anniemiz

Friday Cat Blogging: Bruiser

Edison's been on an increased dose of Elavil for a few weeks.  He does seem a little calmer now, but he still gets into it with the other cats.  Sometimes he gets banged up a bit from playing with .  Sometimes he gets banged up from fighting with Clara.  He must go into these altercations face first bc he routinely has scratches and pits in his nose.  I guess he never learned to protect his face with one fist while fighting (and protect your gut with the other; of course, your parts are unprotected while you're on the offensive).  I learned that as a wee lass.  For a while, my brothers were into boxing with a body bag.  I had a small pair of bright red boxing gloves with a picture of Popeye on them.

I loved them.  I wish I still had them.  Sometimes I just want to punch something.  Bam!  You know how that is.

He and the others enjoyed a warm day on the porch recently.

Oh, are we disturbing you?

Edddddiiiieeee, what happened to your nose?

While we're in the vicinity, let's take a closer look at that sweet little nose.

D'ooooohhhhh!.  All is forgiven.

My Freaking Problems

Do you ever have a day during which you feel lot you got a lot of stuff done?  Or made a lot of progress on something?  And not just any stuff or something, but the right stuff or something, i.e., the stuff or something you should be doing and not the stuff you a) would rather do bc it's easier or fun or whatever and/or b) do iot avoid doing what you should be doing?  That's the key: doing the right stuff.  Bc I can easily fill my day doing useful yet not the most important stuff.  E.g., purging the house of clothes, housewares, etc. to donate or throw out could take up a whole day.  And while it would be nice to clear that stuff out, it's not the most important thing at the moment.  It will probably never be the most important thing at any moment which is fine bc the important thing is that the important things at any given moment are the important things that I do.

Anyway, the point of this is that I got a lot of the right stuff done yesterday:

1. read David Lewis's New Work for a Theory of Universals; took notes in the fervent hope that I will fully understand it after another reading or seven; there was originally a typo here that called it New Wok for a Theory of Universals which I'm glad it wasn't bc that's sure to be an exponentially more complex argument
2. did an estimated EIGHT loads of laundry in the background to item #1; is this item as important as item #1?  Noooo, although a complete lack of clean underwear lends a sense of urgency to getting at least one load done.
3. did the usual other stuff around the house...tidy up the kitchen, scoop some litter boxes, made a couple of phone calls, etc.
4. performed the basic tasks of humanity (showered, ate, cuddled a cat here and there and there and there, etc.)

So yeah, as mentioned before, my class paper will be a compare and contrast between Lewis (the above paper and Against Structural Universals) and Armstrong's theory of universals.  My challenge, besides writing the thing, is to get it done on time.  I have a horrid habit of being very late with papers, so much so that I'm too embarrassed to admit how many papers I still have to hand in.  That's gotta change.  If Obama  (and David Bowie) can change, dagnabit, so can I.

One might wonder, what's my freaking problem?  Well, I'm afraid I must admit to multiple problems.

1. I don't stick to a topic.
2. I don't stop reading about it.  I have this irrational fear that I'm going to miss something really, really important and really, really obvious.  Of course I am.  I can't possibly read everything that is relevant and important on the topic.  Nor could I cover all the relevant and important stuff in a normal size paper so I shouldn't worry about missing something; instead, I should focus on setting boundaries on what material I will consider.  Depending on the topic, a paper covering all the important stuff could be a lifelong project.
3. I overdo the understanding of the material.  What does that mean?  Perhaps that's not the best way to put it.  What I mean is I think I need to understand every iota of whatever material I'm writing about.  Well, perhaps not every iota; if I don't need to cover a section and I don't think it will inform what I am writing about, I don't go over it with a fine tooth comb; e.g., I won't worry about fully understanding the last section of yesterday's reading (which is a fortunate thing in this case, let me tell you).
4. Probably related to #3: I go about understanding the material in the wrong way.  I don't think I do it in the best, most efficient way.  I struggle getting the details right, which takes time, and leave the big picture until the end.  I wonder if things would go smoother and faster if I posit a big picture first and then flesh it out with the details, correcting the big picture as I go along.  Slogging through the details of each section of material in question isn't a problem until a deadline is involved.
5. And then I think there's fear.  There.  I said it.  Fear that my paper will suck.  Suck beyond compare.  Suck without peer.  That it will be used over coffee or beers to regale other students and/or professors.  Okay, I don't really think it would suck bad enough that it would be a punchline.

That's it.  Well, those are all my freaking problems that I can think of right now.  I hope that's it.

Philosophers' Carnival #69...

...is here.

Welcome to the world, Sofia!

As mentioned before, a new niece was born.  Sofia is the daughter of my brother Greg and his wife Marianne.  She's also the little sister of our niece Gabi.  Some pictures of the brand spanking new little baby bunster.

Two more nieces and we'll be able to field a ball team. 

Happy Mother's Day

To all you mothers (and I mean that in the nicest way) out there:

Happy Mother's Day!

Neither Kevin's nor my mother live nearby, although both live within driving distance.  I'll see my mom soon when I drive up to CT to bring her cat, Buddy, to the vet.  Buddy has been exhibiting the same crass habit (inappropriate urination) as our Edison.  I brought him to the vet a few weeks ago.  The vet ran blood tests, which looked okay.  They wanted to run urine tests, but he didn't have a full enough bladder for them to do a stick.  Odd that, for a cat that manages to have plenty of urine for marking various pieces of furniture and inconvenient spots throughout the house.  And my mom won't do the lock-up-the-cat-with-an-almost-empty-litter-box trick for getting a urine sample out of him bc, quite frankly, she's a wussss with a capital WUSSSS.  Buddy was gone for an hour when he went to the vet recently, but she puts snacks and toys in his carrier for him and worried herself sick about him worrying himself sick.  Hey, nobody gave me snacks and toys on the way to the doctor!  WTF's up with that?   Anyway, I'll drop Buddy off at the vet around 8:30 AM so he can sit there until he has to pee.  If he doesn't pee on his own, he'll be knocked out for a dentistry, so they can do a stick then if necessary.

Dropping Buddy off at the vet in CT at 8:30 in the freaking morning requires that I leave here around six freaking thirty in the morning.  Longtime readers will know that I am most assuredly not a morning person.  It's been a big deal for me to stick to a new wake up time of 8:00 AM.  Crankypants alert.

We're also going to visit Kevin's parents soon.  We'll celebrate Mother's Day and his mother, Fern's, birthday.  Not only are we going, but Miles and Lizzie are coming along with us.  Road trip!  Kevin's parents, Jack and Fern, have a cat named Misty.  She was a stray cat that had had a couple of litters when Jack and Fern trapped and spayed her.  Miles and Lizzie are her kittens.  So we'll have a feline Mother's Day celebration, too.   I don't expect the kittens to remember Misty or vice versa, but the kittens are pretty easy going and seem to like other cats, and Misty seemed pretty easy going, too, so I think they'll get along.  Besides, they have so much in common!  Wouldn't you know, they all enjoy catnip.

