Tutoring Update (2 of 2): New Students.

The one philosophy ph.d. student from a different university who I tutored a few times to help him catch up after his mom died is hiring me all summer, so that with him I can help him get through the remaining chapters of the grammar and he can be reading texts by end of the summer (and the remaining semester of grammar, which he'll take in the fall, will just be review).

We're renegotiating prices because so many sessions will be costly for him, but that's fine with me - I'd enjoy the consistent money, and the chance to read Epictetus or Plato with him by August!

I also have 2 inquiries from people who want to start learning Latin, and so I'm going to see if I can guide them in self-studying through a Latin textbook, as I'm doing now with someone.  I'm pushing them off till the beginning of June, though, because of a dissertation chapter deadline and my Hebrew class finishing up.

Tutoring Update (1 of 2): Old Student.

Because my one student who's a practicing lawyer and studies Latin is interested in Thomas Aquinas and theories of (natural) law, I asked this one professor of classical philosophy I know for recommendations on Roman works on the subject.

She recommended Cicero's "De Legibus" as the go-to work, so I checked a copy out of the library and looked at it a bit, and it's super appropriate, since Cicero discusses the idea of a universal law, albeit one disguised by the present customs of nations.

I texted my one student to let him know that I found a book I think he would like and would read a lot out of it, and asked him if I should get a copy and save the receipt, and he said just to go get it for him!

He really trusts me...  My parents said that I do a good job, and people would be hard-pressed to find as dedicated a tutor as me.

Gym problems!

The other week I was at the gym, and after my workout I took off my shirt when I was changing in the locker room, and I noticed that one armpit smelled really bad...  I must have forgotten to put on deodorant in that one.

Also, when I took out my water bottle to fill it on my way out, I smelled something skunky, and wondered if someone had something funky around.

Later, I realized that the plastic bag I had carried my lunch in must have been leaked on by the tupperware, and the butter in my pasta's butter-oil sauce went rancid.

My mother's new obsession.

The other week I called my mother on my birthday, and it turns out that she caught a bit of the 5th season of "Madmen" on TV, and she liked it so much that she saw if the local library had DVDs of the show, and since they did, she checked out the first few season and went on like a 5-6 day binge in which she watched episode upon episode as long as she good.

"It's so good!", she was like.  "There's really good writing, and I like the history in it."

She said she liked how they showed the role of women in the workplace, and how people reacted to the JFK assassination, but most of all she likes their eye for detail, and she swears that the writers must have grown up during the era.

Her all-time favorite part was where some people were having a party, and they had the kids run around and get them drinks.  My mom says that she still remembers my grandparents having parties in their garage and people asking her and my uncle to go run and get them a beer, and how at my uncle's First Communion Party, they were all dressed and sitting in the small living room of the house my grandma used to have, and someone had my uncle go run and get them a beer too.

I feel like a jackass.

Since I've been doing my ph.d., I've been taking advantage of cheap student tix to the opera and free classical music in the park downtown during the summer.

(Growing up where I did, I really value this kind of stuff, and it makes me wince to hear people trash the free classical music festival orchestra, because it's still damned good, even it's not the same as the city's professional orchestra.)

So, a few weekends ago, I went with friends to Shostakovich's "Moscow, Cheryomushki", which is a comic opera about Krushchov-era housing policies.  It was quite enjoyable, even though the libretto was translated into a stilted English, but then at the end of one fantasy ballet scene, I thought I recognized a version of the final chords of Stravinsky's "Firebird", and I felt like such an asshole for being in on the reference.

Then, later that night, when I was home and reading through the program, I read that Shostakovich quoted a lot of famous Russian classical music in the score, and I realized I must have been right...

I feel like I can't discuss stuff like that with people, for fear of being an asshole.

In any case, it's reminded me that forever now I've wanted to read a biography of Shostakovich.  I might check one out, right after I finish the books I'm reading now.  I'd be interested to hear about his life and his interactions with the government and Soviet arts policy.

Quilting Madness (2 of 2): Contagion.

My one friend from home who I get rides south with likes my mom's quilting, so when she picked me up, I had her go see all the quilts.

"I love them!", she kept saying when she was there, and after we left, every once in a while she said, "I love your mom's quilts!"

Anyhow, like a few weeks later, she texts me on a Sunday morning to tell me that she was inspired and had been quilting all weekend and to let my mom know. 

I did, and then texted her back to tell her that, and ask her what she was working on.

She said a flannel quilt for a friend's baby, and so I texted her back to remind her to take all the needles out.

Quilting Madness (1 of 2): Pile.

When I was home over Easter, before I went in my room, my mom was like, "Just so you know, that pile on the floor is quilts, I had been keeping them in your room."

I found that odd, since she's kept a few quilts layed out on my bed before and then put them on the floor when I'm home, and I've always known what that was, so I just chalked that up to an over-conscientious mom.

Then, later that night, I went in my room, and there was honestly the biggest pile I've ever seen, like the size of 5-6 stuffed trashbags heaped up, all covered with an old sheets...  That's how many quilts my mom has made (or at least that's a lot of them - some weren't in that pile!).

"Wow, Mom," I was like, "That could be a dead body under there!  I didn't expect that much."

"I told you I had a pile," she was like.