"Africa is, indeed, coming into fashion." - Horace Walpole (1774)


unlock my body and move myself to dance

Well. In the how-much-worse-can-it-get category, today the plan was to finish the latest incarnation of my proposal and get the committee to set a date for the big defense. The plan fell out the window around 9:50am, however, when I received an email from committee member #3. From the courthouse. Because he's been summoned for jury duty. This week.

And now my advisor wants my dissertation to involve 180 pages of case material. One hundred and eighty pages. Written by me. That's before the analysis and theory (eg, the only part that anyone actually reads). I had expected that my dissertation would be about 220 pages altogether.

So, out went the plan, I braved the wind to head to UT to get a just-in-case prescription for Cipro (the wonder drug that kills almost everything Africa can throw at you), drop $250 on anti-malarials, and over to the spa to get a massage to get rid of some of this tension. I now have full range of motion in my neck, no progress whatsoever on my proposal, and approximately four hours to get a speech together to give to the WMU tonight. (For those of you lucky enough to have not grown up Baptist, the WMU is the Woman's Missionary Union. At my church, it's the little old ladies' group to whom it's impossible to say no. They're wonderful women and I don't really know why they want me to talk about the Congo given that I'm not a missionary, but I'm sure it will be a delightful evening.)

Oh, and in a very surprising ruling, the Supreme Court upheld the Oregon assisted suicide law. I's kindof surprised by the number of concurring justices (6-3), but, hey, if Ashcroft lost the case, it was probably a good ruling.


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