Of course, the reunion will be photographed and blogged.

Happy Very First Mother's Day to Karen, Kevin's sister, mother of Kristen.

And Happy Mother's Day Anew to Marianne, my SIL, who just this past Thursday gave birth to our seventh niece, Sofia.  Labor was short (one hour!), but intense in inverse proportion.   Sofia weighed 6.5 lb. and measured 19", the exact same weight and measurement as her older sister, Gabi.  As soon as I get pictures of this newest delectable morsel, I will post them for all the world to see.

Friday Cat Blogging: Smudgie, In Memoriam

Our beloved Smudgie died on Tuesday, March 25th.  I haven't really felt like blogging about his death before now.  I'd still rather not think about it, but I also don't want to gloss over his death.

We euthenized Smudge.  He'd been ill, first with a funky fungus in the sinus cavity behind his right eye.  At the time, it was thought that whatever was the problem with his eye, it was cancerous.  So we were quite pleased to learn, after the biopsy, that it wasn't cancer there, but an unlikely fungus.  Now, this particular fungus was no party.  It was serious and could be fatal, but Smudgie responded well to months of treatment and the fungus disappeared.

He should have begun regaining weight he lost due to the fungal infection.  He didn't, so back to the specialist he went.  This time it was cancer: low-grade lymphoma.  How sad that he did so well wrt the fungus, only to then get cancer.  It is possible that the cancer was there before the fungus.  It's kinduva chicken and egg scenario.  The cancer could have lowered his resistance to infections or the infection could have paved the way for the cancer.  It's quite likely that Smudge has a genetic disposition to lymphoma, since his littermate, Archie, died of it high-grade lymphoma almost 4 years ago.  Their littermate, Dolly, exhibits sign of inflammatory bowel disease (IBD), which is often a precursor to lymphoma.  She's still with us.

We adopted Archie, Dolly and Smudgie in September, 1995, shortly after we bought our home and could finally have pets.  We actually went to the shelter with the idea of adopting one cat.  We decided on Dolly, a scaredy little grey tabby of a cat.  She had been adopted and returned already.  A family with young children adopted her, but it was all too much for Dolly.  She got herself up into one of those ceilings with the squares that you can lift up.  Then she went down the wall.  The family had to open up the wall to get her out.  When we heard that, we decided that we should adopt one of her littermates.  Maybe that would make adoption easier on her.  So we asked to adopt Archie.  The shelter was in the process of moving at the time, having lost their lease.  One of the volunteers planned to adopt Smudge if he wasn't adopted before the move.  When we were home and thought about the three cats some more, we decided we didn't want to separate them, so we asked to adopt Smudgie, too.  Here we all are, on the day we went to pick up the cats.

They were approximately 1.5 yo at the time.  Their estimated DOB was March, 1994 so we assigned them a birthday of March 15th, the ides of March.  Smudgie had just turned 14 yo when he died.

Smudgie dealt with his fungus treatments and cancer management fairly well.  He took fluconazole, an antinfungal, for the fungus.  That was just a pill and he was relatively easy to pill.  He didn't like it, but once you got him, it was easy to pill him.  There was no treatment for his cancer, i.e., there was no cure, but we tried to manage it to give him as long and as good a time as he could have.  Again, pills and the occasional vitamin B injection, all done at home.  The cancer and fungus both required weekly blood tests.  Dr. Slade did those on her visits.  Occasionally, he had to see the specialist.  Smudgie was quite the homebody.  I do think he would rather have skipped the road trips down to Red Bank, but he even handled those like a trooper.

He was quite the mushball and I think that that's what earned him some fans at the hospital.  He did seem to prefer the ladies, so I wouldn't be surprised that he charmed the mostly female techs at the hospital.  I think big noisy guys with deep voices unnerved him.  Me, too!

He retained his lovey, mushball demeanor throughout his treatments.  Even as he slowed down and continued to lose weight, he came around for love; held his tail up; came to see us when we came home; etc.  He ate very well and was interested in food until almost the very end, which was a little surprising to me.  Finally, it became clear that he was no longer enjoying life.  He stayed on the couch, except to eat.  He moved very slowly.  His big beautiful black eyes - big, healthy, shiny eyes that were one of his most outstanding features and one of my very favorite things about him - became dull.  He was tired.

We had an appointment for that Tuesday already: for Dr. Slade to check in on Nosey and Miles as well as Smudge.   She hadn't seen Smudge in two weeks and she was surprised when I called her to tell her that I think Tuesday wouldn't be a checkup for Smudgie, but a euthenization.  He was still enjoying things and being friendly with her when she last saw him.  But that weekend was when he took a turn.

Clara had been Smudgie's bff since Archie died, leaving her friendless in the house.  Just before the doctor arrived, Clara was giving Smudgie some loving and grooming.  Here's a picture of Smudge and Clara from that morning.

He'd gotten so skinny.

A last portrait of our beloved Smudge.

I can barely stand to look at that picture, knowing that was his last day.  Also, he's looking directly at the camera and when I look at it, I look in his eyes, hoping that we did right by him.  I know we gave him a great home and we loved him to smithereens, but that was the easy part.  I hope that our choices wrt his medical care and comfort were the right ones.

Dr. Slade saw to the other cats first, giving me some time alone with Smudge.  She gave him a drug that would make him sleep (not 'put him to sleep'; I really don't like that phrase).  He'd be asleep, but his eyes would be open.  I sat on the couch with Smudge on my lap, stroking his fur over and over, crying my eyes out, wondering what life would be like without Smudge.   Finally, we lay him on the couch.  I stroked his head.  She gave him the injection that would euthenize him.  After another while alone with his body, she wrapped him in a towel, wrapped him so sweetly, like a baby laying asleep on his side, with just his pretty face showing.  I held him like that for a while and I tell you I felt like I could have held him to me forever.  I wanted to hold him forever.  Finally, I gave him to Dr. Slade, who would arrange for Abbey Glen to pick him up.

We had his cremation service a couple of weeks later and brought his ashes home that same day.  I know he died on March 25th, but it's nice to have his ashes back home with us.  Now we need to come up with something to say on the urn's plaque.  It's so hard to think of something that does justice to a love affair of 13 years, yet brief enough to fit in a small space.

I'll end here, with a few favorite pictures of our beautiful Smudgie.

Nearing the End, Sort Of

This semester's class meetings are almost over.  The professor finished his lecture material today, so our last meeting next week will be an open format thing where we ask questions, revisit earlier stuff, etc.    Our paper is due mid-June.  The class was condensed, time-wise, in that we met twice a week for the second half of the semester.  So we have an extra month to work on the paper.

