Screaming Teenage Girls at Twilight

New Moon was a lot of fun. The theater was packed (there were two showings at the same time, and both were sold out). Leah and I stood in line for 35 minutes and ate cinnamon ice cream, then snagged good seats. I have never been awash in so much estrogen--there were perhaps 15 guys in the whole 150+ seat room. When Robert Pattinson came on screen, there were shrieks of adoration from all around. When Taylor Launter took his shirt off, I do think some girls swooned entirely away. I was as amused by the audience as I was by the movie, and the movie had a lot of good funny lines. Much crisper, neater consolidation of the book material this time around. I'll probably go with another girlfriend or two to see it while it's still in wide release, and I most definitely will eventually own it on DVD (though probably not until it goes below $6 on Half.com--I can wait). A great chick-flick.

I turned in my grant proposal yesterday.

Leah has arranged for me to do an all-day jewelry show the second week in December at her son's school. I look forward to seeing how well Anita and I do at Georgetown and then the week after at St. Whatsisname's. This afternoon I created, printed up, cut out and distributed 750 postcard-size flyers to staff and graduate student mailboxes for the Georgetown show. I need to distribute about that many more Monday morning before I leave for GA--I only got to one building. And thus far, I don't have any volunteers to assist me, other than the sweet Leah and Anita's husband.

Not So Crappy

The IREX people have extended the grant application deadline to November 20. It seems I was not the only one experiencing technical difficulties with the site yesterday (and, their email implied, yesterday wasn't the only day such problems had occurred). Thank God. This will not only give me the chance to upload what I have done, but to complete any other categories I've left incomplete, and correct any errors in my virtual paperwork. I am vastly relieved.

Crap, Crap, Crap!

OK, so I spent all day (truly productively) on Friday drafting the IARO grant proposal, a printout of which I drove over to my advisor's house at 4 PM. (Then I took him to the liquor store because he was out of cigarettes, but that's another story.)

Saturday, before and after a slow day at the market, I spent a while on editing, Sunday I worked on the bibliography, and Monday the thing underwent more revisions and I met with my Russian recommender (who carefully submitted the required form after quizzing me on the project in that language). Today I finished up making changes, incorporating my advisor's comments, and spent more hours culling and consolidating the bibliography. In the end, I had about six single-spaced pages of works to be consulted, half primary sources.

By 3:30, I was done, and logged onto the IREX system to upload the necessaries. I hit the "save and return" button on the very first subsection, and the server shut down. I don't think I, personally, killed it, but whatever and whoever responsible, it died. And remained dead. The application and all supporting documentation were due at 5 PM.

I prayed, and I telephoned. Neither of the two people responsible for the program were answering their extensions. I left messages on both voicemails. Then I emailed the general contact address, attaching the documents I still lacked in Word format and explaining what had happened. Since I didn't get to hit the "submit" button on the online form, who knows what they'll be able to access, or--let's be honest about this--what they'll be willing to access.

I'm actually remarkably calm and content about the whole technological fiasco. I did what I could--I had everything together on time, a feat considering I'd just heard Thursday that the application was due today. I've effectively got my new dissertation proposal drafted, so that's one more piece of paperwork out of the way. And I just don't have the energy to get upset--I spent hours yesterday crying (not about the application! Repeat after me: "Men are clueless slime."), and my tear ducts are toast. One's eye makeup does go on awfully easily on swollen eyelids, though--an unexpected side-benefit of misery.

Dissertation Forward!

I finally met with my advisor Tuesday (our schedules simply haven't matched up heretofore), and he was not only willing to hear my dissertation revision, he was enthusiastic about my new topic--and he knew only a smidgen about Pirogov (mainly the man's proponence of women's rights). I am tickled. More than that, I'm seriously excited. Pirogov was fundamental to Russia's disease control efforts (he published on cholera), an early surgical anesthetist, and an educator who fell afoul of traditional anti-Semitism when he praised (in print) a Jewish orphanage in Odessa. And about a zillion other things. And I'm going to write the first (the Definitive) biography of him in English.

Money, is, of course, the only obstacle standing between me at the realization of this keen ambition. The International Research Exchanges Board grant application (pretty much the one on which all Russianists rely--I don't think you'll find a professor of Russian History anywhere in the United States who has not received a fellowship from them sometime in his or her career) is due November 17. That's Tuesday. I've got to construct a formal dissertation proposal, get the relevant parties to sign it, and create a grant proposal and travel plan between now and then.

Actually, I have to get the research proposal done tonight, after I've finished my scheduled meeting with my Russian conversation tutor (she knows I'm unemployed, so she's taking me on as a charity case), because my advisor says he won't write the recommendation letter without seeing my proposal, and then he needs the weekend to compose the thing.

Wee bit stressed at present, but in a good way--I feel like I am working toward a real, worthy goal. And two other professors have already told me that they are more than willing to testify to my language proficiency (Russian and French). The French recommendation has in fact already been submitted! (I'm on campus, caught the professor at the right time, and she sat down with me in her office and had finished it in a few minutes).

So, God willing, this will work. Steven told me the other day that he and Susan have been praying that somehow my dissertation would be able to be finished. It looks like we'll be finding out! Look out, Russia, Ukraine, Estonia (and possibly), Germany, I'm on my way.

