Blogging on the Powwow

Yes, Plogging on the Bowwow. ( Thanks, Matt, for the great title suggestion.)  What a few weeks it has been! The title of this post says it all. I really cannot complain though. Many of my friends, students, co-workers, and fellow Bay Staters have experienced significant loss and trauma in recent weeks. I've just been working my fanny off - something that is expected by those of us in academia, especially at this time of year. I have just plowed through three very busy weeks of teaching, grading, and a multitude of campus-related responsibilities. Here are my last few weeks in pictures.     My desk on campus...reading articles for class and prepping questions for my students. The topic in this child welfare class was "The Long Arm of Child Maltreatment." After all my worry about what I would do in class, all was well.  I've had to stay over at a hotel near campus a few times recently. Here I am prepping for my Tuesday class at the hotel...around 11:00pm on a...

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month, so I might as well just write this post and get it over with. One of my main areas of specialization as an academic/researcher is children who die from maltreatment. I've been thinking that I should write a post about this topic for a while, awful as it is. I spend a lot of my time thinking, reading, writing about, researching, teaching, and presenting on fatal child maltreatment. I know it's not an easy topic. I'm with you. Even I need to take breaks from it from time to time. I hope that you can endure this post. There is so much that both the public and professionals need to know about this issue. I'll just give my readers some basic information and refer you to resources, if my readers are inclined to learn more.  Official statistics tell us that about 2,000 children a year die from maltreatment, but we also understand that this number is under-counted. Despite what is covered in the media, most children die from ...

We all have memories or scenes from our childhood that bring us a rush of pleasure, right? Remembering our mothers in the kitchen, fathers reading bedtime stories, grandparents waving as we drove in the long camp drive. It's really the simple, every day activities that when remembered today seem magical and draw us back to the days of yesteryear.  For me, it's seeing butter set out in the sun to soften. My mother would place a stick or two of Blue Bonnet margarine in the huge picture window in our living room or maybe on the window sill over our kitchen sink -- to soften for baking. This was always a welcome sign. It represented the relaxed pace of the weekend, the pleasure of baked goods, the warmth of our home, and spending time in the kitchen with my mother while she baked.  I don't bake nearly as often as my mother did when I was a child, but when I do, it gives me great pleasure to set a stick of butter in the sunlight or another warm place in preparation for bakin...

Well, it happened. I think there is a chance that I now might like swimming . After weeks of cursing, choking on water, having near-panic attacks in water over my head, dealing with goggles that fill with water, and crashing into lane dividers, I heard myself say it yesterday.  I really wish that I had gone swimming today. I could go back to the gym, I guess. I'm really sorry that I didn't swim today.  I saw myself standing on the edge of the vortex, looking deep, deep inside. I know that feeling. The wish that I could run just another mile, maybe sneak in an extra run later in the day or on a "rest day." Maybe planning a way to run an additional long run. In truth, I don't think that I really like  swimming. I just love setting, meeting, and exceeding fitness goals. I started swimming 5 weeks ago tomorrow. I hated it. I cursed at the end of every lap. Neil said that I was going to get a reputation if I didn't watch myself! (You know how worried Neil is ...

It started happening when I was 15 or so. About every month or two, where ever  I happened to be, people would mistake me as an employee and ask me questions. Grocery store: "Where can I find the olives?" Department store: "Where can I find children's socks?" Hospital: "Where is the Cardiology Department?" Library: "Where is the book return?" Restaurant: "Where's the bathroom?" At first I think that I was annoyed by this and probably threw some less-than-polite teenage attitude at my fellow shoppers. When I realized this was a common problem, I just started saying, "I'm sorry, but I don't work here." Sometimes people are apologetic. Sometimes people are angry with me for looking like  an employee -- as if I was actively seeking to deceive them. My favorite example of this happened in the Saco Reny's about 7-8 years ago. I was making May Day baskets for all of my neighbors. I was short on time and ...

Anyone who follows my blog or my Facebook page, knows that I can grow flowers. I am a dedicated gardener. I prune my roses daily. I water my petunias daily. I dug up all of my dahlias last fall and I'm ready to put them in again come April or May. But, herbs are a different matter. Since 1996 I have been trying to grow basil. Every year I kill it. And, it isn't just limited to basil. Oh, no. I do not discriminate between herbs. I have also killed rosemary, thyme, and parsley -- just to name a few. I have tried to grow them from seed. I have bought beautiful, fully leafed-out plants. I have killed them, too. I cannot keep any of them alive. Here is this year's attempt - rosemary and thyme, sitting in the sun of our back porch. Tonight I moved them to the front porch to catch the morning sun before I am up. Fingers crossed that something will be different this year!

As my readers likely know, last fall I planted 450 bulbs . I lovingly covered them with mulch and then spread chicken coop wire over the flower beds to protect the bulbs from the skunks and squirrels. And, what do I have this spring?  I have 3 large flower beds that are sprouting... nothing. That's right. NOTHING . None of the beds where I planted bulbs are showing any signs that they even know what a bulb is. Meanwhile, in the "old" garden beds... granted, "old" is a relative term since this is only our fifth spring in our home ...bulbs are popping up everywhere.  See the merry little bulbs poking their sprouts out - Hello, Emily! We're here! Do not despair!!  Along the foundation of our house - forgotten bulbs let me know that they  have not forgotten, even if I have! Could anything look more cheerful?  Oh, 450 new bulbs from Reny's... where are you and when will you poke through? I am more than waiting. I am pining !