I had thought of doing a compare and contrast kind of thing between Armstrong and Chisholm's state of affairs metaphysics.  Not sure what the focus would be, although I was considering the former's rejection of and the latter's acceptance of non-obtaining states of affairs.  That idea was shelved bc the professor felt he didn't know Chisholm well enough to grade it.  So we decided upon a compare and contrast between Armstrong and Lewis.  I haven't read a lot of Lewis so this will be something new for me.  He suggested I read two Lewis articles, New Work for a Theory of Universals and Against Structural Universals.  Printing them out, I felt like I should plant a tree in return.  On to it, then.

Backyardigans

Just hanging in the backyard, blogging while I keep an eye on my kitty.  Nosey loves coming outside.  He's the only cat that comes out all free and easy, without a leash or stroller.  He sticks pretty close to home.  Compared to the others and I think most cats in general, he's relatively slow so even if he does try to broaden his horizons too much, he's easy to corral.

The neighbors two doors down like to play music loud while they're hanging out out back; I don't mind.  Anyway, it sounds like the grandparents have control of the radio dial tonight bc it's oldies night.  It concerns me that I know so many of the songs.  Now, I do have some excuse in that I couldn't help but learn a whole mess of old ditties when I was at the nursing home (as a volunteer/employee, of course, not as a resident).  I used to know so many pop songs and used to be able to name the titles and artists of so many one hit wonders without missing a beat.  Beat? 'Heartbeat (It's a Love Beat)' by Tony DiFranco & the DiFranco Family anyone?

It's so nice to be outside on a great day...the sun is shining...the neighbors' lilacs' scent is wafting by on a light breeze....  I caught a virus last week and I holed up inside until Monday.  Nothing you can take for a virus, though the doctor did suggest Claritin-D to manage the symptoms.  I took one today; meh.  How do people who use it regularly for allergies afford it?  A pack of 5 was $10...that's $2/pill!  Sad to say, it appears I may have regifted my virus to Kevin.

Moving along...watching CNN's coverage of today's primaries.  Wolf Blitzer having a field day in THE SITUATION ROOM (dun dun dunnn).  John King playing with his map.  Talking heads talking over around each other.  Why am I watching this?  Click.

Wait!  Off to hear what Hillary has to say.

Lucky Eddie

Edison is lucky in several ways.  See, he's still marking and if luck hadn't smiled on him he would be in deep yogurt looooong before now.  He has no medical issues that might cause him to mark, so it's considered a behavioral problem.  He started marking around February.  We're not sure what triggered it, but best guess is that it has something to do with the kittens joining our home.  They actually came to us in the fall, but they weren't fully integrated until some time later.  I wonder if Smudgie's decline in health and the social changes that went along with that might play into Edison's problem.  Lots of things could trigger sudden inappropriate urination and we'll pretty much never know for sure what it was that turned Edison into a feline sprinkler system.

He was on liquid Prozac (fluoxetine) for a week.  It tasted disgusting (Kevin accidentally tasted it) and Edison was not at all keen on taking it.  He spat it out, hacked it up and sneezed it away into the stratosphere, basically expelling it from his mouth in any way he could.  I think there was a miscommunication between the doctor and myself and that's why Eddie was prescribed the liquid version and not the pill.  He's actually quite easy to pill.

Anyway, it takes  a toll on a man when his kitty doesn't want to be around him bc said man might try to squirt some nasty stuff into the kitty's discriminating mouth.  Kevin really didn't like giving Edison the Prozac.  Edison would try to avoid him, he was all hard to handle (without being nearly as cool as Otis Redding) and always spat out some of his dosage.  So the vet told us to take Edison off the meds for a week and then try Elavil (amtriptyline).  He's been on 1/4 tablet once a day for a couple of weeks now.  Edison exhibited no change wrt marking or possible side effects (e.g., drowsiness; he's not supposed to drive a car or operate heavy machinery when using Elavil).  He was recently upped to 1/2 tablet once a day.

He does seem a little mellower on this higher dosage.  I like to think that's actually the case and I'm not just looking for it.  He's still marking.  It seems like all the drugs used for inappropriate urination take a few weeks to reach full effect.  According to the doctor, the dosage range for a cat Eddie's size (approx. 11-12 lb.) is 2.5 mg/day (1/4 tablet, Edison's starting dose) - 12.5 mg/day (1.25 tablets).  This website says cats usually are prescribed 5-10 mg/day.  I can definitely see Eddie's dosage being increased.

BTW, I believe the use of these human drugs for pets is considered off-label use, i.e., the drug is used for something other than that which is listed as its intended use.

I really, really, really hope this works.  If Elavil doesn't work, we'll try Prozac again, but in tablet form.  We only gave the liquid form to him for a week, which isn't a fair shake.  We'll also get some of those Feliway products that are supposed to diffuse 'a natural substance, odorless to humans, that mimics a cat's facial pheromones to calm cats in stressful environments '.  Uh-huh. The plug-in says it 'effectively ends urine marking'.  Mm-hmm.  I think Eddie's wound kinda tightly; I don't know if a pheromone plug-in's going to do the trick, but it may help.  I certainly don't want to diaper the little guy, although I would do that as a very last resort.

Then, once he stops marking, it will be time for a cleaning fest to try and salvage some things around the house that he's marked.  We've been cleaning the urine up when we find it, but sometimes we don't find it right away.  Those things will need big time cleaning and I expect to make generous use of bleach and the summer sun.  One of his favorite targets is The Comfy Chair.  Actually, we have Matching Comfy Chairs and he's peed on both of them, but his preferred target is Kevin's Comfy Chair.  I just about broke down and cried when Edison peed on those most wonderful and comfy of chairs.  I think they may be goners.

But back to his luck.  Why is he lucky?  He's lucky bc we still love him to pieces even though he's evidently got a bee in his bonnet about something and the only way he's able to express himself is by, well, expressing himself.

He's lucky that he's so cute and adorable...

...and that he's so good with the kittens...

...and that Kevin loves him to the moon and back...

...but mostly bc he hasn't peed on my beloved porch yet....  Yet.  There better not be any yet about it or it'll be bang, zoom, straight to the moon for Edison.

Links:

• Drs. Foster & Smith's page about Prozac
• Mar Vista Animal Medical Center's  Pharmacy Center  page about Elavil
• Feliway webpage

Behaving Badly

Brian Leiter at Leiter Reports recently posted Funny---On Academic Bad Manners.  From the post:

A young philosopher at a top research university writes: "The thing that always astonishes me is that they [bloggers, journalists etc.] put on this air of pained affront if an academic gets short with them - 'I don't expect this tone from an educator' and all that jazz. Jesus, they should have been in a room with Jerry 'I just have one question: was your paper a joke?' Fodor, or Kim 'but there's no fucking evidence for that!' Sterelny.

