The game starts again from the beginning. The end is always another beginning.
This nightmare of eternity in time, this is our fate. -Margarita Karapanou (Rien ne va plus)
It's strange to think that this series of posts has been going on now for seven weeks. There's a small part of me that wants to resist counting the passage of time because it makes me all the more aware not only of what I've failed to accomplish, but also of how quickly the academic year is flying by. The goal of this series, after all, was to keep up the blog while also working on the dissertation. I've certainly been crossing (however slowly) things off the list--article revision, conference paper, teaching--but the main task, writing chapters three and four, has yet to come to fruition. It's not for lack of trying, either.
I'm currently in the midst of The Great Grading Lockdown, Part II. I've graded more than a third of the essays, but the slowness of the process never fails to amaze me. It's partly because I feel compelled to mark every misplaced modifier as if I'm on some divine grammatical mission to cleanse the world of wrongly emphasized sentences; also, it's because I'm also still ridiculously under the weather and coughing up a storm. In fact, due to this convalescence (almost reminiscent of the one from the spring; please tell me this won't become a seasonal thing), most of the pictures in this post are from last weekend's brunch trip to the Catalan tapas bar, Barlata, in Oakland, when I still had an appetite and wanted to eat everything from a cheese plate to Crema Catalana. Last weekend already seems like an example of a simpler time.
It's funny to confess this, but back when we got Elektra in August, I had this grand fantasy, after reading a few articles about how happy and healthy dog owners were, that she would bolster my immune system and I'd never have to worry about having the sniffles again (yes, I am naive, very naive in fact, although I like to think of it as optimistic). Lo and behold, another scientific study has disappointed me by proving itself to be wrong. As you can see from the photo above, forget immune system support; all I get is attitude.
Besides grading some papers, this weekend has been the epitome of quiet. I've largely pottered around the apartment, saving my energy for the upcoming week. I even, both with and without the help of Daylight Savings Time, slept until 9 a.m. twice in a row, something that hasn't happened around here since mid-August (also, thank you, Nyquil). I would, however, be misleading you all if I didn't confess that I also discovered a recipe for Pumpkin Fatayer, courtesy of Luisa, The Wednesday Chef, which she, in turn, found in the Moro Cookbook. These little pockets of dough essentially contain my dream combination: pureed squash, pine nuts, feta cheese and oregano. I could eat them everyday and, honestly, if the CSA keeps giving us squash, I very well may do so.
I also tried another recipe from this book, courtesy of another online source (the subject of my next post) and I now covet this book because I truly believe it's the cookbook I've been waiting for my whole life. To be fair, though, I feel that way about each and every cookbook (and book) that I own. Such is the fate of a bibliophile.