Now Playing: Jars of Clay, "The Shelter," "Lay It Down."

18 February 2011. Up this morning with that feeling of disorientation, but I dreamed that someone was singing “The Lord will light my candle so…,” which helped make getting out of bed not quite as daunting. Ate breakfast with Lisa; we sat and talked about Worldliness, the book she’s reading right now. Beth decided to cancel L629 reading group this morning, so I got to have a nice long quiet time before I left for campus. 

IU hosted a “Preparing Future Faculty” conference today, and I went to two of the talks, one at eleven about preparing for the job market and one at two about creating a record of research, teaching, and service. The conference was in the IMU Solarium, an attachment at the back of the IMU, a big nondescript room that opens off the alumni hall. The talks were actually reassuring: it was good to have some clearer ideas about what to expect when going on the job market and about what to do in the meantime (part of the reassurance might also have been the realization that grad school takes a lot of time, and I have several years before I have to worry about this for real!). 

Between the talks I met Mary for lunch at the Sample Gates. The noon was clear with an intense sun and a strong northwest wind. Despite the sun it was actually rather chilly, but no one seemed to mind; a holiday mood pervaded downtown. We walked down to Bloomington Bagel Company and had bagels with smoked salmon cream cheese—delicious. 

After the second talk I drove to the Hs’ house. Lisa and Anne were playing Monopoly, of course. Amy came home from shopping at about four. Lisa and I stayed, hanging out, chatting with Rich and Amy until about five. Love them. At about five Lisa left to babysit for the As; I went outside to play basketball with Anne on the driveway, while Jane pedaled circles around us in her wee plastic car and Breeze loped through the line of spruce trees at the edge of the lawn. 

Anne and I were being silly, passing the ball back and forth, shooting, dribbling, doing all of it absolutely terribly—but the sun dazzled down on us, the fresh wind stirred up the smell of the muddy grass, and Jane giggled and babbled to herself while her car clattered around on the concrete. Expanse of blue sky. I went home at about six when they went to Maggie’s basketball game. At home Laura was on the phone. I wrote a letter to Tara. 

At about seven Lindsay and Peter burst in, laden with groceries, and set to work in the kitchen to cook a fancy meal for us. Lindsay made a Mediterranean salad, while Peter cooked enormous pieces of chicken in a butter-and-wine sauce in a wok on the stove. The luminous full moon glowed through the open kitchen window (though it was really too chilly to have the window open). The smells: butter, fresh parsley, mushrooms, white wine, all cooking together with the chicken; feta, tomatoes, balsamic vinaigrette in the salad; spinach-and-artichoke cheese dip that Lindsay set on the table for Laura and me to eat, piping hot from the oven with a crunchy crust on top; red wine in glasses; sweet basmati rice steaming. 

We had a sumptuous meal, talked nonsense, and afterward sat around talking for quite awhile. Eventually we cleaned up the kitchen, and Peter and Lindsay went upstairs to watch Lost. Laura and I put on The Devil Wears Prada downstairs, but she was playing checkers on her phone, and I was writing e-mails. Lisa came home. 

When the other two finished their episode, they bounced back downstairs, and we embarked upon round two, a monumental banana split. This creation took shape in a big glass baking dish: scoops of fancy vanilla ice cream, crumbled Girl Scout samoas, chocolate chips, bananas (of course), hot chocolate fudge, and whipped cream. We set the epic masterpiece down on the dining room table, whipped out spoons, and devoured it in short order between the five of us. Now everyone has gone to bed, except for Lindsday and Peter, who are trying to finish Lost tonight.