Also:

UPDATE:  Philosopher Tad Brennan at Cornell writes with an explanation:

Journalists are surprised that academics can be short with them because they last met academics in the classroom, and most professors are kind and generous when dealing with students.  Serious academics save their scathing put-downs for colleagues and equals--I doubt that those quotes from Fodor and Sterelny document interactions with students.

Instead of feeling pained and affronted, the bloggers and journalists should take it as a compliment: 'hey, those academics are treating me like an equal!'  That can help to salve the bruises, anyhow. And it also shows why a sharp-tongued critique directed at a non-student is no betrayal of the "tone" appropriate to an "educator". If you are my student, then I have an obligation to be your educator; if not, not.

That certainly describes my own sentiments (and practices) exactly.

JJ at Feminist Philosophers recently posted Rats!  The 'Rats!' of the post title refers to that fact that JJ wants to comment on Leiter's post, but comments are not enabled (as is the case with most of the Leiter Reports posts).  From the post:

There’s Brian Leiter over on his blog treating philosophers’ rudeness as a joke.  Or, equally, as something you should experience as proof you are being treated as an insider.

...

Notice that though he and those acting like him apparently think they’d never, ever treat students with crushing rudeness, everyone else is fair game.  Interesting view of social interaction and one’s place in it.

Is the priority given to one’s feelings and thoughts  in an academic debate - and the obvious sense of entitlement to nastily dump on people-  narcissistic?  Is there really any justification for comments that are nasty and bitter enough that, when made by a powerful figure, they can lead to one’s being ostracized?   What do you think?

Comments are enabled (as is the case with most of the Feminist Philosophers posts).

Both posts are very short; you may wish to read them yourselves.  Both posts also contain related links you may wish to read.

I really, really, really don't like acceptance and encouragement of willful rudeness within philosophy (or within most areas).  I must admit that I just don't understand the attraction.  Be sure that I'm referring to unncessary rudeness, meanness, nastiness, etc.  I am not referring to constructive criticism.  Some thoughts:

• Again, what's the attraction with being crushingly rude to anyone within your field?  Where's the benefit to any party?
  • I suppose some people are motivated by a verbal kick in the pants such as one might receive in 'scathing put-downs' from their 'colleagues and equals'.  I am not and I'll make a bold claim that most people are not so motivated.  What does the recipient's motivation matter?  Well, it'd be one thing if we could claim that this kind of nastiness at least produces new, improved and perhaps lemon-scented philosophy.  Can we say that?  Perhaps, but I'll not make that particular claim.
  • Does the giver receive any kind of benefit?  I admit that, in general interactions, it sometimes feels good to get in a good one to one's (perceived) opponent.  For about 30 seconds.  If that long.  Then I start to feel like I've scored a rather petty reward and wish I could take back my mean, thoughtless comments.  Mom was right: 'You must be a little person to belittle another person.'  If she said that once, she said it 784 times (I counted)
• Gor, do we need divas in philosophy?  Sure, there's always going to be egomaniacs in philosophy bc there will always be egomaniacs and some of them will end up in philosophy.  Should we encourage pain-in-the-ass-hood within philosophy?  Can we please leave divahood to pop culture celebrities?
  • As an aside, once upon a time, at an institution far, far away, a professor once remarked on how quiet a seminar had been and wondered why that was.  Of course, students responded with their so-far customary silence.  He went on a bit.  I suggested that maybe people found him intimidating (I did).  He responded that he knew he was intimidating.  Hmmm.  Okay, maybe here's a clue as to why the seminar is so quiet?  Now, I should clarify that he didn't say he revelled in his intimidating nature.  For all I know, it could be something he's working on changing so as to be more approachable.   Discussion seemed to open up after that meeting.  Perhaps just bringing up the lack of discussion was sufficient to get things going.  I recall this professor once said that a particular student comment was the only worthwhile thing he'd heard so far (as in so far in the semester in that seminar).  My thought on stuff like that:  Compliment the student on his comment if you like, but keep the other stuff to yourself.  I'm not here to please you; I'm here to get myself an education.
  • As a further aside, I am currently in a seminar in which the professor exhibits a style of discourse I greatly admire.  It strikes me as a rather old-fashioned manner, although I don't know for sure that it is (bc I'm not quite that old myself).  I don't know this for sure, but I get the feeling that he's as polite in seminar as he is out of seminar, i.e., this is generally how he interacts with people.  I may be wrong about that, but that's what I would like to be the case.  Wrt comments and questions: compliments the better ones; redirects the poor ones; fully considers all of them.  Does not hesitate to say 'I don't know', which is so refreshing!  There's plenty of discussion in each seminar.  Heck, even I - who, longtime readers will recall, has issues with speaking up - have asked questions (plural!) in seminar meetings (plural again!).  And felt no issues!  Even when I asked a really stupid question last time (bc I overlooked one rather pivotal word in the example, along the lines of reading 'There is' instead of 'There is not'), I didn't feel stupid in that setting.
• Some folks have suggested different attitudes are appropriate for different roles.  E.g., the 'kind and generous' professor in the second aside above may well be entirely appropriate for the role of teacher to student  where it would be inappropriate, perhaps even condescending, in the role of professor to professor (or other supposed equal).  Certainly, expectations are different; Brennan's update in Leiter's post alludes to this.  I don't see how it follows that greater yet unmet expectations require greater rudeness.  Again, what does that do?  Even if it doesn't do anything practical, e.g., inspire the recipient, is there some theoretical justification for being nasty?

I understand that people (read: I) get frustrated and sometimes that comes out in our (read: my) personal interactions.  I'm not talking about that.  E.g., at work I sometimes want to scream at people to come on into the 20th century already when they bitch and moan and go on and on (really!) about replacing the card catalog with a computer-based catalog...but I don't (I might do so in my head).  Sometimes I do lose it, even with people with whom I should perhaps be more patient (e.g., maybe it's common of all public libraries, but we have a number of patrons with, shall we say, issues; I'm no expert, but I gather it's these issues that encourage some of them to complain about other patrons spying on them or ranting and yelling [!] about the policy of the public computers turning off 10 minutes before closing time [apparently, said patron believes they should stay on until exactly closing time - he always inquires as to whether we still have that 'stupid-ass policy'...]).  Okay, okay, enough shop talk...what I'm talking about here, at too much length, is simply to point out what I'm not talking about: occasional rudeness.  I'm talking about maintaining a negative, unconstructively critical (I think I'm giving birth to jargon here) attitude as a matter of course.  Heck, sometimes it comes off as a matter of pride.

