Born & Bred

You better get accustomed to that net-cutting, Roy. You'll be doing it again quite soon. Maybe not this year. But it's coming. These boys may be gone, but you've got a bunch of loveable freshies.

Something very strange happened when the final seconds elapsed Tuesday night: fans stood and cheered. It wasn't a polite sound of clapping as the final buzzer sounded. It was a loud, resounding ovation that followed the Tar Heels off the floor, into the tunnel, and down the hallway to their locker room.
It was unlike almost any sound you've ever heard in the Smith Center after a loss.
It was the sound of a fan base falling in love.

--Adam Lucas http://tarheelblue.collegesports.com/sports/m-baskbl/spec-rel/113005aab.html

Thanksgiving was lovely. I adore my family. Holidays are always going to be sad, especially when we go celebrate with my dad’s side of the family, but I’m ever so thankful for the Powell side of my family tree because they like to share the memories as much as I do. I ate entirely way too much. We had lunch on Thanksgiving with the Powells (isn’t my littlest cousin oh so precious--pumpkin on her face and all?) and dinner that night with my mother’s parents. My mom cooked a big meal on Friday in honor of my sister’s 2 year anniversary and then on Sunday we had Thanksgiving with my mother’s side of the family. There was quite a lot of food involved in my week in Gates County.


While I was home, I graded my in-class essays. I hate that assignment and I hated grading it. I have a feeling that quite a few of my students hate me after seeing their grades. But I did have one student invite me to a Christmas party. He made sure to let me know that it will be after I submit my grades so I won’t be his teacher anymore. He’s a sweet guy and seems to have a swell bunch of friends. I told him if I’m around, I’ll go.



So Emory’s application is in, which is good because it’s due December 1. I’m slightly nervous. More than slightly. I want it. I want it bad. Real bad. And they only let in about 10 people. Please, oh please, let me be one of those 10. The only problem with Emory other than the whole not getting in factor, is if by some chance I do get in, I have a feeling that it could screw with one of my friendships. Everybody already thinks I do everything because of this person anyway, heaven forbid I move to the same state to further my degree because obviously I’m only going for him. Idiots. My moves may be calculated and purposeful, but they are not associated with him. But again, it won’t matter if they don’t let me in. That’s merely a small bridge I’ll have to cross when and if it happens. If I never mention it again it means I was not one of the great and I don’t have to worry about screwing up a friendship. Do not ask me about Emory if I don’t mention it again because I’d rather not dwell on my failures.

**in other news, I am slightly ticked off because the books I ordered came today and I realized that one of the books is not a book at all, but rather a book on tape. Argh. I hate books on tape.

Sweet Harry Potter

For years I refused to be one of the Harry Potter followers. I laughed at Rowling’s fame and fortune, while inwardly longing to be her. I simply would not allow myself to fall in with the masses and worship the little Hogwart’s wizard. Then something happened. A couple of years ago, I suppose, I randomly stumbled across the first Harry Potter movie on TV. It was addictive, kind of like coke, but without the massive weight-loss and numbing qualities. Harry became a dirty secret. I’m still denying myself the books. While I was at St. Edmund’s Hall at Oxford University, I discovered that good ole Teddy Hall had given Rowling an honorary degree. Bullocks. I swore up and down that woman didn’t deserve it. Surely she wasn’t that fantastic. Perhaps I’m merely holding on to my past disdain for this woman who made a fortune in the world I long to find entry to. I think I’ve forgiven her, though jealousy still clouds my thoughts sometimes. When time allows, Harry Potter will be my heroin. A straight shot of that adorable little wizard right in the blood stream. Back to the movies… I’ve seen the first two. The third has remained elusive because my fetish with this wizard has remained a dirty little secret. I exposed my secret this weekend when I ventured out and saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in the light of day. The theater was packed and I was forced to sit in the second to the front row where all could see that I, Tommi Powell, had indeed paid to see a Harry Potter movie. Oh sweet moses, was it worth it. I’m in love with Harry, or perhaps I’m more in love with Daniel Radcliff. I wouldn’t mind having babies with that sweet lad, even if they turned out to be muggles. This was a fantastic movie. I laughed, I silently screamed, and I cried. Oh yes, I shed a tear along with young Potter. (And I really want a sweatshirt that says ‘Potter’ like the one he wore in the tournament. *hint*hint* I request a little dragon like the one he pulled out of the sack, but somehow I don’t fancy any of you could give me one, even if you loved me bunches.) So back to how adorable Harry Potter is… I think an obsession may be forming… As Beth stated as we were leaving the theater “I want to see the next movie NOW!!!” And I do. As you know, Ralph Fiennes plays the lovely evil “he who must not be named” and let me state for the record that this was not the adorable Fiennes who smiles for me and only for me. I’m looking at the picture right now of him smiling at me from my London days, and I see no evil. But boy did he freak me out. Maybe I should never watch Red Dragon if he freaks me out in the Harry Potter movie… *sigh* He DOES smile at me. Just ask. I should mention, while on the subject of Harry Potter, that my extreme disdain for Rowling and her wizard world had nothing to do with my religion or my traditional upbringing. I say shame on those who would deny a child a book, especially a book whose story, while fantastical, contains so many universal elements. Oh you fanatical religious groups who condemn Potter and Rowling and then sing the praises of Lewis and his witch and lion and wardrobe. Shame on you. Let the children read.

In other news, I decided, after much contemplation, to attend DMFN’s 80’s prom night. It was much fun. How can drinking with some of my favorite people while listening to excellent 80s music not be fun?

