Cold Spaghetti

Paul and Will watch the tugs push barges down the Mississippi. At “The Fly,” a local river front park hidden behind Audubon Zoo. 

Will was covered in faded poster paints when I picked him up from school. His legs (from the knees down, he wore shorts today) were marked a faded blue.

I can’t wait until he actually can tell us what he did at school. All we can do now is play guessing games to figure out how he managed to cover himself with paint.

I’ve turned the corner and am back in the swing of things… still very very stuffy and congested, but not as sore and definitely more energy. Thank goodness for the magic of antibiotics!

I met with Dr. Rice, the biostats professor I adore. We met at her house, brightly painted in yellows and greens that could make any grouch crack a smile. She made my day: the regression equations I was sure I destroyed were actually done correctly. In fact, the problems I had were weaknesses we already knew about, so it was really obvious in going through the problems what I need to spend my time working on (dealing with interaction terms in logisitic regression). This is a huge relief. She said I was “in great shape” and made me feel much, much better. Even cooler, when I asked her to be on my committee, she said she’d be “delighted” and “would love to!” Thank goodness!

So: my committee is set (Kendall, Murphy, Rice), I’ve gotten thumbs up on biostats, survey design, and m&e. I’m still waiting to hear from my Econometrics prof… and then I’ll feel good about Day One. Time to turn to working on Day Two…!

Oh, and working on getting better. I do *not* want to deal with a stuffy head while sitting these exams!

I’m sick.

A trip the neighborhood MD, a long wait in the pharmacy line for Paul (we only have one pharmacy open during limited hours), and inhalers, sprays, and antibodics… that was our day.

I’m just hoping that I can breathe well enough to make it to my meeting tomorrow with my biostats professor… I’ve been waiting for weeks to have the opportunity of face-to-face time.

The good news: Will and Paul seem okay. It’s just me this time.

Will has been fighting off a runny nose for a few days. Today it seems his runny nose won.

I have been in allergy hell for about a week. It’s progressing into headache, tummy crud, and sore throat. (I’ve got an appointment with an allergist on Monday.)

Paul isn’t complaining about anything in particular, but isn’t at full capacity either.

This is turning into a sick house.

– Cheese sandwich. A thin spread of mayo keeps the bread and cheese stuck together. We used to cut off the crust, but not anymore.
– Fruit: usually grapes (uvas) or apple
– Goldfish or graham crackers
– Raisins, occassionally.
– A small freezer pack (from my breast pump) to keep things cool until lunch time.
– Packed in Paul’s old Proquest lunch snack, with Will’s name taped on the side. (One of these days we’ll have to get him an Elmo or Rolie Polie Olie lunch box.)

No crying when I dropped Will off today at school! Not that he was particularly joyful (he called out, “Mommy?”) but there was no break down and crying. We’re actually getting better at this, thank goodness!

I finished my advanced biostats review problems and now have to move into making review sheets… which I am dreading. I had envisioned this part of exam prep to be the easiest… but really, it is proving to be the hardest. How do you succintly sum up so much? I’m feeling overwhelmed by it all.

The city is inspiring me to wonder… is there voodoo for comprehensive exams? Maybe a doll to inspire committee members to write easy questions? A charm to help me quickly find the proper formula in my notes?

PapPap and Will build a lego tower… the impressive part is that PapPap is down on the floor with Will, despite a very bad grinding hip! 

Little man chills in his footsie pjs… a score from Children’s Place this weekend, where I discovered that those affected by Katrina (as shown by driver’s license) get an additional 30% of all purchases through December 31st!  

Head to toe in frilly yellow, she swayed in front of Wal-Mart, parasol in hand, greeting the Mobile area shoppers. In the flesh: a Dogwood Trail Maiden.

I had to look up the actual name when I got back to my parents. I have a hard time remembering “Dogwood Trail Maiden” and have called them “Magnolia Misses,” “Azalea Girls,” “Confederate Princesses,” and “Plantation Roses.” I don’t think that any of my names are all that bad, but apparently, messing up the title of a Dogwood Trail Maiden is a serious no-no in these parts. I’ve learned to simply ask about the local girls’ “Scholarship contest.”

I have a hard time with the Dogwood Trail gig. So what if they might be able to get a few bucks? They have to dress up in ridiculous antibellum gowns, carry parasols, and act like rejects from Gone With the Wind. Scarlett O’Hara would have never acted so demure and docile. Something about all of it makes me feel that the real purpose and intent has nothing to do with giving girls a scholarship opportunity.

Truly, I don’t want to be hard on these girls. But I’ve learned some insider things about the Dogwood Trail (having a family friend who is an organizer and whose daughter was THE actual Dogwood Queen — and having a father who served as a judge in the last pageant.)

— The pageant is overwhelmingly white. The few girls of color who participate (in my opinion) are just there so that the organizers can claim a blind eye to the issues of race and privilege weaved through the event.
— The pageant is overwhelming rich. These are private school girls.
— The pageant, although claiming to be about intelligence, poise, speaking skills, and talent, is about being pretty. (I have it from the inside that judges shockingly discuss issues of beauty — size, skin, height, weight, hair and eyes — as key aspects of their judging tally, and that these were viewed as much more important than academic records, presentation, speaking skills, and poise.)

And so I ask. Do boys get paraded about in ridiculous clothing? Why do we torture young women and teach them to like it?

So, there she was. A Dogwood Trail Maiden. Selling the Dogwood Trail calendar (12-months of the girls in various poises amongst the magnolia and azaleas), smiling sweetly to all who passed. (I’ve actually seen the calendar up close. It’s terrifying.) I couldn’t look at her, she looked absurd. Plus, the risk of me saying something like “wasn’t Halloween last week?” was too great.

Dogwood Trail Maidens. Honestly. I mean, HONESTLY.