The Polar Vortex Strikes Back

Except image Darth Vader as a big snowflake, or Snow Miser, or something.

Sorry dude, you're too much

Both the first and second waves of bitter cold are probably no surprise to, oh, all of you, since the entire northern US was hit with chill and snow. The first time around we ended up with over a foot of snow (I have pictures of my car, they're scary); this time around is more just cold. The insides of my windows have ice and frost on them, I've spent most of the past week in a blanket, and I drink ungodly amounts of warm beverages. That last one is nothing new. I found a fantastic recipe for root veggie and ginger soup that I'm planning to make tomorrow.

Because it is so cold, I don't want to move very much. Counterproductive, I know. I really don't want to go outside, except for a few minutes while Peaches proves that teaching animals to use the toilet is probably the best unattainable idea every. She, on the other hand, wants to sniff around and explore. The apartment gets boring after a time, I understand, I just lack an indoor, fenced, heated space for her to dash around and explore. Anyone with ties to a dog-friendly, leash-free place inside, hit me up!

Like last time, I've taken this cold snap/extended dance sequence as a change to hunker down and indulge myself. Between watching The Daily Show and Parks and Recreation, I've also been reading a fascinating book about clothing and textiles in the colonial and federal period. Mostly the clothes and accessories explored are from Colonial Williamsburg, and run from the early-ish 1700s through the very early 1900s. Even though I love pants and don't really like corsets, many of the dresses are just gorgeous. I love the shape they give, and would really enjoy working in Williamsburg sometime if my life takes a different path. Or even if it doesn't, who knows? Summer would be kind of brutal in Virginia. That might just be a price I pay, like October in Salem when our cloaks were mostly for show.

One fascinating detail from the studies of 18th- and 19th- century clothing is that the really nice clothes were usually not made particularly well. They held together just fine and looked lovely, of course, but they wouldn't have been finished on the inside or stitched particularly carefully. Homemade linens - chemises, shifts, shirts, and so on - were often stitched very neatly and carefully. No loose edges, no raggedy bits, finished seams, everything would have been made really well. This was because those homemade, everyday items had to stand up to wear and tear, as well as regular washing and bleaching. Dressy clothes were worn far less often, were not worn next to the body, and would have been sent out to a specialist to be cleaned when necessary. They didn't have to stand up to daily work, body oils, or regular scrubbing, so their construction didn't reflect that concern. The book talked about this difference in the context of what is a "masterful" item, since we often think of such items as being the best specimen of whatever it is they are. While some very impressive wealth displays and beauty can be found in nice clothes, some of the best craftsmanship can be found in much humbler items that required it.

I'm sure there's a deep lesson there somewhere. For instance, write syllabi carefully. Also notes on papers?

Another factoid: indigo dye (the only good blue available at the time) oxidizes and sets upon contact with air. Clothing patterns were often made by stamping an adherent on the clothing and then submerging the whole thing in a dye so the dye stuck to the clothing. The alternative was stamping the clothes themselves. In both circumstances, indigo wouldn't adhere nicely because it would set on the stamp or get all strange in the dyeing vat. The blue parts of 18th-century textiles tends to look a bit sloppy because it was applied by hand with a brush, but quickly. This is true for really nice fabrics like expensive silks as well as much cheaper cottons and wools. All the other colors are perfectly in line, and the blue is just a little smudged.

Probably also a lesson there.

Off Hiatus

The only thing more boring that my daily routine might very well be my exam period and school break. The normal schedule includes such exciting elements as going to class, doing my homework, eating, sleeping, and joining in the odd activity outside my hermitage of an apartment. I often go to bed by 10:30. Clearly I live an interesting life.

Exam period looked much the same, except everything except eating and sleeping was replaced with research and writing, and more research and more writing. And break? Just eating and sleeping, more or less. I hope your holiday period looked much the same. Rest is such an important part of our rhythm - the prescription (common to many religions) of a holy day to spend not doing normal things is really a wonderful invention.

