If I had time to think about it, I might almost feel guilt for deluging you with old posts and scattered photos of my rugs.
Of course, that would be if I had time. Which I am woefully lacking.
The dissertation timeline which was heart stopping in December has become stroke inducing in February. The grueling schedule of Site visits, trying to transcribe the conversations of 4 and 5 year olds, as they weave between French and English, doing revisions on the chapters already submitted and then repeating the cycle, amongst the million other things which have decided to crop up.
You know, the odd pap smears I have ignored for the past three years? Or my daughter's hormones and 7th grade exams, which have both conspired to punch me directly in the face? The fact that my student visa runs out in August so we get kicked out of the country? And I have no job? Or the brakes on the car deciding to throw in the proverbial towel?
Here, wait a second. I can feel your breathing get a little panicked....Look at this photo:
So, in between having dreams about Google Scholar and falling asleep thinking about the journal article on code switching that I really need to find, and did I properly cite something...and how exactly AM I going to get all I need to get into each section, while reviewing all the reading on qualitative methodologies and ethnography's, and making notes in my research journal as well as checking the field notes ...only to wake up and start it all again
And I find this soothing. Hands in wool. Colour all around me. Like a glorious abstract painting that flows out of my hands at night.
Getting me ready for another day.
Of course, that would be if I had time. Which I am woefully lacking.
The dissertation timeline which was heart stopping in December has become stroke inducing in February. The grueling schedule of Site visits, trying to transcribe the conversations of 4 and 5 year olds, as they weave between French and English, doing revisions on the chapters already submitted and then repeating the cycle, amongst the million other things which have decided to crop up.
You know, the odd pap smears I have ignored for the past three years? Or my daughter's hormones and 7th grade exams, which have both conspired to punch me directly in the face? The fact that my student visa runs out in August so we get kicked out of the country? And I have no job? Or the brakes on the car deciding to throw in the proverbial towel?
Here, wait a second. I can feel your breathing get a little panicked....Look at this photo:
Why Yes, that IS a picture of our cat Loki, underneath one of Emily's Bras.
I started this little rug.
Originally just to use up scraps and mindlessly do something at night when I refuse to engage in thinking activities. Plus, I need something to gift to my supervisor...if I make it to the end of this hellish race without bursting into flame.
Getting me ready for another day.
3 Baleful Regards:
love the rug....I can almost feel the wool in my hands....
I know she's growing up, but I think, especially because of the re-posts, it's just shocking to realize your Emily wears a bra.
She's only seven, right? ;)
I know Roo, I know - In some ways blogging has captured things about her childhood that I would never have written down, had it not been for this forum, this community.
Going back through the older archives, I see her - so clearly - as that barely six year old she was...and because of that, her babyhood becomes closer, because I was so much fresher to it all.
It is a strange and amazing gift which,while completely unexpected, is one that I cherish beyond words.
I wish it for you and J and your little man!
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