• Justification for acceptance/encouragement of crushing rudeness seem to refer to stature, position within the field, etc., as if the more well-known you are, the more justified you are in being nasty.  ('Well-known' does not necessarily mean also 'well regarded' or also 'knowledgeable about X', although those may all be the case.)  I don't see how it follows that greater renown gives one some kind of right to be nasty.
• I've heard it said that there's so much bad philosophy and pseudo-philosophy out there (esp. on the innertubes) that someone's got to hammer down on those responsible...for the sake of philosophy! (That last part was dramatic license.)  I suppose that's one way to go about raising the level of philosophy, perhaps especially public and/or amateur philosophy.  (I don't mean 'amateur philosophy' in as condescending a way as it sounds; I have not yet found a better term for what I want to convey.)  This reminds me a bit of the idea that U.S. secularists and religious types who are unsympathetic toward religious fundementalists shouldn't ignore the latter and their activities as 'crazy' or 'too far out there to ever affect me' bc before you know it Pat Robertson will be president, abortion will be illegal, Christianity will be the official religion of the country, etc.  There's something plausible about wanting to preserve X by active discouragement of Y, attempts to dismantle Y, etc.  Public approval or disapproval by experts, people in power, etc. can be powerful influences on public opinion.  I'll admit that the current pope got a big boost in my estimation yesterday (I didn't have much of an estimation of him previously) and only bc I read that he loves cats!  That's all it takes to earn my favor.  Of course, he loses that favor immediately if it turns out that he kills puppies for fun.  But you get the point: shun the bad philosophy, embrace the good philosophy and perhaps the good philosophy will grow while the bad philosophy withers and dies.  Not a crazy idea...but how best to do it?  I believe it was Gandhi who said, 'Hate the sin, love the sinner.'  Or something.  I'm not religious, but this is a not-crazy idea when applied to this non-religious situation.  Crushing rudeness is not just about a bad batch of philosophy someone cooked up; it's personally insulting.  I'm not asking anyone to love bad philosophers, but I would appreciate it if we tried not to be personally insulting to them (or most anyone, but I'll limit the application bco the topic at hand) just bco their bad philosophy.  If they kill puppies for fun, then they're fair game for lots of negativity and I want first dibs.
• Finally, and somewhat related to the preceding comment, on what basis do we decide that this nastiness is warranted, acceptable, etc., but that nastiness is not?  Or that person A can be as nasty as they wanna be, but not person B?

I won't pretend to be entirely objective about this subject.  Personally, I admit, once again, that I am not at all comfortable in the antagonistic style of doing philosophy.  To me, philosophy is an intellectual exercise in which I am simply trying to improve my skill and, I hope, come up with something interesting.  It is not Gladiator.  If I can help someone else in their philosophical (or other) endeavor while I'm at it, I'm happy to be of any use to them.  If not, oh well and maybe next time and/or next person.  If what I do helps others in some practical way, that would be great.  What I will not do is bring down another person.  Will I critique others' reasoning?  Sure.  Will I get personal and nasty about it?  I hope not to.

Happy Birthday, Kevin!

My darling husband Kevin turns 43 today.  Happy birthday, sweetie!  A picture of himself:

Kevin is surely blessed in many ways, but one of his more obvious blessings is that big ol' head o' hair he's got going on.  As you can see from the back, he's got just the slightest whisper of a hint of a bald spot forming.  (He - and I - had no idea why I was taking a picture of the back of his head at the time.  But this seems like as good a time as any to look at the back of Kevin's head.)

Not the best picture...too much light...and his hair's all meshuggenah...he really does have some beautiful curly nut brown hair (with a few 'blondes', as he likes to call them, mixed in).

It's always a good time for an LOLCAT!

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Obey the kitteh:

Friday Cat Blogging: Basket Case

I'm not ready to blog about our recently departed, very dear Smudgie, so here are some pictures of cute little Miles.

My in laws, Jack & Fern, sent us a beautiful fruit basket as a gesture of sympathy for my father's and Smudgie's deaths.  Almost as soon as we opened it, Miles took to plucking out the grapes and batting them around the house.  We're still finding wrinkled grapes - raisins? - here and there.  After unpacking the basket and putting the fruit on the counter, I just left the basket on the table.  One morning, as I'm having my cup of tea, I see the basket with its shaved wood stuffing and think that I'd better do something with it before Miles goes gonzo on it.  I leave for a moment and come back to find that Miles has just knocked the basket off the table onto the floor.  And then in he goes!

Just checking out the world from mah basket:

I'm exhausted.  Better have a lie down:

Bouts

Unsurprisingly, I a) haven't been much in the mood for blogging lately and b) have been feeling kinda sad lately.  I have these bouts of sadness, often first thing in the morning, when I want to just stay in bed and not go anywhere/do anything.  I felt like that yesterday and I did reschedule my annual gyn appointment (oh drat), but I did go to work.  For my first few hours at work on Mondays I'm in the Community Room during kid time.  I was in a foul mood and wanted to hammer down on some small, helpless, defenseless children yesterday.  That, of course, would not do and, really, it's not their fault that I'm blue.  Eventually, I felt better as the day went on.  Today I wanted to stay in bed instead of going to class, but decided to go bc I figured a) I'd feel better as the day went on (I did) and b) I should go.  That's kind of how things have been lately.

Perhaps my dad's death and my cat's death affect me more than I expected.  Both deaths were expected in that my dad and my cat had been very ill lately and, short of a miracle, were not going to improve.

I thought that a number of things would soften my sadness upon either death.

• Both deaths were expected.
• Both had been declining for some time and so I felt like I had lost each little by little along the way.
• I wasn't very close to my dad.
• Both lived long lives.

As others have since told me, and I have learned, grief manifests itself in so many different ways.  I thought I had come to peace with certain things as my father's health declined.  And perhaps I had.  But perhaps also that his actual death brought them to the forefront again.

E.g., as I said above, my dad and I were not close.  There seemed to be so much that prevented us from having a good relationship.  That pained me for a long time and for a long time I tried to fix that, to no avail.  Finally, I had a breakthrough moment where I decided that I wasn't going to beat my head against the wall anymore bc a) it wasn't good for me and b) my head hurt.  And I do believe that was a good decision for my mental health.  However, it was also a letting go of a certain hope and I believe I did a sort of grieving about it at the time.

Thing is, although I let go of that desire, it could still have happened.  That is, it was possible, although highly unlikely.  When my dad became very ill, that desire was no longer just put aside, it had become an impossibility.  So there was a sense of a loss of a possibility.

Nothing changed between the onset of his illness and his death, but death itself brought that issue to the forefront once again.  To be dealt with once again.  Enough already.

Oddly enough, there's been sadness for my mother and not for the reasons one would typically suspect.  She's spent the majority of the last few years caring for my father and dealing with the different implications of his illness.  Besides the actual physical care there's been prescription coverage, medical coverage, legal stuff, the usual stuff of life (house, cat, yard, etc.), her own health, her own prescription and medical coverage, blah blah blah.  She seemed to become rather bleak and unenergetic during these past few years.  Now, she will be 82 this year, so she's no spring chicken, but her attitude has always been upbeat (if occasionally martyr-like) and her health has been, I think, better than most people her age.