Christmas music makes everything better.
I'm ready for December to get here...

ferret love

Saturday's dinner was simply delicious. We had a wonderful time at Lark's, but Boo, sweet ferret that is she, was the main event and the star. She's also something of the camera whore. But isn't she adorable? The meal started with a pecan-encrusted goat cheese and baby spinach salad with strawberry vinaigrette. This was followed by a beautifully presented spinach and cheese stuffed chicken breast covered in a red pepper cream sauce.

(YUMMY) For dessert we had poach pears with a vanilla glaze and creme freche, again beautifully presented. See picture.

The night truly was a lot of fun. I adore my girls and Tilan. I have tons more pictures, including a picture of Boo taking a ride in Tilan's overalls and of Robley drinking out of the butt mug. There's also a fantastic video of Beth dancing but that is for neither here nor there.

In other news, isn't this the most adorable picture of me and my favorite pupdog in the whole wide world?

Today I had to speak at a tribute to Gay. It was actually a lot of fun and I'm really glad I did it, but I'm just kind of bummed out. I'm trying not to be, but I can't help but remember what time of year it is and tomorrow is going to be a very bad day. I know this and I can't do anything about it. I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up for a couple of weeks. From about the 15th until Thanksgiving I'm just not myself.

self-destruct mode

So, for whatever inappropriate reason, I decided to go out last night. I have a huge test in a couple of hours that I should have studied for but I opted for "Purple Alaskan Thunder Fucks" (I think that's right) and a lil' PBR instead. While I am neither Asian nor dressed like a bee, I look like this little guy about right now. In fact, I had a very similar picture taken. There were grapes anyway. Right? And to top it off, I had someone trying to pimp me out, just like our little bee friend. Non es frio. Not cool.

Back to the test. It's on the English Canon, ie. dead white men. I figure if all else fails, the answer is Shakespeare or maybe Sidney if we're doing poetry. Or maybe Chaucer. Or Spenser. Or Petrarch. Or... Or... Ok, so the English Canon is insanely large and my concentration is South African Literature. I'm going to bet cash money that NO south african questions appear. And they call that fair. *sigh* (Now watch my little 2 hour test be littered with South African questions and I get them ALL wrong. That totally would rain on my "oh, I'm a south african lit. genius person" parade.)

I'm doing dinner with my girls tonight. Lark is cooking what, at least in words, appears to be a fabulous meal. There will be wine, which tommi will not touch. wine = angry/sleepy girl. There will, quite likely, be a wee bit of "guys are jerks" talk. Only a wee. After all, we all have our stories. Oh, and Tilan will be there. Since Boo is a girl (I think... How do you tell if a ferret is a boy or girl? Is it noticeable? Should I have already noticed? Or perhaps, if male, Boo simply is hung like a fruit bat? I knew a guy like that once. Sad.) anywho, as I was saying, since Boo is most likely female, Tilan will be the only male present. But we love him so we'll call it a girls night and pretend not to notice that he's not.

In other news, I still have mono and Scout still has gas.

Hey kettle, this is pot. You're black.

Don’t beep your horn at 5 am when you’re waiting for someone who just so happens to live in the same apartment complex as me. It makes tommi a very unhappy girl to have to listen to your incessant beeping. And word to the wise, if you’ve been beeping nonstop for 5 minutes and s/he still hasn’t shown up, why don’t you go bloody KNOCK on the door?


I’m still sick. And grouchy. Can’t forget the grouchy part. My kids start their in-class essay assignment today. I feel obligated to say I resent the fact that this is required and worth so much of their final grade. I don’t think it’s a good indicator of their writing ability and I really don’t want to grade 67 hand-written essays… But alas, my voice has been silenced by the department heads who made the decision long before the decision to hire me was made. And since I’m a sheep, I follow the crowd and do as I’m told. Sorry, kids. But I’m bringing em’ chocolate and other sugary briberies to do good so I don’t have to fail them.


I went to court on Friday. The cute little cop who pulled me was there. He’s adorable so I couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Precious cops… Anywhores, I got there a tad late but I was able to see the DA who looked at the ticket, asked me when I got my last ticket, laughed when I said it’s my first, and reduced it to 64 in a 55. Life is good again, but my wallet is $120 lighter… How much was the actual ticket, you ask? $10. That’s right. $110 in court costs. Be it jail time or court fines, hertford county will apparently rape you either way. Have I mentioned I’m grouchy?


So I’ve been doing my graduate school applications (or making a half-hearted attempt, anyway) and I have decided that I still don’t know what I want to do. PhD (if they’ll have me) or publishing (if they’ll have me). But somebody has got to want me, right? I had an interesting conversation with a friend the other day who, upon my request, provided me with 3 reasons for which he thinks I am an adult.
1) I have my priorities “roughly” in the right order.
2) I take responsibility for my actions.
3) I could successfully raise a child.

Score. It’s totally baby time.



I kid.





Honestly.

My comps are OVER!! After an hour of being grilled about sex & politics in the works of Nadine Gordimer, they sent me out of the room to confer. About 10 or so minutes later, they came out to tell me that I had passed!! YAY!! I could have talked about Gordimer for much longer, but they only let you have an hour so... And my nerves were shot. Between mono, preparing for a presentation on apartheid, the upcoming subject test, court, and my comps, I think I'm coming pretty close to losing my mind. I still have mono, the subject test and court to deal with. Oy. *Nadine Gordimer*

NERD ALERT

(the running list of Gordimer books I can stand behind)

July's People

A Sport of Nature

Burger's Daughter

My Son's Story

The Essential Gesture

The Pickup

COMPS!!!!!!

My comps are today at 2. The room is booked, the books are read (some of them anyway) and the paper long sent to the committee. I ran into a committee member last night. He'd forgotten. Now I'm scared. Really scared.

I'm semi-late for work because, of course, I had to work today. I've got to go to Panera because you've GOT to feed your committee. It's close to bribery, but whatever works...