Again with the 2 a.m.

. . .and the 11:14 p.m., and the 11:48 p.m., and the 12:10 a.m., and the 1:18 a.m. In these terms, you could say Lucas is a morning person.

The dog is not appreciating being chased by a crawling babe at 1:49 a.m. And yet we are up.

Lucas does not want to sleep anywhere but next to me in our bed. Mr. Trillwing can't sleep under these circumstances because Luke flails.

Mr. Trillwing needs sleep. And, in the hopes of letting me get the most sleep possible before my job interview, he spent last night on the couch while Luke slept/flailed next to me.

So tonight we've been taking turns with the little guy. It's my turn again. Ten minutes ago I noticed Luke has a fever, to the tune of 102.3. So I administered acetominophen. And now he's pushing his Elmo monster truck and making car noises. (I've learned, BTW, that little boys come hard-wired with, as no one has ever taught him to make such noises.) So I'm guessing the fever has gone down.

I've tried to explain to Luke that he's a year old and that, like a big boy, he needs to sleep in his crib.* He's not buying that argument.

Mr. Trillwing has twice now shouted "Fireplacer!" at the boy. From behind the bedroom door: "Fireplacer!"

I don't know what the fireplace we're going to do.

Damn. Luke just pulled himself up next to me, and he's still burning up.



*What does one do when one's one-year-old is already 32 inches tall,** and the baby books and crib manuals declare that no child over 35 inches tall should remain in a crib because he could fall out of it? I mean, it's not like Luke's going to climb down safely from his crib after leaning too far over the railing; he can't even walk yet because hey, it's much more efficient to chase the dog on all fours. And I'm not about to put him in a twin bed, even with rails on it, 'cause he wouldn't stay in it.

**Have I mentioned that at Luke's 12-month well-baby check up, he surpassed the 95th percentile for height but was in the middle of the pack for weight? I've taken to calling him "Stretch."

Suiting up

Today's the big interview day. Yesterday was interesting and kind of fun, despite the fact that I spent seven hours or so with my competition for The Big Job.

First event at the rendezvous site was the information that the tour would be 5-6 hours long, not the two one of the (very mistaken) people who set up the interview told me it would be. So I called up the fabulous administrative person for my department, who delivered copies of the final exams to my students, who I imagine were delighted with the news that instead of taking a two-hour bluebook exam, would be allowed to e-mail me their responses within an eight-hour timeframe. Yay for adminstrative assistants! Ours ROCKS.

Once I had put out that fire, we took a tour of a few of the facilities related to the job. First stop was the fantabulous Historic City Cemetery, which has murder, suicide, and scandal, er, planted everywhere, as well as some kickass tombstones that are much older than most in this state. (Yes, Jeff, I know we have nothing on Matherworlde.) Bonus: Alexander Hamilton's son is buried there, as well as a couple veterans of the war of 1812. Old stuff for these parts!

Second stop was lunch at a really nice restaurant I had never heard of. Yummy Mediterranean vegetable ravioli!

Third stop was a 28-acre National Register of Historic Places site that's also a major retail site. One challenge of the job is apparently keeping all the property owners and merchants in line with the historic guidelines. Sign ordinance angst, anyone?

Fourth stop was the history museum in this same place. It's in need of renovation; it feels a bit schizophrenic, but it has a lot of promise, and its outreach programs look solid.

Fifth stop, after a couple hours' break, was dinner at Trendy Asian Bistro. We met with Director of Important Department, the nominal supervisor for the position, and County Guy who's feeling angsty over the current county strike because he's at heart a union man but for now is just The Man. Dinner was pleasant.

It's clear (which I figured even before I met my competition) that I'm not the frontrunner. There's an inside candidate who has worked directly under the incumbent for a decade, as well as an outside candidate who has known, and worked on several occasions with, the incumbent for many years.

Accordingly, I'm going to go in today, write my response to the given scenario, and place myself before the TWO interview panels (a total of 11 people), but with no real expectation of success. I figure I have an inch-high stack of academic positions to apply for before I get desperate.

Still, I would LOVE to have this job. We walked into the storage facility for the city archives yesterday and they have a massive collection of stuff as well, everything from a Victorian hallstand to an entire apartment from a demolished building--from its floor tiles to its kitchen sink to its Murphy bed. I couldn't wipe the dorky, open-mouthed smile off my face. They also have a 150-year-old giant grasshopper marinating in alcohol. They said that was their most unusual object. It was, of course, my favorite. Their collection of signs was pretty impressive, too. Yes, I'm a total whore for material culture. Hello, my name is trillwing, and I want to be a public historian.

I'm donning my million-dollar suit from Nordstrom--I'll get Mr. Trillwing to take a photo and I'll post it later.

Then home again to finish grading. Back to real life!

Big day(s) ahead

9:00 a.m.: leave apartment and drive into neighboring city.

9:35 a.m.: drop off random documents for Mr. Trillwing.

9:50: park car in light industrial office park. Take several deep breaths.

