourished and made a name for myself, the feeling of being left floundering on the beach pretty much sums up the bulk of my experience with the program for the last 6 and a half years, so what else is new? Of course now I can't find the link to the information but I know that's what it said among listing the punishments for such offenses, including but not limited to the rack, shoving glass shards under the fingernails or being forced to slide down a 20-foot razor blade into a pool of rubbing alcohol. We agreed that we didn't have that conversation, but he advised me to do it anyway after consulting with HMMDC and thank the stats consultant for the tutorials in the "thanks" page of the final document.

He then asked me about the revisions the school-based research person wanted to see in the next iteration of my proposal. He agreed with her suggestions but wants me to send everything to him before I send it anywhere else, a decision supported heartily by HMMDC. I can do that but it's going to take a couple of days since I've kind of butchered (read: really fucked up) the original document in trying to get to the revisions the research person wants to see. It takes time to unfuckup stuff, you know?

Okay, all that said...the coolest part besides hopefully getting out this summer is that Reader #2 knows a lot of the "Big Names" in neuropsychology and is having dinner with one of the biggest next week. Turns out Dr. Big Name owes much beloved Reader #2 a huge favor for saving his ass recently. Guess who's dissertation Reader #2 is going to ask him to serve as external reader? You know it baby - that would be mine - the Dissertation from Hell.

Yeah baby, I got it like that - by the seat of my pants. Good thing that's how I roll.

Spoke Too Soon

You remember how yesterday I said I kept expecting to wake up and it wasn't true? Yeah, me too. Well, it wasn't. Turns out I totally misunderstood. What was approved was for my proposal to be sent to the entire committee. So that means that Her Majesty My Dissertation Chair and the AD, Dr. Toosick, approve. I got approval from Much Beloved and Brilliant Second Reader and the external, Dr. BigName today. Not a bad gig overall. Still the last holdout is the consulting faculty. Hold your breath and send much positive energy her way to blind her to my faulty methodology in compassion for a poor specimen of mathematicus retardii.

Okay, back to the kids.

PS
Coffee mugs make great camouflage for red wine... ;oD

tags technorati : dissertation, bitching, statistics,

Tha mo bhàta-foluaimein loma-làn easgannan

Yeah, so today's title means, "My hovercraft is full of eels," in Gaelic. Following the advice of my blog friend, the fabled ghostie hunter Romulus Crowe, I've decided to make my first trip to Europe a haunted tour of Scotland. Turns out Edinburgh is renowned as the most haunted city in the world. What fun! It will probably happen mid-to-late summer next year, but I'm going. Surprisingly, when I approached The Man about it, he said it sounded like fun, but getting him on the plane and away from his cattle & hay for 10 days may be another story. The Girl, on the other hand, is all over it, but then again she's always up for new experiences. There's still a lot of research for me to do before I land on an itinerary, but once I figure it all out and save a few ducats to pay for it, we're off. Today I even bought 4 travel guides that probably all say pretty much the same thing but that's okay, I'm going to Scotland! Any suggestions or advice is most welcome. Now if I can just find some kind of psychology conference to attend while I'm there so that I can write off part of the trip...

Oh yeah, I got so excited about travel planning that I almost forgot - my dissertation chair approved my last revision to be sent to the proofreader. Woohoo! That means I can start throwing dissertation-related crap (old articles, previous revisions, notes, graphs, statistical output, et cetera ad nauseum) away! The piles of loose paper in my office will be gone and it will look like an office again, not a heap of paperwork with burgundy walls. Life is guuuud.

Just When I Thought It Was Safe

Okay, so (Queso? I love queso!) yesterday I needed to go the cleaners, 20 miles away, and while The Girl & I were out I took her out to eat lunch at Logan's since it will be the last time she has an opportunity to go out to lunch for quite awhile, as school starts Monday. We dropped by a craft store to pick up some gold leaf flakes for a soap I'm making this morning to draw abundance & prosperity when I got an email from my dissertation chair. She wanted to know where my final revisions are, since it's been over a month & all. Gaaaah! I told her that even though the rain has stopped and realistically I'm no longer celebrating, we've had a steady parade of people through here but I'll get it to her with lipstick next week. Gaah...

On a more interesting note, check out the new ebay widget that shows off my soapy lovelies!

Some Days Are Barely Worth Chewing Through the Restraints

Just when you think things can't get much more fucked-up-ier, the Associate Dean drama takes on a new level of weirdness. Today I get an email from my chair informing me that since Dr. Pet Raccoon gave me a little bit of feedback on a draft of my proposal 3 months ago that he has to officially give his blessing and sign off on any switch in personnel. Oh, and it's up to me to make nice and tell him he's fired without actually telling him that the reason is nobody else likes him or wants to play with him. Greeeeeaaat.

Well hell. The last thing I want to do at this stage of the game is get in the middle of some professional pissing match. One of my lesser-known talents is the ability to tell someone to go to hell and actually make them look forward to the trip. So, dredging up all my best tactics from my previous career in sales, I put together a short but sweet (shut up, Slick, I can TOO be sweet) email stating that "due to unforeseen circumstances that have nothing to do with me or your brief comments several months ago," blah blah blah. I made damn sure to run it by my chair first though in case it came back to bite me in the ass. With her blessing I sent it on and waited. We all know how good I am at that.

In the interim, I get another email from my chair informing me that she'd just gotten an email from Dr. Chest-Starer who thinks that he's on my committee. 0_o Turns out that according to my "permanent record," he is. This weirdness turned out to be a good thing, because it confused the shit out of everyone. When I received the response from Dr. Pet Raccoon a couple of hours later, he graciously honored my polite request to discontinue on my committee and approve Dr. TooSick to continue in his stead. Why the fuck they have to make everything so goddamn complicated is beyond me. Maybe if they didn't do that, they would have nothing to do.

I guess it's like Granddad always said, "If you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with bullshit."

tags technorati : bitching, dissertation

Dayamn. Where You Been At?

Hi y'all. First, I want to thank everyone who was kind enough to take the time to email or comment to check on me, especially since I missed CCC Monday. No, I didn't meet some untimely demise, but a really really lot has been going on and I've either not had time or energy to get in and make a post, although I have been leaving a comment or two here and there on other people's blogs. I'm okay - quite well, actually - just way busy. Soooo I suppose an update is in order to cover the activities of the last couple of weeks. Settle in, this post is going to run a little long - even for me.