As of the first week of January I'm back in classes, and my days are taking on the patterns of grad school again. One difference: I adopted a dog! Her name is Peaches, and she's a nine-year-old terrier mix. Her ears stand up and she's endlessly curious about everything. My mom calls her Nosy Rosy. Somewhere in her previous life she learned to stand on her hind legs for long periods of time, the better to peer over barriers or look to see if I'm on the bed, one presumes. She's curled up next to me as a write, snoring a little bit. I'm grateful to have her around - she gets me out of the apartment and reminds me to maintain a normal meal schedule, for her sake if not for my own. I've really missed having a fuzzy companion the past five years. All colleges should allow fuzzy pets, not just fish. It's very difficult to snuggle with a fish. (They usually die if you attempt it).

My department's requirements for graduation include proving competence in a second language, even if that language has little to do with your area of research or interest. In my case, I go the boring route of 17th-19th-century Britain, where English serves me pretty well. I still need to have a second language, in my case for the purposes of expanding my worldview and looking outside the Anglo-American box. This is a good thing, if ending up somewhat frightening. My graduate-level German class is a steep learning curve, but the 400-level undergrad courses wouldn't fit with my schedule. Our first class was cancelled due to the polar vortex (!!) that swept through a vast portion of the States a couple weeks ago, but last week's discussion of citizenship and national identity in pre-EU Germany and Europe really stretched my ability to participate in a conversation. About the time that I would figure out the gist of the current conversation and formulate a vaguely related comment, the class would have already moved far beyond that point. The professor assures us that our first reading was the hardest one, and this week's reading seems to confirm that point. Rede des toten Kolumbus am Tag des Jüngsten Gerichts (The speech of the deceased Columbus on doomsday) is not an easy read, to be sure, but I can follow the narrative, such as there is. The novel might be called experimental for its lack of a clear storyline and time jumps. It might also just be called confusing. And as is typical of German art of a certain generation, it is highly political.

Thankfully the class, while interested in German as a language and German scholarship and writing, is a bit more flexible. Our discussions flipped between German and English, as do our readings. Other than the occasional inability to think of a certain word in whatever language we're currently using, this seems a good way to go. My colleagues back in Germany would be horrified at our use of a non-monolingual language classroom.My students would likely cheer.

This particular class requires that we cultivate an online presence as people and scholars, though I confess mixing the two leaves me feeling a little nervous. I've been assured that personal blogs are acceptable for this kind of presence-creation; I may be spending a bit more time on theory, philosophy, and reflection this semester instead of just stories about wiggly elementary schoolchildren on a field trip. Do bear with me. I'll try to be entertaining.

Burrowing in

As it turns out, burying one's head in a long series of books for several months on end isn't nearly as entertaining as German schoolchildren. Or being a tourist. So I've been quiet for a while, not precisely because there's nothing to write about, but because most of it would devolve into a high-pitched, pathetic whine. Like a leaky teakettle.

Speaking of teakettles...

The things that have kept me sane over the past six weeks:

Tea
Chocolate
Pleasure reading
John Stewart
String cheese
Petfinder

Why the last? I'm really really deeply considering adopting a dog. I miss small fuzzy things. My apartment is wonderful and I love my own space, but it would be nice to share it with a small creature sporting big brown eyes and a wagging tail. I haven't had time to visit any shelters, that's the plan for after I've turned in my papers in another week or two. In the meantime I browse the websites and fall in love with a succession of sweet faces. I have a whole list of places to visit when I'm finally free. And while I don't have the time or energy to deal with a puppy by myself, you can bet your boots that I'll want to pet and snuggle any puppies currently in residence.

Fun fact: at least one university brings in local therapy animals and puppies for the students to cuddle during finals week. I think that sounds like a fabulous idea. I might consider trying to get it started at my university. But later. When I have time.

I'll leave you with my pile of books. The 23 (!!) of them represent only some of the books I've read for these papers, but some are already returned and others are on the internet. It's weird to read books on the internet, but highly highly useful.

Deep breaths. Breathe. Breathe.