10:00 a.m.: begin bus tour of facilities related to job for which I'm interviewing. Other candidates will be aboard. Stops to include, I believe, the old city cemetery as well as other historic sites.

1 p.m.(ish): return home; change into clothes for evening interview activity.

2:00 p.m.: administer final exam for summer session II course. Spend the two hours of the exam finishing up grading student work.

4:00 p.m.: conclude exam and drive back into neighboring city.

5:30 p.m.: dinner with other job candidates, prospective supervisor (director of important city department), and "other key decision makers."

later that evening: return home, dive into books on regional history to prep for next day's interview, which consists of a written exercise, presentation of exercise to first panel, then a second interview panel.


I'm actually very excited about all this.

Current nagging thought: Where are those nylons that approximate my skin tone? Grrrrr.

Bleah

You know, everyone told me turning in the dissertation would be anticlimactic, but I haven't found it so. I'm enjoying this time.

In my final week of dissertation work, my worry was not so much an impending emotional let-down. Instead, I figured my post-dissertation days would usher in a series of illnesses the likes of which I haven't seen for awhile. See, when I relax after great stress, it's as if my immune system runs up a white flag and throws open its borders.

So tonight it hit. Let's call this Round 1 in what I'm sure will be a knock-trillwing-down, drag-'er-out fight. I'm feeling. . . I dunno. It's kind of a cross between morning sickness and stomach flu, with a bit of flashy vision stuff thrown in for good measure.

In other words, I'm feeling thyroidy--both hyper- and hypothyroid, if that makes any sense at all. See, I've been both.

Good times. Good times.

Of course, I promised my students I'd have grades posted by 10 p.m. That's not going to happen, as I'm going to bed soon as I finish typing this.

Bastard immune system. It probably resents me for believing it works in the cuddly "Danger Model" proposed by Polly Matzinger, in which newcomers to the system are allowed to hang out until they pose a danger. You know, a community-based model instead of a shoot-'em-up, Atari version with little T-cell spaceships like they used to print in TIME magazine in the late 80s when they were trying to explain AIDS. My immune system prefers, I think, the sci-fi model and resents my feminist intrusion.

Yep. Definitely losing my sharpness of mind. Time to sleep!

Turned it in

Turned in the diss, finally.*


* This post is brought to you by:

• the workhorse Epson C82 printer
• Epson print cartridges
• Southworth Credentials Collection Diamond White paper (20 lb., 25% cotton bond, acid- and lignin-free)
• Apple's iBook G4

. . .and by the letters P, H, and D.

Random thoughts o' 3 a.m.

This time last year I was still riding the epidural. The midwife would turn it down around 11 a.m., a half hour into pushing.

Three hours into pushing, with the epidural completely off and me pretty much exhausted, she asked, "Do you want this baby? Do you want this baby?"

At that point, I wasn't so sure.

* * *

I had no idea what I was up against. Do any new parents?

Right now it's Lucas's birthday, 3:24 a.m. He's in his high chair, eating a piece of wheat bread.

Yeah, I know.

* * *

Fang Bastardson has a nice piece on surviving the first year of parenthood.

His diaper-changing breathing trick really works, if you can master it.

* * *

Today's to-do list:

• laundry
• groceries
• belated birthday gift for Grandma (yeah, I know)
• pay bills
• grade papers
• bake/frost cake
• make living room presentable for Luke's little party
• prep for tomorrow's class (100 pages to read)
• write final exam questions
• come up with next student blog assignment
• photocopy dissertation and title page
• pack for trip to see my parents
• order action figure variants for Mr. Trillwing
• write 2-3 job letters

Piece of cake, eh?

* * *

Have I mentioned it's 3:30 a.m.? Luke and I have been up since 2 a.m.

I'm tired. Luke is tired but doesn't get that being tired means he should sleep.

Welcome to toddlerhood.

I mean, damn.

It is finished.




Mr. Trillwing is weeping.





(Printing shall commence tomorrow morning, during which time everyone is invited for margaritas.)

Dissertation abstract

For the curious:

To Study, to Control, and to Love: Women Scientists in American Natural History Institutions, 1880-1950

Between 1880 and 1950, women entered American natural history institutions in significant numbers. In herbaria, natural history museums, arboreta, botanical gardens, and related institutions, women participated as patrons, curators, volunteers, club members, and in other significant roles. In fact, women managed collections and held high-ranking curatorial positions for several decades at institutions across the United States. However, despite their success, these women’s contributions are largely absent from the historiography of science and completely absent from science studies scholarship.

This dissertation does not merely recuperate and celebrate their lives, but rather uncovers patterns and discontinuities in their experiences as naturalists. Their experiences, taken collectively, provide us with a new context in which to comprehend the processes by which people came to understand varieties of “science” and the dissemination of scientific knowledge at the end of the nineteenth and during the first half of the twentieth century. These women found themselves ensconced in a matrix not only of research scientists, but of interested laypeople and supporters. Their founding of and participation in a broad spectrum of organizations provided the women with new spaces to showcase their expertise and, by extension, to recruit more women to pursue or otherwise support natural science.

