Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Long Underwear

How's that for a title? Give me a break. . .it's not even 7 o'clock yet.

I got up early this morning to wash the load of clothes containing my long underwear, as the high today is in the 30's and my dress slacks are none-too-warm. Rather than go back to bed while they were washing, I made the responsible decision to type up the lesson plans I neglected to put on the official form over the weekend. Now that is finished, the washer is almost done, and there is no sense in me going back to bed for the 5 or so minutes before I need to put them in the dryer. Although, I should go cook some oatmeal for my breakfast, so I will be back momentarily. . . .

While that cooks (it's a mixture of real rolled oats and a seven-grain hot cereal, so it takes a few minutes), I will share an excerpt from a Dietrich Bonhoeffer devotional I was reading last night. I picked up a collection of Bonhoeffer's Christmas sermons a few weeks ago, in an effort to understand more of the Church celebration of Advent. The author uses Christmas and Advent somewhat interchangeably, but does understand the purpose of Advent, and the majority of the sermons thus far have penitent focus. To understand where I am picking up, first read Daniel 10:1-2, 8-9, 15-19. Without further delay, here is the excerpt with appropriate citation below:

Such a moment is strange to none of us, certainly not to any owho have seriously sought to live with God. When we are disturbed by the chaos in our own personal life, when we are not ready to face it, when again and again every security fails us and there is no firm ground under our feet, when our life hangs between good intentions and shame, when it becomes inevitably clear that we are weak, when some unmanageable fate comes over us, a great sorrow or a great passion and we are horrified at the inevitable working out of this fate, when we can see only how faithless and hopeless we are caught in our errors or when friendships are finally broken, when withthe best will in the world we cannot find reconciliation with the other, in short, when we take seriously the whole human chaos in which we are stuck--then it all comes over us and we say to God: Lord, I can bear no more. I can't take any more. No, I don't want any more. I am too deep in the mire. God', don't speak any more to me, for I will not hear you. God, we have nothing more to do with each other.
And then it happens that we want to hear something new and at that moment, we hear afresh: "Peace, courage." Courage, which God gives is like a mother taking hold of her child who is out of control with so many faults and failures, who is now very unhappy and begins to cry. She takes his hand and gives him a new chance: "Now, let's try that once more." Courage, courage--so God speaks to us when we are disgusted with ourselves.
And now what happened to Daniel can happen to us. His was a special occasion, which we today can understand as scarcely ever before. God says, "I will speak to you," but Daniel cannot hear. Can we? Is it not so with us, that in this unholy turmoil and helplessness, we say, "God go away!" Yes, we know it is stupid. But if you come, then it is all over. Untold anxiety, God's judgment on our people, on all we do. . .courage, courage! To what end? That we become stregthened men and women, who hear God's voice of judgment on our people and it will lead one day to a more obedient people and greater faith."
"Fragment of a Devotional Talk During Advent," December 1, 1932
taken from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Christmas Sermons, edited and translated by Edwin Robertson

I confess that I have often been guilty of this kind of attitude: the one that says to God, "Enough. I can't take any more. I can't talk to you or listen for you to talk to me. I am too weak." The second sentence in the first paragraph resonates with my own memories of these times. And at such times, I often feel like the child he describes, being gently but firmly told, "let's try this again." To what end? That we beome strengthened men and women, who hear God's voice of judgment on our people and it will lead one day to a more obedient people and greater faith.

Bishop Remington

The appearance of this quote--

I am wishing for you this day a happy Christmas. I would send you those gifts which are beyond price, outlast time, and bridge all space. I wish you all laughter, and pure joy, a merry heart and a clear conscience, and love. . . . I wish that the spirit of Christmastide may draw you into companionship with Him who giveth all.

--prompted a somewhat-involved Internet search for biographical information on Bishop Remington, to whom the quote is credited. I found numerous other citations of the same quote, or parts of the same quote, but information on the speaker is not forthcoming. Assuming that "Bishop" is his title, not his name, I believe it may be Bishop William P. Remington, Bishop of Eastern Oregon for the Episcopal Church during the early to mid 20th Century. Would anyone like to accept a challenge and see what else you could find?

In the process, I found this page of Christmas quotes, which I share in the spirit of the season.

Six minutes and counting. . .

Another Monday, another lunch period. . .which means my 2 most difficult classes are up next.

