Hell’s broke loose in Georgia

This has been a marginally successful day. On the one hand, it was snowing and I tried to build a fire in the fireplace because it seemed like a good thing to do. But apparently, I am a very bad Boy Scout, because I only succeeded in making a mess. However, my hands smell pleasantly like woodsmoke, so I guess that is something.

On the other hand, I got a call from the School of Rock [not its real name], which I thought had forgotten about me, and they have four students for me and by the way, can I start on Monday at 4? Why, yes! I can! And a panicked practice session was embarked upon immediately. I’m finding muscles I forgot I had. Now I have to scrounge up some music by Monday. I’m feeling very nervous about this, but also excited. I really like this place. It’s got a great atmosphere. And I’m hoping I’m finally going to be able to try out the mandolin and maybe a 4-string Irish banjo, both of which are tuned like the violin. So far I have a 7-year-old rank beginner and the guy who hired me, who’s an accomplished guitarist who’s taught himself a lot of other instruments but has found himself somewhat stymied by the bow. They’re still trying to schedule a father/daughter combo who want to study together. I really hope I don’t embarrass myself. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to play “Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

In the neutral camp is the writing, which proceeds, but not as quickly as I would have liked today. But I’m hoping I might be able to scrounge a little more time on it this evening. I also heard back from a conference to which I submitted a proposal. They didn’t take it — I’m not surprised. It really wasn’t the best thing I could have sent them, but I didn’t hear about it until the conference organizer mentioned it to me two days before the deadline, at which point I was laid up with The Swine, so I did the best I could under the circumstances. However, it sounds like there may be a panel or moderating job for me there, so it may not be a total loss. My uncle teaches at the university hosting that conference and it’s only a 5-6 hour drive from here, so barring a blizzard (and in January along the shores of Lake Michigan, you can never really bar a blizzard), it shouldn’t be too much of a hardship to get there, especially knowing that Zingerman’s awaits on the other end of the trip. And honestly, I’m pretty relieved that they didn’t take the proposal, because I’m already scheduled to give a different paper at a conference in yet another state (at my alma mater, in fact) less than a week later. That one’s been on my calendar for nearly two years, so it’s got to take priority.

And now I must return to working. It looks like a pleasant enough situation. I am sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a furry grey cat snuggled up to my elbow. But the fireplace has no fire and the cat has a flatulence problem. Things are not as good as they may appear. But they could certainly be a lot worse.