Yesterday, I was talking to her on the phone.  She asked after Kevin and I made a little fun of him bc he's in pain.  No, I'm not that mean.  So, Kevin and I were sick a few weeks ago w/some nasty bug.  We're still coughing from that, maybe a few times a day.  The other day Kevin had such the coughing fit that he hurt himself.  I don't know what he did, but it's like he pulled a muscle in his side.  He's been walking around like an old man for the last few days.  He's even put the Official Ointment of Old Men (BenGay) on it.  Anyway, my mother laughed a little at the remark about Kevin walking around like an old man.  Her laugh sounded strange and I suppose it's bc it's been so long since she laughed.  I think she's had so much on her mind for so long now that it just kind of wore down her spirits.

As an aside, I wish Kevin would at least call the doctor about this pain.  He says that every time he coughs now, it feels like he's damaging it anew.  And OMD when he coughs, his face is contorted into such pain that it looks like he's finally having The Big One he's always threatening to have.  (Kevin's paternal grandfather, Homer, died of a heart attack in his early 70s.  For some reason, Kevin's convinced he's also going to die of a heart attack, but at a much younger age, as in any day now.)  It's happened a few times now and the first time I saw him coughing, grabbing at his side, contorting his face, the color rushing to his face...I thought maybe it was The Big One and that I should be calling 911.  I didn't call and he lived, so that's all good.

Anyway, the sadness around my mother is sadness for what she lost these last few years.  Now, she didn't have to do so much of the work wrt caring for my father.  And she did get a lot of help from my brothers in the area.  She could have had more help, but she declined.  That particular decision irked me; it still does; but it was her choice.  Even though I disagreed with some of her choices wrt my father's illness and she had a right to those choices, I feel sad at what she lost as at least a partial result of those choices.  Like I said, she is almost 82 now, but I do hope she will have time to enjoy herself.

Two Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days

My father, Casimir Mizera, died last Monday, March 24, 2008.  We euthanized our cat, Smudge, the next day, last Tuesday, March 25, 2008.  It will go down in history as The Week That Was The Suxxor.

My dad was 87 yo.  He had been ill for some time since suffering a stroke and heart attack in one night several years ago.  Even before then, he experienced some mild physical effects of aging, e.g., sciatica, arthritis, etc., but nothing serious.   He also was getting forgetful.  Fortunately, he had voluntarily given up driving some  years before, but when his mental facilities began to decline he would try to drive anyway.  My mom and brothers took to hiding the car keys so he couldn't drive.  His mental facilities continued to decline after his stroke and heart attack.

He spent most of his time these last few years at home in the care of my mother, brothers, home health aides,  visiting nurses and other healthcare types, e.g., physical therapists.  I don't know what his preferences were on the subject, but I'll assume that he wanted to be at home for as much and as long as possible; that's just what I'd expect of him.

He did spend time in the hospital, rehabs and nursing homes over the last few years.  He was in the hospital a couple of months ago and was not expected to survive then.  I don't recall if they did any kind of resuscitation, but, IIUC, my mom signed a DNR after that episode.

Unfortunately, as in exceedingly unfortunately, he did not make his wishes around care known before he became ill.  I really, really, really wish he had done so.  I think it put a terrible burden on my mom who still isn't 100% sure she did the right thing in signing the DNR.  I believe my bros and I are agreed that it was the right thing to do, in fact, that perhaps it should have been signed earlier.  He was bedridden, his legs curled up, his arms with limited motion, his speech non-existent and his mind, as far as we could tell, was functioning poorly.  During one of my last visits, I'm fairly certain that he didn't recognize me and, I'm sad to say, he seemed alarmed.   Perhaps a visit from a 'stranger'  was disconcerting.

So anyway, hard to know what my dad would have wanted.  I do believe that he enjoyed his physicality, e.g., he enjoyed puttering around in his workshop.  He especially enjoyed gardening and yardwork.  Had he remained in Poland and, like, WWII never happened, he probably would have become a farmer; if not professionally, at least extensively enough to provide for himself and family and maybe some to sell.  If I had had to decide, I would have thought that he would not have wanted to continue as long as he did in the reduced mental and physical state that he did. 

He rarely spoke about his life in Poland, the war, his time in a German POW camp, his move to England...and certainly not about how and why he and my mother hooked up.  When I was in high school I participated in a donkey basketball game between school athletes (I know, I know, it must be difficult to imagine an athletic me, but I swear it's true!  In fact, I'll have you know that I scored 2 of our pitiful 6 points.  We lost.  Bigtime.) and the town police.  During a spell on the bench, I visited with my parents and my dad told me how to get the donkey to do what I wanted.  That was the first I knew that he knew from donkeys.

Actually, he was not a conversational sort about anything.  He was talkative enough within his circle of friends from the old countries, but outside of that, and especially with new people, he was not conversational.  I think he was very self-conscious of his status (we didn't live in poverty, but I'd say we were poor to a meaningful extent; enough to get food stamps when his union went on strike which was entirely too often for our comfort and well-being though it may have benefitted union members) and his poor command of the English language.  It's too bad he could not see himself as just one of the millions of people who have come to the US to make their future.  I don't know why this was the case, but he seemed overly aware of class and status and placed himself rather low down on the various socioeconomic totem poles.  It always seemed to me that that attitude colored much of his behavior and attitudes and probably kept him from doing a great many things he might have otherwise enjoyed doing.

Obvs, my brothers and I (and my mother, but I'll leave that for now) were not strangers to him, but he was not talkative with us either.  I think that he (and my mom, but that's another story) were all set to raise their kids the way they might have done back on the old sod, but met with some, shall we say, resistance when trying to raise kids in the US.  My 5 brothers are all older.  I think most of them were quietly resistant to my dad's approach to parenting.  My youngest older brother, Caz (named after my father and thank goodness for that bc I was next and last!), exhibited the liveliest resistance to my dad.  Turns out they were very much alike, most noticeably in the stubbornness department, but woe to any who suggested the likeness to either party.  Caz was nothing like my father and my father was nothing like Caz!

My dear friend and neighbor from across the street since 4th grade, Michelle, once said that she thought that, even after my father had to deal with five boys, I was the kid who broke the camel's back.  I don't know exactly what she meant by breaking the camel's back, but I thought she meant something along the lines that my dad thought he knew what to do with my brothers, but was nonplussed when I started to have my own thoughts, wants, opinions, etc.  Perhaps my brothers and dad went at it in typical guy-style, but I wanted to talk about stuff, like feelings, and that was not a big hit chez Mizera.  So, in the end, I have to say that I - and probably my bros, although I won't speak for them in this regard - didn't know my father as I would have liked.  At least, I think I would have liked to know him; perhaps we would have been disappointed in each other.  I was, after all, supposed to become a mathematician!