I've just enjoyed a handful of mixed nuts, a cup of yogurt, and a piece of fruit leather (read, "fruit roll-up with real fruit). Tonight, putting up our Christmas tree (FINALLY) and making biscotti. After a too-short weekend break, it seems that Christmas break can neither get here fast enough nor possibly be long enough to suffice.

My cousin had her baby last night. . .weighing in just under 10 pounds, and this from a girl who had never topped 120 before the pregnancy. All are safe, however, so that is good. His name is Logan.

My time is up. Fare thee well.

"Painting the Town Red"

This is an excerpt from my dear Yankee friend in honor of my favored scandalous red sheets. She neglected to tell me where it comes from, so you'll have to check the comments to know whom to credit. . .after she fills in the blank, of course.

He's talking about the idea of "painting the town red".

"But taking the case of ordinary pagan recklessness and pleasure seeking, it is, as we have said, well expressed in this image. First, because it conveys this notion of filling the world with one private folly; and secondly, becuase of the profound idea involved in the choice of colour. Red is the most joyful and dreadful thing in the physical universe; it is the fiercest note, it is the highest light, it is the place where the walls of this world of ours wear thinnest and something beyond burns through. It glows in the blood which sustains and in the fire which destroys us, in the roses of our romance and in the awful cup of our religion. It stands for all passionate happiness, as in faith or in first love.

"Now, the profligate is he who wishes to spread this crimson of conscious joy over everything; to have excitement at every moment; to paint everything red. He bursts a thousand barrels of wine to incarnadine the streets; and sometimes (in his last madness) he will butcher beassts and men to dip his gigantic brushes in their blood. For it marks the sacredness of red in nature, that it is secret even when it is ubiquitous, like blood in the human body, which is omnipresent, yet invisible. A s long as blood lives it is hidden; it is only dead blood that we see. But the ealier parts of the rake's progress are very natural and amusing. Painting hte town red is a delighful thing until it is done. It would be splendid to see the cross of St. Paul's as red as the cross of St. George, and the gallons of red paint running down the dome or dripping from the Nelson Column. But when it is done, when you have painted the town red, an extraordinary thing happnes. You cannot see any red at all.

"I can see, as in a sort of vision, the successful artist standing in the midst of that frighful city, hung on all sides with the scarlet of his shame. And then, when everything is red, he will long for a red rose in a green hedge and long in vain; he will dream of a red leaf and be unable even to imagine it. He has desecrated the divine colour, and he can no longer see it, though it is all around. I see him, a single black figure against the red-hot hell that he has kindled, where spires and turrets stand up like immobile flames: he is stiffened in a sort of agony of prayer. Then the mercy of Heaven is loosened, and I see one or two flakes of snow very slowly begin to fall."

It makes me think of one of my favorite lines from Macbeth: "Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red."

Which quote, in turn, reminds me that a "little yeast works through the whole batch of dough." To interpret on the flip side of usual, a splash of color, in the right place, brightens all of life. I stand by my beautiful red sheets.

Another Week Successfully Past

It's Friday, and I have 9 minutes to post.

This has actually not been a bad week, aside from the infuriating griping of a few particular students about the lack of respect THEY receive from teachers. That was hard to swallow. . .you'd understand if you knew the students. Otherwise, it has passed fairly quickly. We're 2 days into Julius Caesar, after a day of background reading. I actually had a mostly successful day getting students to read about Caesar from Suetonius, an ancient Roman writer. Very impressive.

This weekend: Christmas, coffee and biscotti, and the eternal grading. I haven't made lesson plans yet, either, but that should be relatively simple: Monday, read Caesar; Tuesday, read Caesar; Wednesday, read. . . . Well, not quite that simple, but close. There is still a lingering hope that I will be caught up on grading by Christmas break and have a whole 10 days to forget school exists. If my hope is thwarted, I may despair, but we'll cross that bridge if the river rises.

3 minutes to go.

The following quote was on my daily calendar yesterday. I found it amusing and offer it in the hope that you will, too.

Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like clearing the drive before it has stopped snowing.
(Phyllis Diller)

So long.

Turkey, Pumpkin Pie, and . . . Pot???

Greetings all.

As it has been some time since I last posted (per usual) and as much has happened in the interim, I'm tempted to jump right into a few random reminisces. However, I hate to prolong anyone's agony of suspense over my. . .unusual. . .title. On the other hand, postponing satisfaction will guarantee that you continue to read. So, first about MY Thanksgiving. . .which did NOT include any pot other than the metal kind you cook in.

