Whenever I make the long trip over to .Po's blog, I want to comment that I'm not On.Break.Bro anymore! Then I remember that I've posted twice this month, so basically, she's more right than me about me.
The job application process seems neverending, although it is tapering. I've sent about seventy packets total (in four waves) as of this morning, but new job postings keep showing up - I already have three more to send. The frustrating part of sending them out a handful at a time is that the time commitment to make three packets is not substantially shorter than the time commitment to put together twenty packets. It's a matter of hitting a different button the copier and waiting a few more minutes. Essentially, it's four hours to mail three packets versus five hours for two dozen.
At the behest of a couple schools (ones I'm very interested in) I've written two more syllabi (Int'l Political Economics and Global Environmental Politics) in the last week, which makes me think they're either interested or curious what hoops I'll jump through to get an interview. The answer is bring on the hoops. I'm ready to jump.
And if I wasn't ready to jump, M.Bro would be shoving me through hoops. She's ready to move on from her job - as difficult as it will be to leave Madison, she's always felt like this job is a temporary one. It's been a temporary one that opened a lot of doors for the type of career she wants to have, so she certainly appreciates it, but her stress and frustration are constant reminders that staying in this department and TAing for a year would be an unpopular option, family-wise.
Two weeks from yesterday until our 20-week ultrasound, which not only marks the half-way point but is our chance to find out whether Bean is a boy-bean or a girl-bean. We're keeping Bean's name secret (and even continuing to call Bean "Bean" after we find out), but we're sharing the sex. Neither one of us wants to redecorate in all pastel blues or pinks, but we've passed up good deals on clothes because of the color. Don't get me wrong, we're not so traditional that we think only girls belong in pink and only boys in blue, but conversations like this would get old fast:
Lady on the Street: "What an adorable little girl!"
Me: "Thanks, but he's a boy, and his name is Truckdriver McFlash"
Lady on the Street: "But, but..the pink onesie?"
Me: "Could we sit on the bench over there while I explain society's view of gender roles? I stood for the last three conversations like this, and my arches hurt"
[I suppose the alternative would just be to say "thanks" and move on - not that Bean knows one way or the other.]