I'll write more another time and also will write about Smudge another time.

Just Leave Well Enough Alone

In his 'Closing the books' post over at Crooked Timber, Daniel Davies writes that he has:

...a minor annual tradition (as in, I did it once) of beginning the year with a short list of arguments that I am no longer going to have. As I said when I produced the first such list, while not necessarily claiming to have the definitive truth on these subjects, my views

“Are no longer up for argument, pending absolutely spectacular new evidence. I’ve had a number of arguments on all of these points over the last year; I’ve heard all sides, and I’ve made up my mind. If anyone has an argument which they genuinely believe to be new, go ahead, but don’t expect much. Please note also that I am no longer interested in methodological debates over the merits of statistical studies which purport to prove the matter one way or another on any of these propositions.”

It’s basically a way of clearing the decks of old pointless arguments, leaving room for new pointless and bitter arguments (I hope to post next week a short list of things that I plan to argue about a heck of a lot more, being a list of tacit assumptions made by other people that I regard as highly questionable). If you want to have a last go on any of the short list below, now’s the time, but otherwise it is books closed, I’m afraid; I have made a reasonable donation to the Grice United Fund which ought to cover any genuinely deserving intellectual charity cases. So here’s the list – it’s actually shorter than previous years.

His list includes the following argument and comment:

God, non-existence and/or general perniciousness of as a vital matter for public debate. Moderate amounts of publicly financed god-bothering as an inevitable first step on the road to theocracy. Teaching of evolution to people who don’t want to learn it as a vital goal of public policy. [DISAGREE]

Entirely agree with Jamie here that a sensible man does not spend his precious and decidedly finite waking hours talking or thinking in any great depth about that in which he does not believe. The amount of time and energy poured into this bottomless pit by passionate, intelligent and liberal individuals who could be doing Avogadro’s number of more worthwhile things is enough to make me want to weep. I particularly won’t be reading or discussing any of the books on the subject unless and until I get hold of a series of the original and canonical texts by Oolon Colluphid.

When I read his post, I thought, 'Hmm, maybe that's a good idea.'  There are so many things about which I (or anyone) could think.  My brain being somehow more finite than most, perhaps I ought to limit that on which I spend my precious stock of brain cells.  This might also help with the problem of so many worthy causes with which to sympathize, but so little resources to spread across those causes, that I blogged about in Earnestness Avoided.  And so I decided to, like Mr. Davies, no longer consider arguments for/against the existence of god(s).  There's no conclusive argument either way, as in, no knock-down undeniable proof against which all comers fail, and there isn't likely to be anytime soon.  Sure, I and others might think that one conclusion is, to some extent or other, more likely than the other, but none is 200% fool proof (I know, I know, low hanging fruit).  I've read and thought a bit about the subject, have arrived at a belief, and perhaps now it's time to put the subject on my personal backburner.

But I just can't stay away!  And so I find myself with the following books on my nightstand:

• Reason for the Hope Within, edited by Michael J. Murray and
• Philosophers Without Gods, edited by Louise Antony.

I shouldn't, really I shouldn't, do this.  I do so much better with my focus on fewer rather than more things, i.e., I probably don't have enough space on my radar to consider this now.  And yet I forge ahead on an almost certainly doomed endeavor.  I've started with the first book.  I don't have much to say just yet, having finished only the first two chapters.  I think I'll need to find support elsewhere for some claims in each contributor's chapter.  I forget which of the two chapters referenced several things a Christian must or cannot accept (paraphrasing here, I don't have either book with me at the moment).  Some things that a Christian must accept refer to the Christian god as depicted in the Bible.  But why credit the Bible?  Phrases like 'We learn from Scripture that....' and 'Scripture tells us that....' hold little weight for me since I don't believe that a Christian god guided the hand of men to write the Bible.  I regard the Bible as a man-made product of the culture, politics, customs, prejudices, etc. at the time of its writing.  Obviously, each contributor cannot address/justify every assertion they mention, however, I wouldn't mind hearing why one should credit the Bible with such authority.  Just as it might seem obvious to a Christian reading this why the Bible is the authoritative document on Christianity ('Well, duh, bc it was written by God.'), it seems just as obvious to me that the Bible was written by many very human men.  And by 'men' I mean 'men', i.e., the maleness of authorship is an important feature of the Bible.

So, yeah, we'll see what happens.  I don't know what I expect to get out of this.  I refer to this as an almost certainly doomed endeavor bc I won't get anything near the 200% answer noted above, that is, I don't expect to reach a conclusion very different from that which I've already reached.  I do expect to gain a deeper understanding of the arguments on both sides and possibly a better idea of how they could all work (or not) together.

Friday Cat Blogging: Staying Warm

No, I did not knit these sweaters, but perhaps someday I will knit some custom clothes for Miles.  The clash between this sweater and his coloring looks worse in the picture than it does in real life.

He's grown a bit since the above picture; I don't think that sweater would still fit him.  This one gives him a little room to grow.  And these colors are better on him.

Yes, I think when I'm a much better knitter I'll have to make some things for Miles.

Crankypants

I haven't been much in the mood for blogging lately since I have been much more in the mood for being a crankypants.  It's probably just me PMSing.  Grrrrrr.  I have been feeling downright ornery today.  I feel a little better now that I've taken my self out of the house and over to Mara's in Denville for a yummy lentil soup and chamomile tea.

I'll take this opportunity to note, just as an aside, that, IMHO, if after literally seventeen admonitions to use one's 'indoor voice', one is still using one's 'outdoor voice', then one a) doesn't understand the concept and/or b) is uninterested in using one's indoor voice.  I know that children are necessary for the continuation of the species, but must they be so much in public?  Really.

It seems like I PMS more now that I'm older.  I suppose it's possible that I was just as ornery when PMSing as a young thing, but oblivious to my crankitude.  If so, I was probably just as oblivious to the effects of my crankitude on others.  Sorry, all: my bad.

Another wandering thought: I've often thought that much of childrearing consists of distraction.  I think that minute to minute managing of another's activity would drive me nuts.  That and the constant conversing at a child's level.  Well, all I can say is, good thing I didn't have kids.  And on that topic: I've also often thought that one of the reasons why I didn't have kids is bc I'd raise said kid(s) outside the Cult of the Child that I think exists in this country, thereby putting said kid(s) at a distinct disadvantage.

And then there's all the crap about children being our future, our hope, our blah blah blah.  Do people really mean that when they say that?  Or do they mean, as I suspect, that their children are the future, the hope, the blah blah blah?  It's more righteous to speak on behalf of all children than just one's own.

Now do you believe that I truly am a crankypants?