(On a side note, Kevin just brought me a wonderful mug of homemade apple cider. I have discovered he has quite a talent for making it just right. . .very impressive.)

During the course of Thanksgiving week, I baked an 11 pound turkey, 3 pumpkin pies, 2 chess pies, and 2 batches of Pumpkin Nut biscotti. The turkey was fabulous, thanks to the modern invention of pop-up timers (in spite of which convenience our small group was duly impressed). The pumpkin pies (made, of course, with freshly steamed pumpkin) were delectable. The chess pies were oh-so-sweet, although most of the family liked them (I did not). The Pumpkin Nut biscotti, also, was a family hit (albeit my slight indifference; I did have great fun freshly grating the nutmeg to go in them. Have you ever seen the cross-section of a nutmeg? Pungently aromatic, it's laced with dark brown streaks - very pretty).

It was great to have all the family together again, emigrants and immigrants alike. We played games until the wee hours of the morning, and no one ever became cross, snippety, or umbrageous (That's my new word. Do you like it?)

We returned home Saturday evening, had a fairly lazy Sunday. . .during which I did far less work than I should have, considering that I did no school work the previous 4 days. . .and returned to normal activities yesterday. Other than being rather cold, school has gone well so far this week. Perhaps the break did everyone good. Nonetheless, I am looking forward to Christmas Break.

In our small group tonight we began a book by O. Palmer Robertson entitled The Christ of the Covenants. It promises to be deep and insightful, generating much discussion and exploration of related topics. I'm looking forward to continuing.

That is all my news, I suppose, except for the long-awaited explanation of my intriguing title:
At the end of the day yesterday, I was sitting at my desk with my classroom door still open. I heard a student in the hall laughingly telling a friend about her family's Thanksgiving. They apparently had a bonding session, sitting around smoking marijuana together. Hooray for healthy family traditions!


Oh, I can't end on that note. It's dismal. One last random tidbit. . .
this Saturday, my grandparents are coming up with their seniors group from church to visit some sites in Tulsa, after which they're coming over for coffee and biscotti. I'm terribly excited. . .I get to play hostess twice in 5 days this week! (Next week is our week to host our small group.) Biscotti is my new area of baking exploration. There are so many different kinds; they keep very well; they're not extremely difficult to make; they afford an excellent excuse to have gourmet coffee! I haven't chosen a recipe (out of my 50 Biscotti Recipes book) for this weekend yet. Perhaps I should try 2 varieties. . .to provide for people's differing tastes, of course. I need to get some real creamer (we usually use milk) and some sugar substitute. And I think I'll draft Kevin to make cider for the non-coffee drinkers. That should do it.

Okay, I'll quit. I really must do a little work before bed.

Not knowing when the dawn will come. . .

I open every door. (Emily Dickinson)

This quote was on my daily calendar today, and I liked it.

All in all, it wasn't a horrible day. There was a steady stream of annoyances that eventually added up to exhaustion and a headache, but no major crises. My grading is. . .not done. Progress reports are due tomorrow, so I need to be finishing that now. On the bright side, the Vo-tech people are giving presentations in all the 10th and 11th grade English classes tomorrow, so I should be able to get a lot of work done during the day. Perhaps my desk will even find its way to cleanliness!

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being selfish and need to be more ministry-minded. Then I open a literature book and see my name and person desecrated in the cover. Not to take it personally, it still makes me question why people do this. Then my better side argues back, declaring something about the longsuffering of God's servants through history. If service were always easy and pleasant, would it still be service? Does my discomfort and frequent distaste make my task less holy? Or, perhaps, more so?

I'm rebelling against my own better judgment. Let's pretend I didn't just make any of those arguments.

We're still shooting for a free weekend, followed by a free Thanksgiving Break. . .which means I should get busy and grade now. Perhaps that dawn Emily spoke of is just around the corner.

The prospect of endless catching up is not inspiring.

I didn't grade at all this weekend. I completed cursory lesson plans and finished a test key for something that should have been graded 3 weeks ago, but that's it. It would be a lovely sensation if it weren't Monday morning with all those ungraded papers now hanging over my head at the start of another week. The prospect of endless catching up is not inspiring.
Honestly, if my first priority is to make our home, and my current job substantially interferes with the fulfillment of that task, it is only logical to do one of two things: change my first priority or change my current job. Since I can't conscientiously change my first priority (and, besides that, don't in the least want to), the logical course of action is to change my current job. Right? At least, that's the way my obviously biased and perhaps currently not-so-rational rationale settles the issue. I have not, ashamed to say, made the matter one of serious prayer, so I should stop trying to rationalize what I want and just ask for open (or shut) doors and windows.
Well, as it is Monday morning whether I want it to be or not, and as my afternoon classes have a test scheduled today that does not yet exist, I must betake myself to test-writing.

P.S. - How many errors did you count in this post? I should not try to write before 7. . .either my fingers or my brain (or both) rebel.

Be such a woman

Be such a woman, live such a life, that if every eoman were such as you, and every life like yours, this earth would be a God's paradise.

This quote from Episocopal Bishop of Massachusetts Phillips Brooks is in my newest book. . .a book with a decidedly feminist perspective, above quote notwithstanding. Girl Sleuth: Nancy Drew and the Women Who Created Her traces the history of the Nancy Drew series from the man whose idea started the spark through the various women who have been Carolyn Keene over the years. I find it interesting, if somewhat amusing at points. The quote. . .I liked it, so I had to share.

Randomicities

Eight minutes left. . .

It's Wednesday of a 4 and 1/2 day week. . .much better than Wednesday of a 5 day week. Of course, I have to work Thursday evening, so it's really just a modified 5-day week. We have parent conferences tomorrow night and Friday morning, then we get Friday afternoon off. I'm planning a knit/crochet session with a friend who's on bed rest in the hospital.

I'm supposed to give my AP classes options for their research papers tomorrow. Oops. . .forgot to prepare that list. I guess I'll be doing that tonight. I hope I can come up with enough. Their papers are going to be researched argumentative essays, so I'm wanting topics that have to do with current events. I want these to force them to survey and research something about the world around them. Examples would be: Evolution v. Intelligent Design in the Science Classroom, America: Democracy or Republic?, Affirmative Action, etc. If you have any bright ideas--or not-so-bright-but-it-will-do ones--let me know. I have 20 students, so I need at least 25 ideas. Bah.

Down to three minutes. . .

I've almost finished the grades for the 1st 9 weeks that ended last Wednesday. Luckily, our high schools don't give 9-week report cards, or I'd be late. At least, I'd have been forced to pull some later-than-usual nights to finish them by a deadline. The grades are looking better than they did at progress report time, but not too great in general. For that, however, I refuse to accept responsibility. I cannot force people to turn in assignments.

Time's almost up. I must go open my door to the populace.

Two in a Day! And Two Days in a Row!

I figure the other one doesn't really count, so. . .

It's Wednesday, and this week is officially more than half over. It is Wednesday, right? I lose track. Today I'm staying after school to grade papers, clean my desk, and prepare for tomorrow. . .then (ideally) I won't take anything home. We'll see if it happens that way.

My days are looking up. Most of my classes are falling into line, and I'm feeling more organized and more prepared than I did the first few weeks. I still don't want to get up in the morning, and I still don't want to come to school most days, but it is at least livable (and maybe even enjoyable) once I'm here.

I've come to a new realization this week that what our society has done in allowing women into the mainstream workforce is not only "allowing equal opportunities" or "sharing the work," but quite literally created new and additional chores. It's not as if working women replace the work they would otherwise do at home with a paying job. They add the career on top of the work that is required at home. What logic is there in doubling one person's work load and then being surprised when both spouses (spice?) are stressed and overworked, as is true for many American households today? No wonder people feel like they can't keep up. More money does not equal more time. In fact, it may often equal less. "Time is of the essence" has a whole new meaning in our two-paycheck-family world.

Only 70?

We're not talking about years, but posts. My dashboard says I only have 70 posts. Is that a pitifully low number, considering the length of time this blog has existed? How many posts do YOU have?

To Quiet My Conscience

So I'm feeling guilty. So I haven't posted in. . .how many days? So I got a ShinyStats e-mail yesterday notifying me of faithful would-be readers. So I post.

It's sad, really. I come up with all these great post titles during the day, when I can't post. By the time evening comes around and I can post, I've either forgotten the great titles (and therefore lost my motivation) or am too tired to feel like typing something cheerfully newsy. Last night my great post title was "Hungry Husbands and Weary Wives." Great, because it's alliterative. I wasn't so much weary--although Kevin was hungry--as just tired. Weary implies more long-term tiredness, exhaustion, and apathy fueled by lack of energy. So maybe it wasn't such a great title. But it sounded good.