Although most of the scientists discussed in this study were successful when measured by the standards of their disciplines, I argue that their greatest long-term contributions to science may have occurred outside the walls of their institutions. These women’s disciplinary contributions are eclipsed by their success in democratizing science through outreach activities. In spaces outside the museum, the women were allowed to experiment with the full range of their humanity, acting as both women and scientists in ways they may not have been allowed to do so inside their museums. In their lasting contributions to science—namely in their dedication to increasing the public understanding of science—women scientists were often more successful as women scientists rather than as women scientists.


Bloggy addendum

The primary women discussed in this dissertation include:

• California Academy of Sciences botanist Alice Eastwood
• Smithsonian carcinologist Mary Jane Rathbun
• Freelance naturalist and taxidermist Martha Maxwell
• Smithsonian agrostologist Agnes Chase
• Smithsonian herpetologist Doris Mable Cochran
• Rancho Santa Ana Botanic Garden founder Susana Bixby Bryant
• Field collector and UC Berkeley museum founded Annie Alexander
• San Diego Zoo director Belle Benchley
  

Women I hope to consider in the near future:

• California Academy of Sciences ichthyologist Rosa Smith Eigenmann
• California Academy of Sciences botanist Katharine Brandegee
• Smithsonian entomologist Doris Holmes Blake
• Smithsonian mammalogist Viola Schantz
• Entrepreneurial collector Ynes Mexia
  
• and many, many others
  

BTW, if you're interested in women in museums, you should also check out the blog The Museum Detective. Good stuff there!

A year ago: Labor Day(s) weekend

There were tomatoes spilled at the sides of the highways.

New Orleans was flooded.

I went into labor on Friday. Luke wouldn't be born until Monday.



Little bastard.

Random Bullets of Huh-Huh-Huh--with BONUS questions about teaching and dissertation printing

"Huh-huh-huh"--spoken in triplet rhythm--was my late grandfather's way of saying "dog crap." For example, gesturing at the grass: "Watch out for the huh-huh-huh."

On dissertating:

• The dissertation is complete except for the bibliography and abstract. The abstract is killing me. After writing 230 pages, I can't pull together 350 words. Why is that?
• My university requires us to fill out approximately 456 forms to turn in with the dissertation. Again, I ask, why?
  
• Writing the acknowledgements section was anticlimactic.
• Any advice on ordering bound dissertations? The ones from UMI are damn expensive and not terribly attractive. Should I just get bound copies elsewhere? Maybe do a private printing at Lulu?
  

On childrearing:

• Lucas is almost walking.
• Lucas loves to play with sunlight and shadow.
• Lucas is babbling almost nonstop. It cracks me up, his constant commentary.

On teaching:

• It's tough to teach an intro American Studies class in only 10 class meetings. Don't try it at home.
• I'm relieved that in the fall when I teach this course again, I'll have 20 class meetings, plus TA sections.
• I'm regretting ordering 40 copies of Starship Troopers for my 1950s class without first reading the novel. Analyses of it made it sound so cool, and now. . . Well, now I have a book I don't think most students will read. But forge on I will! Oh yes, I will punish them as I am punishing myself by reading every. single. word. of the Heinlein masterpiece.
  
• Also on the docket for the 1950s course: Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique, and Holy Land by D. J. Waldie. Any suggestions on what I should lecture on to supplement these books, besides suburbs, housewives, and African Americans? Also: How difficult do you think it would be for my students to find women who were 18 years old by, say, 1955? I'd like them to interview such women after reading Friedan's book.

On Nordstrom (aka "Bait and Switch"):

• Looking for a suit or two for my two-day, three-part job interview, I first went into Macy's, but their suit selection was craptastic, so I ventured into Nordstrom.
• I was checking out a nice jacket/slacks pairing when the salesperson approached me to help. She ushered me into the dressing room with the $400 worth of clothes I had chosen--jacket, pants, blouse.
• The pants didn't fit, and they didn't have any others my size.
• Saleswoman returned with a couple of gorgeous suits. One of them fit beautifully, as if the jacket had been tailored to fit me.
• I checked the price tags and just about fainted.
• I asked myself: "Sofa or suit?" Job interview won out over living room.
• Bought shoes to match suit, had pants tailored--for the first time in my life--to fit. Because I paid full price for the clothes, tailoring was free, thank FSM.

On the upcoming job interview:

Day 1:

• Part I : bus tour of historic sites in the city--with other job candidates.
• Part II: dinner with director of leisure bureau--and other job candidates.

Day 2:

• Part III: writing test.
• Part IV: presentation of written material to interview panel #1.
• Part V: interview by panel #2.
• Part VI: trillwing goes home and faints (after carefully hanging up ridiculously expensive suit).

On local warming:

• Our energy bill for August was half the amount of July's.
• July sucked.

That is all.