Applications and Placement

Dex is back from Peru and will shortly be collecting his Sprint Smartview, which means I won't have Internet access at home, so I'd best take blogging advantage while I've still got it!

I feel like I'm in a quicksand of applications. After the rejection--however kind--by the first agent I approached with "Two Motherlands," I took Dex's advice and headed off to the library to pull from a list of other possibilities. Just like the job applications I've been trudging through online, each agency (if they are in fact accepting new clients, and not exclusively by referral!) has its own guidelines as to what they are looking for, and what they expect prospective authors to send them to pique their interest.

It's kind of like going through college applications again, except that 1) there is much more information required, and 2) you don't know what makes for a successful candidacy. With college applications, I could count on being admitted to at least one program, but with job and manuscript applications there's no such assurance. It's kind of like dating. You could be perfect on paper, so to speak, but if the other doesn't fall in love with you, it's a no-go.

Although my best efforts have been heretofore insufficient in gaining either employment or publication (or romance), my Monday night Trivia team is experiencing a pleasant period of success. Last week, we finished 2nd, and last night, we came in first. Which meant that my margarita both times was free. And I'm doing better at darts. Which is to say that I usually hit the board these days, rather than the floor, walls, or other players. We are all happy about this.

Sheesh

Enough with the catty comments from the relatives. Yes, I am a packrat, and a clumsy person, too. All the agent correspondence was via email (see? no paper rejection letter to hold onto), and there were no obvious "this is how you use this" directions on the lat machine (so I can be forgiven for pulling the bar behind my head, can't I?). Give a girl a break.

Wrecks of Various Types

I haven't had a car accident, thank God! But I did almost take off my own nose on Saturday evening. Susan had shooed me out the door when I said I was debating between taking a nap and working out, and I am glad she did--I spent 45 minutes on the Stairmaster, 30 on the exercise bike, and then another half an hour on a hybrid glute-buster apparatus that really worked up a sweat (not that I was bone-dry after my previous exertions). My legs having been toned, I went to the Lady Gold's room to work on my arms. The last machine was one with a bar that you could pull down either to your chest or to your shoulder blades, and after a couple of pulls to my back I decided to move to the front. And cut it a little close. The agony. I thought my nose might be broken, and was surprised when it didn't start pouring blood. You wouldn't think that a nose as small as mine could hurt so much. I think it's just badly bruised, though I couldn't breathe much through it when I went to bed last night. The internal swelling has since subsided, judging from the fact that I can now take in air without opening my mouth like a fish. Poor little nose.

After I slammed my schnoz (an incident nobody saw in person), I decided I'd exercised enough for one day, and so I grabbed my keys and waterbottle and headed out into the parking lot. Where I fell in a pothole. It was really more of a "pot-bowl" because the asphalt was sagging several inches down into a depression, rather than cracking. There was one witness to that graceful move, but at least he refrained from any snide remarks. I might have bitten his head off, otherwise. And choked to death on it, given my luck at the time.

Better providence awaited me at home, where Steven and Susan were (unbeknownst to me) preparing a five-star repast of stuffed salmon, garlic bread with rosemary, sauteed greens, and butternut squash. And wine. Oh, my. Our friend Amy came over at 7:30 and the four of us had a relaxed candlelit dinner, and then sat down to watch Star Wars, which Susan hadn't seen since she was about five.

This morning, I took Mr. B with me to early church. I think he was a little flustered by all the paper included with the bulletin (though it's less than previously, as now the weekly updates are distributed via email), and the large-print version of the order of service just added to the stack that he shuffled uncertainly. The collective responses may have thrown him a bit, too--although there's often an "amen corner" in small Bible churches, you don't find the unison reading of formally-worded confessions and professions which are dear to the hearts of Presbyterians. Still, he said he enjoyed it--he really paid attention to the sermon, and remarked afterwards that he liked the preacher--but he wasn't interested in attending Sunday School, so when the service let out we chatted with a few folks and then I took him home. And I went down for a nap. Susan got me up at 2 with the news that lunch was waiting--she and Steven had again produced a nice meal, this one of pork chops, rice, salad and ice cream. Ahhh. My nose would have twitched with pleasure if it weren't still throbbing.

Speaking of good food and wrecks, Amy and Susan and I drove up to Bethesda Thursday evening to attend the most-local stop on the CakeWrecks ("This time, it's personal") "World" Book Tour. We left home 30 minutes before the event started (GoogleMaps said it would take 21 to get there) and arrived half an hour late. There was an accident on the Key Bridge involving a GUTS bus. Jen and John, the authors of the CakeWrecks blog, are clever, friendly and funny in person, too--we got to hear the tail-end of the Q&A session. And then there was (of course!) free cake. And then the opportunity to meet the two of them. Susan and Amy, not being Wreckies, took themselves off to the bookstore cafe to wait for me, while I waited to be called into the Presence. Due to my tardiness, I was close to the back of the line, and given there were about 200 people there, and that Jen and John (kindly and appropriately) took time to talk to each one, it was pretty late before I was done.

Saturday was the first weekend since almost April that Anita and I were actually at the Arlington Market together. The gorgeous, sunny and cool weather didn't work in our favor, however, as all of the DC area seemed to be out walking, jogging, biking or hiking, but not shopping at our little market. We packed early, which meant that I was home in time for a late lunch, and had the luxury of deciding whether to nap or exercise. And you all nose the rest of the story.