Today all my classes are taking tests, and it's wonderfully quiet. . .relatively speaking, of course. It gives me time to grade, at least, although I have to leave in about 30 minutes for a workshop having something to do with preparing 10th graders to take the state writing test. Blah. And I could be grading!!! Maybe I'll take it with me. . .I wonder how conspicuous that would be.

Students return from lunch in 1 minute. Gotta go!

Succumbing to Peer Pressure

In response to complaints and wishes for my uninspiring prattle, I blog.

I confess it has been too long since I opened this page. However, the truth is I haven't been enjoying an overly positive outlook on life. That bad week I wrote of before seems to be prolonging itself, indefinitely. School, on the best days, is trying. I consistently feel sapped of energy and enthusiasm, and not just for school. Behavior continues to be a serious problem; a day with only 1 fight in the school is a good day. A day where I only write referrals for students who have too many tardies or don't wear their IDs is a really good day. I have called numerous parents, written too-numerous referrals, and have gone almost completely gray. (Okay, so the last part isn't true. Does it get me any sympathy? I'm only 23!) I keep injuring my fingers, too: a paper cut here, a scraped knuckle there, a burn blister from cutting hot peppers. My AP class tells me I need to slow down. They don't understand why I always have a band-aid somewhere on one of my hands. (Speaking of band-aids, I've almost run out. . .and I don't have kids to use them up!)

Last week started off badly, but was better by the end of the week. Hopefully this week will be the same. Most of it is just stress and an overwhelming number of things to do (which is why laundry is piled high in my closet), combined with lack of energy to prepare any real meals. However, I did pre-cook some meat this weekend, so I can probably start cooking again. K is gone for a business trip to DC for the next 2 days, and I'm hoping to get caught up on grading and cleaning while he's out. Then we go to OKC for him to get his wisdom teeth taken out, and then Amanda is coming to stay with us for a couple nights during her Fall Break. Then I get Fall Break(!!!) and a birthday. In other news, my mom is back home. Brian still doesn't have a mode of transportation; Insurance wants to total his truck. And my class is returning from lunch, so I must go.

Farewell.

The Never-Ending Week

. . .but wait, it's over. So all things DO come to an end, good or not. Let's run over a synopsis of this week. . .

Monday - I stayed home with a hoarse voice and a sore throat. I didn't feel like trying to control my 144 students without a working voice.

Tuesday - My day begins at 3:30 am when Brian calls to say he's run his truck into a tree. For the next 3 hours, I help him get a wrecker, etc. About 6:30 I come home for a fitful 45-minute nap before I get up and go to school. First hour is. . .horrible. My voice is still weak, I'm still coughing a bit, and I'm exhausted. My class is all attitude and talk. I finally resort to calling an administrator down, because they refuse to listen to me at all. The middle of the school day is better, and the last couple of hours are difficult again. I arrive home in time to go get dinner before we attend our weekly small group meeting. My mom calls as I'm about to go to bed around 10, and I finally crash around 11 pm. . .having been awake for almost 20 hours.

Wednesday - I do not want to get up. My throat is no better and is in fact starting to feel worse. However, I make it to school. First hour is not improved. I wind up writing one referral when an angry student threatens me and calling a couple parents of other students with severe attitude problems. The rest of the day is not too bad, although the last 2 hours are, as usual, difficult. I leave quickly after school to take Brian to work, then go to sleep in the living room at 7. At 9, I get up and go to bed. My throat is definitely worse, and my cough syrup (as if it were helping anyway) is almost gone.

Thursday - First hour is a little better today. They're starting to catch on. My throat is killing me, and I'm trying to decide if I can miss school again on Friday. The day progresses with little incident until 6th hour. I'm trying to get my oversized class's attentiont to actually teach when I realize 2 of my students are actually yelling at each other. Trying to calm them down, there is suddenly a sharp pain in my head and a shower of Mountain Dew over the rest of me. Apparently, one of the angry students decided to pelt a pop bottle at the other one and had very unlucky aim. Several other students clean up the mess while I get Security to escort Angry Students out. Class continues, with 2 students telling me how much they now respect me, apparently because I didn't join the fight and start throwing punches when I got. . .baptized. If only I'd known their respect was so easy to earn. . . .
I'm rather in shock from this whole occurrence and don't know quite what to think. I've decided some absurdities are indeed too absurd to even be laughed at. There are already several teachers out on Friday, so I guess I've got one more day to go.

Friday - My voice is almost gone. My head is bruised and sore to the touch. I have to spend my planning period filling out staff injury forms with the nurse. We survive the whole day with me maintaining as much control as possible. Mostly, it's not too bad. Several students are sorry I feel bad, hope I get better, etc., etc. One in 7th hour asks me if I can speak up more. Ha.
Once home, I become mute. Kevin reads my mind amazingly well. . .apprently I don't need to talk much anyway. After dinner, we experiment with a tiramisu recipe. It has to be refrigerated at least 4 hours, so I'll let you know later how it turns out.

That's my week in a nutshell. How many weeks of school do we have left???

Just a Tidbit

Friday is almost half-over. I might make it.

My throat is still rather sore, which makes talking (read: "yelling loud enough to be heard over a roomful of teenagers) painful. I'm also sounding rather hoarse. Only 4 classes left to go.

I'm afraid I have no amusing anecdotes to relate today. However, I will report that Kevin helped me plant my herb garden last night. Now if it will only live. I'll try to post a picture later. . .if I remember.

Please Yield

I was going to spoof a student-made sign I passed in the hall today which contains a large yellow diamond with the letters YIED on it. However, I decided I should not just take my lunchtime opportunity to ridicule people every day. So, on the bright side of things, allow me to share some encouraging news. My AP class today mostly agreed that profanity in public is disrespectful, rude, careless, and indicative of poor vocabulary and widespread poor public education. Hoorah for them!

As for other matters, I have none. My throat is feeling slightly sore, which I hope is from reading aloud to 5 classes yesterday and not from the beginnings of an illness. I have not talked to Brian since the weekend, since he inadvertently got "pushed" into the pool with his active cell phone in his pocket. (He doesn't have a landline, so I guess I'll have to go visit him if I want to know how he is.) Kevin scheduled an appointment for wisdom-teeth extraction in October, so I am set to enjoy my last month of wise wedded bliss. . .after this we'll just be foolish together, I suppose. (Why are they called "wisdom teeth" anyway?) My classes are still completely imbalanced, but there is a ray of light somewhere ahead, and I'm hoping they will be balanced by the end of next week. (That's only 4 weeks into the school year. . .way to safeguard instructional time!) I left for work without my rings this morning and had to go back to get them. (Of course, I wasn't out of the parking garage yet, so it wasn't actually far to "go back.") I'm supposed to start a novel with the AP class tomorrow. . .and haven't chosen one or, obviously, prepared any background notes. Oops. (Shall we go with "Brave New World?") Tonight is date night, so I'm not likely to get much of anything done for school.

Well, I still have 7 minutes of lunchtime quiet left, so I'm going to do something productive. . .like staple $*#%@! profanity assignments together. . .hee hee.

A Lunch Post???

Yes, indeed, I am still here. Perhaps I shall endeavor to post briefly at lunch. . .although today I only have 2 minutes left, so it shall necessarily be short.

I am in the process of making copies of articles that have to do with profanity, free speech, and offensive language. This is my new disciplinary plan for profanity in my classroom: read the article, answer the questions I assign. We'll see how it works. If you come across any articles. . .I'm sure to run out soon!

Time's up. Tomorrow, perhaps.

For the word lovers. . .

There is a wonderfully entertaining site of international tongue twisters, indexed by language.

On Countdown

In an effort to actually finish the books I'm reading, I'm trying to narrow down my current reading list BEFORE school starts, when I undoubtedly will forget I ever read or was reading anything. To that end, I finished Literary Feuds last night. I have to say that, while I had some difficulty paying attention at times, I am pleasantly surprised with the book as a whole. It's the kind of random, trivial information you only get from being a well-read and educated person. . .not to say that I overly qualify for either of those adjectives. The author seems to write from a moral perspective, sometimes mildly scolding the feuding authors for their below-the-belt digs. He also seems very fair, citing both positive and negative about all authors discussed. Without the knowledge to judge the validity of his points, I would nonetheless say that he appears to have a well-balanced perspective. It's a good "broadening-your-spectrum-of-knowledge" book.