The Girl
We traveled down to the other side of Austin to Texas State University in San Marcos over Memorial Day weekend for the All-State Solo & Ensemble competition. The Girl made a second division on her memorized class I solo. She had a little bauble in the "easier" first movement, and never fully recovered from it. She played the second movement that she was so worried about the memorization almost flawlessly. She had a little stall in the third movement, but overall she did a great job. Then again, they say that a I at region is like a III at state so her II is flippin' awesome for a Freshman, really. She even got a little silver medal to put on her letter jacket - yeah, she lettered when she made All-Region symphonic band back in December. If I haven't mentioned it before, she's a phenomenal flute player. Better than I EVER was, and I was damn good, as in full-ride scholarship good.

I've been watching the situation with the boyfriend and it's not been meeting with my approval, especially since the Hickey Incident that I didn't blog about but has kept me from allowing The Girl to go over to his house again - ever - even with his parents at home, since clearly this type of behavior isn't unacceptable in their world. Recently some of his friends called her to tell her that even though he's been pushing for exclusivity with The Girl, he had sex with another girl at a party at their house, and that they had gotten into a physical altercation with him over it. Naturally, he denied it. To her credit, she told him "You know, whether you did it or didn't do it is irrelevant. I don't need the drama," and broke up with him. The friends called her a few days later to tell her they made it up so she took him back.

She and I went to his high school graduation last week and had an interesting and character-building experience. His family wanted us to sit with them. I was trying to not do that, but they were waiting for us near the entrance (grr). The dad was drunk off his ass, reeking of scotch and behaving inappropriately - big damn surprise. Now, this was the same high school I graduated from over 20 years ago and it was the White Trash Capital of Texas even then but oh. mah. gawd. There didn't appear to be any respect or decorum for the nature of the event. People were there in cutoff shorts, tank tops, flip flops, walking up and down the stairs, talking on their cell phones, screaming and yelling when their graduate's name was called so that the next name couldn't be heard. I couldn't hear any of the speeches over the din of the funkified white trash parade. It was not good and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I am rather proud of myself for having the self-restraint to not commandeer the microphone and loudly proclaim that the graduation was off and if they would all kindly return to their trailers, the world would be a better place.

The Girl got really upset with me earlier this week over him. I told her I realized he was the first boy who ever really liked her back, but asked her what she could possibly see in him. He doesn't have a job, doesn't have a car, doesn't follow through and is mooching off his best friend & his live-in girlfriend (who are barely scraping by with their high school diplomas and minimum wage jobs) since his dad kicked him out of the house (again). He's been "gonna" get a job since we've known him and hasn't made that happen. He was supposed to swear in to the Army several weeks ago and still hasn't done it, putting him in danger of being arrested, and us being arrested for harboring if he comes to our house. The government is really funny about making sure people who have signed contracts with them hold up their end of the deal, and he doesn't believe that they WILL come after him if he doesn't follow through. Call me neurotic, but I'm not willing to go to jail and lose everything I've worked for for the last 10 years over his skinny ass.

There are millions of guys out there who would love to have a smart, funny, pretty girlfriend like The Girl - guys who understand that a date is when the boy picks the girl up, takes her somewhere and pays for it...not the girl's mama driving over to pick him up in another town (and/or taking him back home), then bringing him back to her house where she has to cook the food that she bought and watch movies for which she paid. He told me once that he wants to be a good husband and father and I told him that in order to be those things, he has to be a good boyfriend first. So far he's not showing me the model of a good boyfriend. I told him that I'm tired of it, tired of her being so worked up over him when he has not proven himself worthy of such drama and that I'm not going to allow her to see him until he gets his act together. Basically I dared him to go out and be successful - then, we'll talk about whether he's acceptable boyfriend material. I've been fortunate to have other strong women like my mom, my best friend and an unsolicited waitress at the ready to reinforce my hard line of "No Scrubs." I don't think I'm being too harsh about this. We'll see if he actually leaves for boot camp July 9th like he's supposed to. I have a sneaking suspicion he'll find more excuses as to why he can't live up to his word.

Between taking her to class with me, shopping for party supplies & band camp gear and having friends over to swim nearly every day, I've been keeping The Girl inordinately busy. She'll be at band camp 150 miles away all next week. Then she'll be too busy helping prepare for 3 parties in just over 3 weeks to even think about boys. Well, except for one of her best girlfriends - Jason, which is a story for another day.

The Home Front
Mother's Day found me with a brand new gas grill that I'm still trying to adjust to the subtleties of proper flame adjustment but I'm getting there (as seen in the above pic of the eastern half of our magic pahhhtio). See, our family is a little back-asswards. Usually it's the dad who does the grilling. Around here, it's me. The Man smokes a To. Die. For. brisket on the 4th of July, but overcooks my steaks, so I don't let him near my grill. The Girl and I like 'em bleeding and twitching and he has never grasped the concept of putting ours on several minutes after his. Besides, with his work schedule he barely has time or energy to eat, much less cook.

Since The Man's daughter and her family moved to a house nearby, we've been spending a lot more time with them. The Man's first wife and her husband have also been spending a lot of time there. It's a little odd to hang out with the first wife but I like her and I guess since it's been over 20 years since they divorced and they have both moved on, it's kind of a good thing. They are planning to come for the 4th.

Speaking of, my house is party central this summer and we have loads of reasons to celebrate. We are hosting 3 parties in the next few weeks. First will be The Man's birthday gathering on the 16th. I'm going to keep it simple and low-key for about 20 guests. I'll be grilling steaks over the fire pit and serving them with salad, baked potatoes and some kind of bread. Instead of birthday cake though, I'm going to make his favorite dessert - coconut meringue pie. The following weekend, Suz, my best friend since age 3 is getting married here. She's hired a kick ass blues band for the party afterwards and has already made arrangements for a couple of kegs and the margarita machine. Cool thing about that is that we know the margarita machine guy - I dated him briefly in high school, we've done business with him for years, and Suz's beloved graduated with his wife and they were really good friends. They'll be here for the party and depending on how much margarita machine business he has between the wedding and the 4th of July, he may just leave the machine here since he'll have to bring it back anyway ;oD. We won't be able to leave the house! My liver is screaming, already... Party number 3 is our legendary annual 4th of July bash, which we will be having on the 4th this year because of The Man's work schedule and our July travel schedule will make having it on either of the surrounding weekends a problem.

The Man
Speaking of The Man, we had a bit of a spat Friday night. Instead of screaming and crying or pouting about the situation, as women are wont to do, I gave him a very sweet Hallmark card, wrote him a heartfelt letter encouraging him to leave his place of employment and gave him the "Get Out of Jail Free" card from the Monopoly game Saturday when he got home from work. I can hear the brakes squealing, now... "WHAT!? You aren't working but you want the breadwinner of the family to quit his job!?" In a word, yes. You see, we were never better as a couple than the year and a half he was unemployed. He was happy farming his hay and cattle and doing a little consulting work on the side. He had energy left over at the end of the day to be "present" with his family and friends - not just taking up space or squeezing them in when he had a minute. He was a better husband, dad, friend, brother...he was just better and we all miss that Man terribly.

The job has literally sucked the life out of him. He leaves for work at 5:30 in the morning and doesn't get home until after 7 in the evening most nights and he has to work every other Saturday - in a place where the company culture is steeped in negativity and crazy-making bullshit. When he gets home he barely has the energy to eat dinner, then he passes out on the sofa in front of the TV and I have to wake him up when I go to bed - and it takes several attempts to rouse him. I've tried to be patient, loving and understanding, but it has taken a toll on our nearly 14-year relationship and has essentially killed our sex life (<--decidedly not good). Unfortunately that was pretty much the first thing to go.

Sure, the money was a little tight but we made it work and considering that we didn't have all the extra expenses like the gas from driving 90 miles a day, $200 a month in dry cleaning, all of the business lunches he pays for, and his work clothes, which includes custom made shirts (our sales rep Ann Atkins is fabulous, by the way), $200 shoes, $40 a pop for ties - on sale...the list goes on...maybe when you factor all that in, the job isn't worth the money.

I want my husband back. Our friends and family want him back, too. We made it before, we can sooo do it again. Besides, I'll be going back to work again soon so that will generate some income aside from what he can draw from the interest in his retirement fund. I saw him slide that little yellow card into his shirt pocket this morning. Keep sending that positive energy his way.

The Dissertation
Okay, so (Queso!? I LOVE queso!) I turned in my dissertation May 22nd, fully expecting to get slammed with another round of revisions. Didn't happen. Wednesday, June 6, I got the "officially official" official notification that I get to defend my dissertation July 19th and graduate July 21. No shit. Cool thing about my program is that they don't let you defend until the dissertation is at a point where they know you cannot fail. I received a few very minor edits from beloved second faculty reader a couple of days ago and talked to him on the phone about them last night. I was seriously prepared for a lot of shit to be thrown at me but he just wants me to expand my discussion section a little and add something about the Yerkes-Dodson Law. Then, once Her Majesty My Dissertation Chair is happy with it, he's happy with it. Of course, she said once he's happy with it, she's happy with it. So if everybody else is happy, I'm happy. Then I have to put together about a 45-minute Keynote (sort of like PowerPoint but way better) presentation about it for July and if there are any more minor edits, I can do them after graduation. Even though I've made all the appropriate travel plans and reservations, addressed the invitations and have ordered the academic regalia and signet ring, (although mine will be antiqued yellow gold with my school seal on top, PhD on one side & 2007 on the other) it doesn't seem real. There will be much partying going on that week, too, it just won't be at my house, but more on that later.

Shit. Now I have to start actively looking for a job. If you know of anyone looking for an already-licensed neuropsychology postdoctoral fellow in the Dallas/Fort Worth or Waco areas, send 'em my way. They won't be disappointed.

I think that's everything for now. The pool's warm enough to get in...I think I'll go do that.

The First Week of the Rest of My Life, or Funny, You Don't LOOK Like a Doctor

Man, have I been busy! While I was waiting for permissions guy, I remembered that I never did complete "Neuropsychology 101," and thereby complete the neuropsychology concentration certificate program I was taking concurrent with the PhD. The visions in my head showed me, a few years down the road, applying to take the neuropsychology board exams so I can put ABPN behind the PhD and officially be able to call myself a neuropsychologist. The rejection letter read something like this: "Dear Schmuck, We've noticed that you have extensive advanced coursework in neuropsychology in addition to impressive clinical work in practicum, internship, postdoctoral fellowship and specialized clinical training, but you never took Neuro 101. Sorry, but you can't be in our club. Thanks but no thanks, Neurodudes." Considering that boards like that are always looking for reasons to not let people in, I didn't want to take that risk. Besides, I was instrumental in getting the neuropsychology concentration off the ground and was the first president of the neuropsychology student association, so what kind of model was I presenting to those who came after me? Soooo, I asked the much-beloved professor about what to do and he was still willing to allow me to phone in my work. I didn't realize it would take 2 hours, but it's finished. I even got an A.

I got tired of waiting for "permissions guy" (since I was only asking for permission as a professional courtesy as the work is in the public domain), and sent my dissertation to the printer for the final copies. I've done business with these people since The Girl was a baby, back before I had my personal shopping business. When Arlene called to tell me the copies were ready to pick up, I asked her how much I owed, and she told me that she only charged me 7 cents per sheet, as if she had run them on the copier, not on the printing press, using the heavy 25% cotton bond archival quality paper. When I got there, she added the official original signature pages and lovingly shrink-wrapped each copy. She even had a shipping label ready for me. When we taped up the box, she said she had something else she wanted to go over with me so we went inside and she pointed out the shredder - then promptly stuck my invoice into it and refused to allow me to pay because she and her husband are so proud of how far I've come.

(A proud Arlene with the final copies and the UMI forms.)

I went straight to the post office to mail that bad boy off and get it out of my hair fo'evah and couldn't stop smiling while I was in line. Surely I looked like some kind of lunatic, but I didn't care. The clerk asked me how much I wanted to insure it for and I asked her how one places a value on 7 years of your life. It cost $40 to ship via express mail, but it was worth it to know that it would be delivered no later than noon PST Monday December 3, thus marking the officially official final and terminal no shit, for real, honest to GAWD end to my status as a student. I don't know about y'all, but I felt the gravitational pull of the earth shift as the weight of that thing slipped from my shoulders.

Meanwhile, The Man was celebrating his last day in the workforce. His coworkers were having a happy hour for him after work so The Girl and I went to a new restaurant in the town where Suz & I grew up. As soon as I got a taste of that first margarita swirl, I knew she & hubby needed to join us. Then, they made some seriously awesome guacamole at the table and I was hooked. Now that The Girl is fully licensed to drive, I could have two margaritas because I didn't have to worry about driving home.

So Saturday, we traversed to a town about 100 miles away for All-Region Band tryouts - she on the bus, me in my car so I could escape & get lunch. I was recruited to be room monitor for the clarinet room and was thrilled beyond belief that I didn't have to judge flutes this year. I wasn't prepared for the ensuing boredom though. To keep myself entertained, I was making faces, chair dancing, checking email & playing Bejeweled on my iPhone - anything to stay awake. No, the kids couldn't see me - I was sitting behind them. Over in the flute room, it may come as no surprise that The Girl was kicking ass and taking names. She made 5th chair Symphonic band, which means that she gets to advance to All-Area auditions next month. All four girls ahead of her are seniors so look out next year. I am so proud of my Girl. She never ceases to amaze me.

Sunday found me beginning the purging process in my office. I began with the closet from hell, which really looks like an annex of Staples more than anything else. I took everything out

and put it in the middle of the room, which was already pretty crowded.
I've sifted through every piece of paper from 7 years in gradual school, the soap business and every other aspect of my life. In addition to the 3 bins I've already done and the 1 left for me to go, The Man is finally going through all of his mother's papers now that he has time. She was a professional patient so we have boxes of her "sensitive medical information" dating back to 1976 that need to be shredded. It's beginning to sound a lot like Enron around here with all the shredding.

Monday I met with a colleague of mine from school to discuss a business venture that ties her internship, my postdoc and our future private practice all up into one tidy package - with lovely ribbons and bows. More as things develop, but let's just say the prospect is very exciting and that I'll be living one of those, "I made ridiculous amounts money working part time from home doing what I love," infomercials. Later in the day, I found out that the final copies of my dissertation landed at the school about the time we began our meeting. The university officially can't ask me to do Another. Fucking. Thing. Ever.

Tuesday morning found me finishing up the paperwork for the provisional license. I was also doing more sifting and shredding of paper. Tuesday evening we went to The Grandtwins' Xmas pageant at school. The contemporary praise music feel of the thing really didn't do it for me. At. All. The kids were cute though and they were proud of their performance, which was, thankfully, short.

Wednesday Mom & I went furniture shopping - finally. We've only been trying to go since I painted the living room. We When I got home and told The Man what & where I'd found what I want and when we have an appointment to go see the salesperson, he asked, "Do I have to go? Just go get what you want." Which led to a rather heated conversation (on my end) about how it was my understanding that my job was just to go narrow it down to a couple of options then we would decide together and that if I had known he was just going to tell me to get whatever, I could have handled it right then and there instead of having to make 2 trips to a store that's 80 miles away. Needless to say, he will be joining me at 10am tomorrow to select from the finalists.

Yesterday, The Man & I went to the new office of the practice where I served my internship to pick up a little cabinet and the neatest little fold-out table that I used for testing. When it's folded up, it looks like a little cabinet, but it has a secret. It was the perfect table for the micro-space we had in that office. I don't think anyone has dusted either of them since I left, even though it looked as if everyone and their dog were using them. When I tried to slide out the little table though, one of the hinges was bent and the support wouldn't slide out. Pissed me off, but The Man helped me bend it back so that I can slide it out. I'm going to leave it out for awhile & maybe it will stick. If it doesn't I'll just replace the hinge later. Still, what the fuck is wrong with people that they tear stuff up then don't offer to fix or replace what they've damaged?

Today I'll finalize the shredding and sifting in my office, list that Treo on eBay and make some soap. It's nice to have less clutter in my space.

After all that, I have to start preparations for a midwinter party we're having next Saturday. There's plenty of cooking and baking and cleaning and shining of stuff to be done, but I've still not gotten over the feeling that there's no more academic writing to be done. How long does it take for that go to away?

That's all I know right now. Gotta scoot - there's more shredding yet to do.

Love,
Me, Ph.D.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

This is going to be a long post. We've got about 10 days' worth of adventure to cover so go ahead & visit that little room before you get started.
Friday, June 13, 2007

6:30 am. The Girl & I were packed up for our 9-day adventure and about to roll out the door when the phone rang. It was one of my band booster friends (one of about 2 that I can actually tolerate for any length of time) calling to tell me she & her husband had bought me a nice bottle of wine and she wanted to bring it to me so that we could have it on my graduation day. Of course we all know how much I hate presents - especially wine - so we hung out a couple of extra minutes to visit with her before safely tucking the wine in my suitcase. Little did I know that was to be the theme of the week.

We got to Mom's and got her stuff loaded but with an oxygen tank in the back seat, we really didn't have room for the cooler. We decided that it was okay though. We could always stop for drinks & munchies if we wanted to. The weather was beautiful, we had toonz and each other and we were not on a schedule. So we stopped at Sonic for breakfast before we even left the county ;o)

Later in the day, The Man called and said something like, "I know The Girl is in the car, so just answer yes or no." Then he proceeded to tell me about how our son in law thought he had found a car for her but he didn't want to get her hopes up in case it didn't pan out. The problem was that he wasn't giving me yes or no questions so I was having to tell him what I needed to tell him without giving it away. We decided that if it did turn out to be a good deal, we'd get it. He was even going to pay for half. (Okay, say AWWWW...) He called later to tell me our son in law, a Ford master technician, had checked it out and would have bought it for the grandtwins, so he was going to go ahead with it. More on that later.

Sooo, we finally made it to my great aunt's house. We attempted to follow her directions and ended up being taken 60 miles out of the way. There are basically 4 exits along the entire Kansas turnpike - the motto of which is "Welcome to Kansas - Just keep moving, then get the fuck out." If you miss your exit, that's just too gawddamn bad - you have to drive at least 30 miles to the next one, pay to exit, collect a new ticket then pay to exit at your real destination if you can find it. I knew better than to listen to the directions of a 75-year-old who rarely leaves her hometown. Thankfully I have a wonderful sense of direction and excellent map reading skills. We got there and had a great time hanging out with my cousin, great aunt and the 13 year old grandson she's raising. The kid is a very talented guitarist but can't play guitar hero to save his life. The Girl had fun with that. Oh yeah...and that wine? Didn't make it through the evening. It's okay though, you'll see that there's plenty more where that came from.

Oh yeah, the picture is from Pome on the Range, a big orchard where we pulled over & bought what else but apple wine!

Saturday, July 14

We traversed to Mom's best friend's place just outside the suburbs of KC. Of course, since I have been described as "a tailgate party waitin' to happen," if I'm around, the tequila must flow, right? They had this big ol' margarita machine that was like an oversized blender. You pour the tequila & margarita goodie over about a 5 pound bag of ice and turn it on then 10 minutes later you have (sort of) restaurant style margaritas. I thought a good blender would have been more efficient but the machine was cute and fun. We went to a Macaroni Grill with her very patient husband and 85-year-old mom and just about took over the place.

The picture is a sculpture we made from straws, a crayon and a stub of their lovely rosemary foccaccia bread that bears a strange resemblance to something that's bound to be obscene. We scared the shit out of the waiter, but then again we live for socially inappropriate behavior.

Sunday, June 15

We left Missouri to head back over the river to the KC, KS suburb where Grandma & Grandpa live. No sooner did we get there than Grandma wanted us to sit down and eat. Nevermind we had just stopped at Sonic for lunch less than an hour before. The aunts & uncles who were there to see us didn't eat so it was kind of weird but we didn't want to hurt Grandma's feelings so shove more down we did. These grandparents are Mom's ex-inlaws but with 40 years of water under the bridge, they all got along and had a lovely visit until my aunt & stressball uncle arrived from St. Jo to pick mom up. Later we drove around the nicer neighborhoods of KC looking at the fountains (BTW, it's legal to play in them in KC - which is reason enough to go there!) all of the old mansions and we went to the hotel where Mom, The Girl & I would be spending the rest of the week so we'd know how to get there and I could show them where to meet us Thursday night for my dissertation defense. I made sure to make up a playlist on my iPod just for Grandpa that included Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra et al. He loved it.

Grandpa had a head injury a couple of years ago and has some dementia as well, so it was interesting for me as a neuronerd to spend time with him. He naps a lot during the day but doesn't realize that's the reason why he can't sleep through the night, despite everyone telling him that's what's going on. Since I'm kind of an expert in the area of old folks, I told him the same thing everyone else has told him and even though he isn't going to change a damn thing because he's a stubborn old Italian, at least he heard what I said and accepted it as having some grain of truth. Maybe it wasn't my expert status but my good bedside manner and gentle handling of him that did the trick. Then again, being the favorite granddaughter doesn't hurt either.

Monday, July 16

Grandpa was damn determined that we were going to have Egg McMuffin from his local McDonald's for breakfast. I didn't bother to tell him I haven't done business with McDonalds or WalMart in years. He's old and he likes it so I graciously sucked it up for one day and pretended that was the loveliest fake cheese I'd ever consumed in my life. Gaaah.

We made up for it at lunch though. After Grandpa's morning nap, we toddled down the road to Quick's Bar-B-Q down on Merriam Lane. Everyone has their favorite KC BBQ, but there's a certain nostalgia there for me because I was raised on the sauce, which we had to import to Texas through various family members when they came to visit. Nothing like a big ol' plate of Quick's ribs and a coldbeer. Aaaaaahhh... I made sure to get a case of sauce while I was there, since I'm down to 3 bottles left from the trip Mom & I made there last summer.

The Girl & I made our way to the hotel and got checked in & settled. The Girl was asking about what to do next and where would we meet up with my friends from school when the seminars let out. She was excited to meet them but had some concern about whether we should try to call them or not and how would they know where to meet us. I told her not to worry - we'd grab a drink (mmmmerlot for me, cherry coke with extra cherries for her), grab a couple of tables in the lobby and relax a minute. I have a tendency to draw a crowd. She didn't believe it until people started drifting downstairs and before long we had about 15 people there gushing at her about how wonderful her mom is. Then MY Mom showed up and the gushing really began. Somebody could have gotten the bighead over all that adulation.

My friend J, who started the program at the same time I did, and who moved to Texas from Indiana because she couldn't get a practicum site anywhere in her state (Imagine! Turning down free help!), had planned to take me to dinner that night so we ate in one of the hotel restaurants. Mom, The Girl, and one of my neuronerd friends tagged along. Again, we kept ourselves amused by exhibiting socially questionable behavior. After dinner we went to the bar, and ran into even more of my friends. Let's just say I couldn't move without someone buying me a drink. Then the VFW Junior Vice Commanders from all 50 states & Puerto Rico showed up. Mom & I are both life members of the Ladies' Auxiliary. Those guys live to carouse, so from what I remember, we were in good company. We closed down the bar and poured ourselves into our Heavenly Beds. The beds at the Westin are out of this world.

Tuesday, July 17

I did nooooot want to get up. While I wasn't sick, I had a bit of a headache and just wanted to sleep. What I needed to do, however, was finish my Keynote Presentation for my dissertation defense, which was to take place in 2 more days. There's a mall attached to the Crown Center complex, so Mom & The Girl explored there while I slept and half-assed worked on my presentation. By the time they got there around 2, it was definitely time for me to eat, so we went to a burger place in the mall called Fritz's that serves the food via an interesting model train and hydraulics system. It was definitely a kid restaurant but fun, the food was pretty good and we enjoyed it. Then I went back to the room and worked on that presentation some more. Oh joy.

Later there was a welcome reception for everyone. More friends - more wine...(see, I told you there was a theme...) and a balloon/Heineken bottle sculpture, as pictured above. By this time, The Girl is starting to figure out that grad school may not be so bad after all. Mom, The Girl, my program advisor, another student & I then went to a lovely Japanese restaurant and proceeded to order one of just about everything. We loved the food, but the company was better.

Wednesday, July 18

First things first, I've been on the committee for a student-led scholarship auction for the last 5 years, so I held my last hurrah. Mom bought me an anatomically-correct caveman with interchangeable "clothing" and a Sigmund Freud action figure. He was hawked as "Therapy so easy a caveman can do it."

I had previously scheduled a lunch with my program advisor, but don't get to see her often so even though we'd had dinner the night before, we took her to Fritz's for the train-delivered burger. Her favorite part was the chocolate shake. Once we got back to the hotel, we ran into my chair and she wanted to go over the edits she wants to see in the next week or so. It's simple stuff, just expanding and explaining some areas a little better. No big deal.

Since The Man was going to join us around 7, around 3 I checked he & me into the adjoining room & so sis could take my bed when she got there.

One of the students I mentored when she entered the program had scheduled a dinner in my honor at Pierpont's restaurant (and ginormous wall o' booze) in the historic Union Station building at 8:30. The Man arrived at the hotel at 8:20 and the restaurant was going to stop serving at 9 so we had to book it across the skywalk to get there in time. There were about 20 people there, all gushing about how I had helped them or inspired them in some way during their time with me in school. By this time Mom & The Girl were getting used to it, but this was The Man's first exposure to people in my program en masse. so I think it was a little overwhelming for him, but he seemed pleased.

The day before we left, The Girl spent 6 & 1/2 hours raking grass which was almost long enough to bale, and hauling it to the back of the hayfield. The Man didn't pay her for it, as he would normally, but she didn't complain. While we were at Mom's best friend's house, I printed off the pictures he had emailed me of the car and stashed the paper in my purse. I gave it to him at the restaurant. He leaned over to her, handed her the paper and said, "Do you think this will do as payment for all that work you've done around the house this summer?" You should have seen her face. Of course everybody had to give him shit, "What? Dr.S is graduating but The Girl gets a new car?"

After the dinner, we waited in the lobby for my sister to arrive around midnight from Walla Walla with - you guessed it - more wine. A case of reallllly good stuff plus 4 more bottles in her suitcase, to be exact. Hate that. Sucks to be me.

Thursday, July 19

I don't know what the hell everybody else did all day, but I finished that fucking presentation, then felt nauseous until it was over. Okay, we had lunch at Milano, which is an excellent Italian place, and I don't usually eat Italian out because people fuck it up so badly. I don't eat most things at Macaroni Grill and won't even darken the door of an Olive Garden. Other than that though, it was all about polishing that Keynote presentation for me.

My other sister and her little boy came to the hotel and a cousin thankfully came to pick him up so he wouldn't have to be bored and get in trouble for trying to entertain himself during my talk. My dad, his new wife and my brother (who left his little boy at an uncle's house) came in from about 15 miles from my home. My father and his scary woman were also there. So there's mom, her ex in-laws and her first 2 husbands and their wives and all but one of my siblings, who had to go fight terrorism somewhere, all getting along like peas and carrots. It was weird. Good, but weird. Five minutes into my talk, I notice two of my very dearest neuronerd friends sitting there wiping tears from their eyes! I hadn't settled into my groove yet so it was necessary for me to stop and tell them to stop immediately or I would have to join them in their bawlfest and then we might never get out of there.

Once I finished the presentation, my associate dean led the questioning by asking me, aside from the results I got on my research, what was the thing I was most pleased about. I told her that I was just happy I didn't projectile vomit on her and the other members of my committee. I think the only thing that saved me was that I had the hotel bring in a long, skirted table under the guise of setting up my computer on it, but in reality I just wanted to be able to take off my shoes since it's murder to stand in heels for over an hour. My chair was pleased with my work and informed me that she had never seen a dissertation talk so well put together. Much beloved second faculty reader was very happy with the way I discussed the many shortcomings of the Folstein Mini Mental Status Exam (unfortunately the most often used "tool" discussed in geriatric research) for diagnosing dementia. He also told me that he had never seen a dissertation presentation so well attended. The room was set up with 40 chairs. They were all full.

Sometime early on in my talk, I noticed that Grandpa left and never came back. My aunt said to me after it was over that before he left he leaned over to her and whispered, "I gotta pee. This is the longest damned wedding I've ever seen." He then waited in the hotel lobby until it was over.

Afterwards, we all adjourned to a friend suite for a lovely wine (duh) and cheese reception. We got around the weird ass KC liquor laws by serving in a suite, where you can serve whatever you want, instead of the room where the defense was held, like the hotel wanted us to do. It was big fun, and after not having the guts to eat dinner, that was the bestest gawddamn cheese I ever ate. The wine though was outstanding. I'm so glad I didn't pay the hotel $45 a bottle for the K-J. My sister & I stayed up until 3:30 talking and solving all the problems of the world.

The picture here is of my last slide...the text and Devo's "Working in a Coal Mine" came in first, and each tool element came up at .1 second intervals in time with the opening strains of the song. It was cool.

Friday, July 20
With the dissertation defense out of the way, I could really relax. The Girl went with my sisters and our father to Worlds of Fun, which The Girl describes as kind of like Six Flags but lamer. Mom & I took The Man to Quick's then went back to the hotel for a nap, then we went to see Harry Potter. Yes, we're all fans - Mom even bought the book the day it came out.

Suz & her new husband and daughter came in right before the movie was over. My sisters went to our aunt's house to spend the night so the remaining 7 of us went to my favorite restaurant, Morton's, for dinner. The Man & I had our first "date" at the one in Nashville many moons ago and try to go to them if we're in a town that has one. We go to the one in Dallas sometimes too, but of all of them it tends to be the noisiest. Of course with the Social Skills family, none of whom had ever been to a restaurant much nicer than an Applebee's, in tow, the one in KC was probably a bit noisier than usual this time. They brought me a little bottle of champagne. It was cute. The best part of the meal though was the chocolate truffle cake and Douwe Egberts coffee. I have wet dreams about that stuff.

My camera takes pretty crappy pictures so I'm waiting for people to email them to me, although I don't think any were taken here.

Saturday, July 21, Graduation Day!
First thing was a champagne brunch for the graduates. The menu was visually appealing, kind of a higher-end version of Grandpa's egg McMuffin, but with a poached egg jiggling about on top of each side of the English muffin. Ewwwww - runny egg goo gives me the huzz, so I just ate the Canadian bacon, grilled asparagus & tomatoes and had an extra glass of champagne. The whole point of the brunch though was for the office of development to hit us up for alumni donations. Fuck that shit. Let me at least pay off my student loans. Jeez.

The Man & I walked around the mall for awhile and I remembered that it was the 7th anniversary of when our neice was killed in a helicopter crash while on vacation in Hawaii. She would have been 22 this December. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him if he had talked to his brother yet that day. We had some frozen custard while we watched the kids play in the fountains outside then went back to the room so he could talk to his brother. It was sad but in a way I think a necessary part of what he needed to do that day. They usually spend the weekends hanging out together doing cow & hay stuff so it was probably harder for them this year since they couldn't be around to distract one another from the gravity of the day. I decided around 4:30 to grab some dinner since it would be the only chance I'd have once the festivities got underway. The Man wasn't hungry because he was busy reliving his grief so I gave him some space and went anyway. Not to worry - I wasn't alone. My sisters & nephew, The Girl, & Suz's family tagged along.

I had to be downstairs at 6 for robing. Although I had the option of spending a mere $25 for the rental gown instead of the nearly grand I did for custom gear, I am so happy I bought my shit. The rental gowns looked as if they had been used for pajamas and they smelled like dirty feet. I looked sharp as hell in my black robe with the PhD blue velvet and matching blue velvet tam. I was the only one who didn't go for the rental robes but gawddammit I earned that PhD blue velvet so I wore it proudly even though I stuck out - no - make that stood out, in my typical grand style. I'll post pictures when I get them.

In the 10 minutes between the group photo and time to line up, the outgoing student body president & I decided we had just enough time to saunter down to the bar to do a shot. In our robes. Hell yeah. The bartender gave us "doctoral size" Lemon Drops that were about twice the amount typically served. My brother happened to be in the bar (big surprise) and even picked up our tab (even bigger surprise) as we slammed our glasses down on the bar to head back upstairs to do our thing. It really hit the spot, but I was wishing for some ice water or something after sitting on that stage for the next 2 hours.

We had an unusually large class of 15 this time but the Awfully Persnickety Association really wants PhDs to be finished in under 10 years, so the school is pushing those with longer tenures to get the hell out. Whether they graduate or quit is up to them. At our graduations, each graduate speaks - theoretically for 2-3 minutes, but these folks maundered ON and ON and ON and they were boring and sad and I kept thinking, "Isn't this supposed to be a celebration? What the fuck is wrong with these people? Stupid shrinks," et cetera. My last name is wayyyyyy down the alphabet so I had the honor of going last - and I felt a pressing responsibility to bring up the mood of the room (over half of which was there just to see me walk). Soooo, again in my usual grand style, I basically performed a 3-minute comedy routine. My antics (which included donning a big, fat sparkly tiara with my tam) had everyone laughing and smiling and ready for the wonderful party in the ballroom next door. If you're interested, I'll post it in a day or two.

The party afterwards was lovely, with a DJ, dancing, open bar, and the most beautiful dessert table you can imagine. We weren't finished celebrating after it was over at midnight, and we still weren't finished celebrating after we closed down the bar at 1am. The Man went upstairs but Mom, the Sisters & I hung out in the lobby with many friends until beyond the wee hours. My friend with the suite brought out a tray of homemade lasagne and more wine and we begged wine glasses from room service and found a corkscrew and someone else got a couple of bottles of champagne from room service.

When Sister #2 was leaving to go to the airport at 4:30, Mom, Sister #3 & I went upstairs (I'm the oldest, so I would be Sister #1). I knew The Man wanted to leave at 7am, so instead of going bed, I just showered and packed so we'd be ready to go when he was. I knew he'd want to drive so I planned to sleep on the way. It was the least I could do since he'd pretty much gone along with whatever I wanted to do since he'd been there.

Sunday, July 22

Once I navigated The Man out of KC, which, BTW, is the single most underrated city in the United States, I went to sleep and didn't wake up until we were in Emporia, about an hour & 1/2 away. Apparently The Man travels differently than we do. He likes to stop at McDonald's. I was already over my 10-year allotment of their food and was a little tired so I didn't have the energy to complain. I navigated him back onto the turnpike and didn't wake up again until it was time to get off of it and back onto I-35. Went back to sleep until Oklahoma City, where we stopped at - you guessed it - McDonald's again, then drifted in & out for the rest of the drive until we picked up his demo at the place where he works.

Honestly, I was a little worried that I might not be able to stay awake long enough to get Mom, The Girl & me back home but we made it just fine. When The Girl & I got here, her car was parked in the garage, all shiny & red. She thought she wanted a black Mustang but after driving this one she thinks she'll like it better because it's higher up where she can see better, and like me she's so incredibly tall.

Our delight was tempered when we got in the house though. Friday night while we were gone, our much beloved 11-year-old Labrador Retriever, Boomer, had been run over and killed by a car. The Man called our son in law to help him retrieve the dog from the ditch & bury him at the back of the hayfield with our other pets who've crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to wait for us. I miss that dog and can barely look at the pool without expecting to see him in it. My little red dog Sam is just whining and grieving over him.

So there you have it sports fans. The full report. I'll post pics as I get them in.

We ain't got none o' them tecknalogickabul advantsmints, y'all.

Okay, so Thursday the humanities department chair at the local community college called and asked me to teach a general psych course. Dumbass here agreed, having wanted to do one for some time just for the experience. Friday afternoon around 3, for the sake of convenience, I met him at my local post office to get the textbook, which is an information overload if I've ever seen one. I took a full course - sometimes two or three - over what is covered in each chapter. There is no way in hell anyone can learn all of that in one semester so we're just going to cover the high points. Sometimes too much is just too much.

During the ice storms of the last few days, I've been working feverishly trying to get everything set up because what little I was given seemed woefully inadequate. The official syllabus mainly just addresses plagiarism and the official bibliography didn't have anything on it that had been published within the last 12 years (raise your hand if you can pronounce unethical...). The class scheduling was particularly bothersome because we'll have 2 fewer class periods to address the 14 chapters of textbook material because our final is first in the lineup, and we're supposed to have a "major project" in there somewhere. Did I pay attention to any of those red flags? Hell no I didn't. I was just excited to be offered yet another distraction from that stupid dissertation thingy. I needed another one - no, really - I did. Seriously.

So I get all this crap (including making a blog for class communication since as yet I have access to NOTHING at the school aside from the textbook) done over the weekend, fully expecting the school to be techno-nerd compliant, because it's a college, right? Guess what? It isn't. There's 1 (count 'em) 1 LCD projector for the whole college - scratch that, there is another one that belongs to the nursing department, but it belongs to the nursing department. Psychology is not part of the nursing department. Great.