Actually, I'm not that much of a kid hater.  The loud ones left; there are several well-behaved and cute kids here.  I think the louder the kid, the more noticeable they are and so they stick out.  I don't expect kids to be seen and not heard; I just wish their parents/caregivers would teach them about how different circumstances require different behavior.  And I understand that there's a learning curve involved and mistakes will occur at inopportune and sometimes embarrassing times.  I suppose one could argue that the expected different behaviors are just results of social conditioning, but would that same one wish to do away with social conditioning, social expectations, etc.?  That would be quite messy, what with people not knowing what to expect of others, of themselves, in all manner of situations, etc.

Wow.  I just re-read the above.  I think I have finally achieved Official Curmudgeon Status.

**Sniff.**

I've worked my whole life for this!

Sometimes when I feel cranky and am tired of feeling cranky, what makes me feel better is to think about how good I have it compared to the vast majority of people in the world.  Now, I'm not claiming that I live a life of luxury, but having a home, health, a job, the ability to do quite a lot of what I'd like to do, food on the table, a sweet husband, beautiful kits, good friends (despite my curmudgitude, no less!), etc., makes a person quite fortunate.  If only they weren't playing Phil Collins on the radio now, my life would be perfect.

As yet another aside, how is it that anyone likes Phil Collins?  And likes him enough to pay good money to see him in concert?

Speaking of in concert, tickets for Southside Johnny's annual July concert go on sale tomorrow at noon!  Ain't nothin' but a party, people.

Philosophers' Carnival #65...

...is here.

Friday Cat Blogging: Overexposure / Happy Birthday Dolly, Smudge, Clara & Nosey!

Smudge and Clara cuddle up so sweetly in their tweenybeds.  Clara usually plops herself right on top of Smudgie.  He mustn't mind bc he could easily leave.  They were particularly cute the other day and so I went to take a picture of them and of course...they got up and walked out of the photo shoot.

Several of our cats are celebrating birthdays this weekend!  Smudge, Dolly and their late littermate Archie were 1.5 yo when we adopted them in September, 1995 so we assigned them a 3/15/94 birthday.  We have no idea when Clara was born so we lumped her in with 3/15, too.  Nosey was also 1.5 yo when we adopted him in late August, 2000 so we gave him a 3/15/1999 birthday.  The others - Edison, Miles & Lizzie - have birthdays later in the year.  In their honor, a birthday themed LOLCAT from I Can Has Cheezburger:

Crockpot Recipe: Macaroni & Cheese

I've been getting into using a crockpot lately.  I have an old, basic crockpot.  It makes huge amounts.   Kevin doesn't care to eat the same thing for dinner all week long.  The original dinner plus one dinner of leftovers, maybe two, is his limit.  (IIUC, crockpots should be 1/2 to 3/4 full to operate best, so you can't just make much smaller amounts in a big crockpot.)  Me, I could eat the same thing all week as long as it was yummy.  Actually, if someone else cooks for me I'll eat it even if it's yucky.  Thing is, Kevin does most of the dinner cooking around here (he made a delicious beef rib roast yesterday!) bc he's home by himself a few nights and he's more motivated than I am to have something more interesting than Cheerios.  Making crockpot dinners is my way of making my share of dinners.  Plus, it's easy and makes the whole house smell yummy. 

When I found this great crockpot cookbook, Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker Recipes for Two: For the Small Slow Cooker by Beth Hensperger, I took the opportunity to get a small (2 quart) crockpot.  This recipe is from the book, which is designed for crockpots from 1.5 to 3 quarts.  Notes and variations I made are in italics.  I did use my old crockpot for this recipe bc my new 2 quart one was way too small.  The book says, 'Serves 2 generously with leftovers'.  Two giants, maybe.  I think we got 6 servings out of this recipe.  Leftovers reheat and travel well.

As an aside, I don't know why 'crockpots' are now  called 'slow cookers'.  I mean, true, they do cook things slowly, but why bother with the name change?  I wonder if 'crockpot' sounds too old-fashioned and 'slow cooker' is a way to make 'crockpot' cooking more attractive to a new generation of cooks.  Bah.  I'll stick w/the old school 'crockpot'.

Cooker: 3 quart (I used my old big one; don't know what size it is.)

Settings and cook times: HIGH for 30 minutes, then LOW for 2 to 2.5 hours

Ingredients:

• 1-1/2 c. milk (I used 2% and it came out fine)
• one 12 oz. can evaporated milk (can use skim, fat free, whole...whatever version of evaporated milk you want)
• 3 large eggs
• 1/4 c. (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
• 3 c. (12 oz.) shredded Italian fontina cheese
  • did not find a fontina labelled 'Italian'; found and used a Swiss or Swedish fontina
  • use a 9 oz. block bc:
    • the cheese came in 9 oz. blocks and I didn't feel like opening a second block
    • the 9 oz. shredded up to 3 c.
    • I might try 12 oz. next time, but it was cheesey enough - even for me - with 9 oz.
• 1/2 lb. elbow macaroni or mini penne tubes, parcooked and drained
  • on my first go round w/this recipe:
    • I boiled the pasta until al dente and the pasta came out kinda bloated in the final product
    • I put the pasta in with the already assembled ingredients in the pot, which inlcuded the milk products, immediately after draining; that seemed to produce further cooking reaction which may have led to a chunkiness in the cheesy part in the final product that I did not care for
  • on my second go round:
    • I boiled the pasta for 3-4 minutes and the final product was  much better; could probably also get away with 2-3 minutes
    • I ran cold water over the pasta after draining and before adding it to the pot; no chunkiness in the final product
• freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1/2 c. grated Parmesan cheese
• in the second go round with this recipe, added:
  • bacon - approx. 3/4 lb. of crisp bacon, chopped
  • roasted red peppers - approx. 1/2 jar of drained, chopped roasted red peppers; could have used more, probably a whole jar, but this was what I had on hand
  • in future, will try adding other things like:
    • ham
    • chopped green veggies, e.g., asparagus, green beans, etc.
    • spinach

1. Spray the bottom and sides of the inside of the slow cooker with nonstick vegetable spray or grease with olive oil.
2. Combine the milk, evaporated milk, eggs, butter and salt in the slow cooker and whisk until smooth, by hand or using an immersion blender.
3. Add the fontina cheese and macaroni.
4. Grind plenty of black pepper over all; gently stir with a rubbert spatula to coat evenly.
5. Sprinkle the parmesan cheese on the top.
6. Cover and cook on HIGH for 30 minutes.
7. Reduce the temperature to LOW and cook for 2 to 2.5 hours, until the custard is set in the center and the pasta is tender.
8. Fold in optional ingredients (e.g., bacon, ham, veggies, etc.) approximately 1/2 hour before cook time ends.
9. The macaroni and cheese may sit in the cooker on the KEEP WARM setting for 30 minute before serving.

An aerial shot:

Close up of the cheesy goodness: