On Grandmothers and Blogging and School

October 19th, 2009

My grandmother mentioned to me a few months ago that “none of the grandchildren blog anymore,” and while some of us do on occasion, she was also quite correct that we’re not as regular about it as we were. And to be honest, I’ve never been good at writing regularly here - too many other things going on! But I thought maybe it was time to write a post, and especially since I’m starting a whirlwind of writing academic material, my brain might appreciate some expression that’s more creative rather than scientific.

But I’ve also been a little bit caught in thinking that every post I write has to be eloquent and well-structured and thoughtful and perfect, and I’m starting to realize that if I hold myself to that standard, I really will never get around to writing anything. And if my grandmother wants to know what I’m up to on occasion, who am I to argue? So here I am, to give you a little update on me and my life, and to state an intention that I would like to write here more often, even if it’s only a paragraph or small thought at a time.

It’s hard to say whether teaching or “dissertating” is a bigger thing for me right now. The dissertation of course casts a longer shadow, and I am slowly but surely trying to actually get some momentum going on writing it. Everyone seems to believe I’ll be graduating in June, so somehow I need to make it happen! This fall, I managed to finally get my dynamic state variable model working, which was ridiculously exciting (one of my favorite things about modeling is that there’s suddenly a point at which “it works,” and it’s a much more obvious milestone than writing a paper is), and then I promptly realized that my understanding of how to go about exploring the model and its outcomes is extremely limited. So my next step with the modeling is to learn how to explore the model, now that I’ve coded it and gotten it to work. And here I thought that part would be easy!

Okay, this isn’t a picture of me dissertating, but that looks pretty boring, so it’s a picture of me helping on an archaeological excavation up the coast over the summer!

Teaching, on the other hand, doesn’t have such a looming deadline at the end of the year, but must happen at least three days a week, and requires all the relevant prep time and energy on a regular basis. I love the teaching, and I once again have fabulous students this quarter, just as I did during summer session. In the summer, I taught Introduction to Archaeology, and was glad I knew the material really well since it all had to be taught in a five week period (an 11 week quarter’s worth of information). It was exhausting, but the students were champs, and I think we had a good time together. And judging from my teaching evaluations that I just received today, it happily seems like they agree with me! This quarter I’m teaching North American Archaeology, material which I know pretty well for some geographic regions, and very little about for other regions. Once again, my students are participatory and engaged and enthusiastic, which is both challenging and rewarding. Challenging because I really do have to know my stuff, and it doesn’t take a lot for them to catch me on things I don’t know. Rewarding because they’re making me learn the material as best as I possibly can before going in to lecture, and I love that they ask me questions and interact with me - the back and forth is one of my favorite things about teaching. I have three students that took Intro to Archaeology with me in the summer, and four students that had me as a TA in previous years for other classes, so it’s nice to know I haven’t scared them off, and even, in a couple of cases, that I got them really excited about archaeology.

Students from Intro to Archaeology walking a transect on the field as they learn how to survey an archaeological site

So I am happy with what I’m doing right now, amidst being overwhelmed and frustrated on a pretty regular basis. If only there were 48 hours in a day, if only academic writing weren’t like pulling my own teeth, if only I didn’t like to do so many other things in my life as well, if only I didn’t have to eat or sleep or shower... The “if only’s” stack up sometimes, and I just try to remind myself that I do what I can, and what happens will happen. Usually all it takes is one really good night’s sleep, and I feel like I can tackle everything head on again!

And that’s all for now, folks. :)

Dave and me, on our one-year-since-we-met anniversary in July

A poem

In Memory of Jim McGough, 1948-2009

Jim

I didn’t see Jim every day
not every week
nor even every month

But over six years of living here
Jim would occasionally walk through my life
always with a smile
always wondering how was I doing
what was I up to
how was school

Perpetually early
he was always surprised to find me at home
and when I was packing to leave
he would be adamant I not worry about him
and be on my way

When I had time though
we would talk
about me
about him
about my research
about the book he was writing

I would leave him cookies on the counter
he would insist I share his pastries

I didn’t see Jim every day
not every week
nor even every month

But now I think of him every day
and now that he’s gone
I realize how big of a presence he truly was.


-cmb, May 7th, 2009

Recent moments

April 16th, 2009

Moment 1.
The fields on campus are blooming purple, small flowers blanketing the hillsides with my favorite color. Christina tells me the flowers are called “stork’s bills,” and I almost don’t believe her until she brings in one of the plants to show me. A purple blossom adorns part of the plant, but incredibly long, pointed, green spikes also extend outwards. “Stork’s bill” suddenly becomes appropriate and understandable. I’m sad to learn that this little flower that covers the fields in purple is an invasive species.

Moment 2.
It’s early in the morning, and I’m biking to the shuttle to get up to campus. The air is thick with fog, salt, kelp, and cold. The ocean often intrudes like this, reaching inland and reminding us that we live on the edge of a vast expanse of water with its own climate. The fog will burn off by mid-morning, but often returns again as the sun sets. On those nights, while lying in bed, I can hear the lighthouse calling warnings into the darkness, accompanying the regular chorus of sea lions.

Moment 3.
She’s so close to the shore, this particular sea otter, closer than one normally gets to see. She’s doing sea otter things, rolling around to stay wet, diving under water to get food, splitting it open to eat. But after several moments of watching, we can also see that she has a baby sea otter on her belly. The little otter seems to cling plenty well enough to stay attached during the rolls, but also keeps jumping off to swim around on its own. Occasionally it tries to follow its mother on a dive, but doesn’t appear to have learned that skill particularly well yet, as it arches into the water over and over until it finally gets under for a brief moment. The mother lets the baby swim around, but big waves lead her to swim over and swoop it back up onto her belly with her tail. The interaction is endearing and mesmerizing, and hard to leave behind.

Moment 4.
Red has overtaken the previous purple, and the cows lounge around in their self-cropped fields. Across the road, where the cows will be moved next week, the plants have grown a couple feet high, and are dominated by white and yellow gangly flowers. It looks like rich eating, and I imagine the cows thrilled as they’re let out of their well-grazed pasture and led into belly-deep food. I don’t think it’s such a bad life being a cow on the UCSC campus.

Colors of a Live Earth Farm winter

February 7th, 2009

One of the things I try to be consciously thankful for on a regular basis is the local, organic produce that can be easily acquired while living on California’s central coast. I love vegetables, so it’s not hard to fully enjoy eating them, but I like to remind myself just how lucky I am to live in a place where I can get a remarkable variety of produce year-round.

For the last two years, I’ve bought into a cropshare program (or CSA: community supported agriculture), where I pay at the beginning of the season for my entire share, and then I get a box of vegetables delivered every week. My farm is called Live Earth Farm, and it’s pretty much the best farm ever (Shaleece will back me up on this). :) It’s located in Watsonville, and is just under 20 miles from my house, so it’s hard to get much more local than that. They deliver to several drop off points in Santa Cruz (and over the hill), so each week I walk three blocks to pick up my box of heaping vegetables. During the summer, the box comes with one or two baskets of strawberries every week, practically worth the cost of the box right there. It’s the best deal available in terms of price and quality, and it’s all organic. They are also the best vegetables and fruits I’ve ever tasted. Seriously.

So, their summer season lasts from April through November, and then you have the option of extending through the winter season, December through March. One might think that the winter season would be all cabbage and root vegetables, but you’d be surprised. There certainly is an abundance of cabbage (fortunately, I like cabbage), and a wide variety of root vegetables (carrots, parsnips, rutabaga, beets, etc.) that are wonderful roasted, but also lots of cooking greens, apples, brussels sprouts, onions, winter squash, romanesco, and so on. Despite being in the middle of January here, my box still comes packed full of richly colored, delectable edibles. My farm even cans their own tomatoes during the summer, and makes jam from their own apricots, so that we get jars of summer flavors during the winter.

I like having a farm that I can call “my farm.” I like being connected to the place that grows my food, to see pictures every week of what is growing, to hear stories of planting, and to have even had my hands in my farm’s soil (during their yearly harvest festival). I have neither the time nor the green thumb to grow my own food right now, so this is the next best thing. With the last winter box, Heidi was so taken with the beautiful colors that were stacked up on the countertop that we decided to take a few pictures. And so, I give you, the colors of a Live Earth Farm winter. :)