Shit. Can't show Power Point presentations and minimize 25 people staring at me for an hour and a half waiting for me to say something deep and philosophical that they can can hold in their hearts foreverandever with no LCD projector. Can't do halfassed fun (okay, mildly interesting) live multimedia-driven lecturish kinda stuff with no LCD projector. Luddites. Good thing I'm not in it for the money.

Needless to say, after general introductions and threats of public humiliation for getting on my nerves for tardiness, eating in class, et cetera, plus a potty/water break were over, I reaallllyy should have let them go. Did I? No. Hell no. Not right away at least. No, I stood there and stammered some dumb bullshit about Wundt and introspection and some other dead guys with bushy eyebrows and something about Freud until they started giving me that "WTF!?" look as if I'd grown a third eye. I have a teenage daughter. I am all too familiar with that look. It was at that point I mercifully let them go.

I can pick up wireless internet access from another classroom so it's not a total loss. After class and about a 45-minute wait on the department chair, I received sort of a tour and brief access to the group copy card to make copies of the syllabus, etc., I still have no official paperwork filled out or access to the online component of the textbook (dammit - that's the fun stuff, too), or anything else. So what did I do? I went straight to CompUSA in Fort Worth and bought an LCD projector. I've been considering one for a long time so now I have one. Too bad the salesman sold me the wrong part to hook my MacBook's mini DVI into the VGA cable. I'll go back tomorrow and exchange it for the right part. Oh well, it's only money and time - I pull both of those out of my ass at an alarming rate, right?

Work Your Fingers to the Bone - Whadda You Git? Bony Fingers!

Not to worry, I haven't forgotten about y'all. Party #2, my best friend's wedding, will be held here Saturday and we're all working our collective tuchis-es off to get the place presentable for such a fete. The cool part is that it's mostly the stuff we usually do to get ready for our legendary annual 4th of July bash and it's really nice to have help. Suz, her beloved and her kids have been here every evening after work to mow, edge, weed-eat, wash windows, clean the fans that I'm too short to get to and generally put a spit-shine on the place. Between that, teaching and the endless errands that have to be taken care of in order to host back-to-back events with over 100 attendees each, I have barely had time to find my own ass - with both hands - much less natter on about anything. You should see the place though...it looks like a goddamn country club.

In other news, I had a long talk with my chair last week and she expects me to fluff up the discussion section of my dissertation by about 15 pages. I knew the discussion section was -ahem- a little light but I've found that just throwing it up against the wall to see if it sticks and letting them tell me what they really want has facilitated my progress better than anything else I've done. I'll be able to get to that after the wedding and in plenty of time for my defense but I'm still not that thrilled about having to do it. It's nice though to have specific suggestions for improvement.

My signet ring and academic regalia arrived Friday. The ring is nice but I was really jazzed about the cap, gown & hood because it makes the whole thing seem more real. However, they put the slit for clothing access on the right side of the gown, despite the fact that I custom-ordered it with the slit on the left - given that I'm a natural born lefty and all. I'm going to go ahead and wear it to my graduation but as soon as I get back home, it's going back to the company so they can fix it since I will need it for future academic events. The Girl asked me why I just didn't live with it. Naturally a right handed person would ask such a question, but I stand by my decision for them to fix it because: A) I am left-handed - (no, really!) and 2) I paid a $hitload of money to get academic regalia that was custom-made to my exact specifications. In addition to the monogrammed initials, those specifications included a left-hand slit - and it was on the paperwork in about 27 different places, with asterisks and all caps and everything so the people who sew it together would be made aware of it. Still didn't happen. Sigh. I really shouldn't complain about it because the customer service rep I spoke with on the phone is also a lefty, so she "got it," and I received the prepaid UPS tag today.

Okay, that's all I know right now. After I finish the last-minute stuff tomorrow, Suz & I are going to lounge poolside with many cold beers on ice with salt, we will be parked between the margarita machine and the kick ass blues band Saturday, and nursing something approximating a hangover on Sunday, so don't expect me back before Monday's CCC at the earliest.

Brisket & Blues Hangover

As usual we had a grand 4th of July celebration. It's been an unusually wet summer so we were concerned but had a contingency plan in case it rained, but we were blessed with the first really pretty day we've had in awhile.

We're known for our hospitality around here so folks came from all over to eat, drink & be merry. The picture is of my husband's smoker. See, I won't let him use my kitchen or my grill, because he thinks the only setting is "high," so he burns everything, but the smoker is all his. He cooks about 2-4 times a year and meat is all he does. Ohhhhh but he makes the best goddamn pecan-smoked brisket you'll ever put in your mouth so those other 361 non-cooking days are forgiven.

The Man makes the brisket & sausage but I make everything else (yes, from scratch, silly): my world-famous potato salad, pasta salad and baked beans plus a melon/berry compote and homemade salsa & dips for the snacky stuff - 'cuz if you've got a bunch of people drinking, you'd better give 'em plenty to eat or you'll end up with a bunch of drunk people before dinner is even served. The badass blues band started around 7-ish and played until midnight and our fireworks show went on for a good couple of hours. A good time was had by all.

We had some interesting tales from this party, including the drunk chick who passed out and pissed in someone else's lawn chair right after the band started playing - and all the fucking parents who weren't paying attention to their little children, who naturally were attracted to the pool, especially after dark when we turned the light on. I'd take their wee little hands and tell them to take me to mommy or daddy, then when we got there I'd admonish them for not watching their kids. Of course they didn't like me much when I did that but I don't give a fat shit. The last thing we need is a lawsuit - or a dead baby - on our hands.

Even though we have so much fun, the worst part is always the cleanup. The Man bought one of those RTV things which is really just a golf cart on steroids (the dump bed is really cool), so The Girl & I loaded that up & drove the 12 very large bags of trash & fireworks debris up to the road for trash day today so I didn't have to get leaky shit in the back of my Tahoe. Then there was the problem of margarita sticky everywhere. You'd think adults wouldn't sling their shit everywhere but that seems to be part of the deal when you invite 100 people over and ply them with alcohol. The most fun part of the cleanup is trying to figure out how people ended up leaving random articles of clothing all over the yard and making up stories of the circumstances surrounding how they might have gotten there.

Now if I can just figure out what the hell happened to my garbage disposal...O_o

I still have a bunch of polishing yet to do on my dissertation, and now that these 3 parties are out of the way I can actually get something done. Chances are good that I won't be around for a couple of days. Oh shit, only 2 weeks left until my defense...