Caroline Fryar

So, apart from today, things have been a little quiet around the blog lately. And that can mean maybe a couple of things.

A: my readings & rereadings of Catullan Provocations, my meticulous parsing of Pindaric Odes (always, for some reason, heart-fluttering over ἄωτον, finest fleece), and their attendant warrens of academic literature have finally caught up with me, and I’ve had to let the blog and the knitting fall by the desk-side.

B!: I’ve got such an enormously lifechanging amount of fantastic news, I don’t even know where to begin, or what to say. Or maybe I’m just afraid that this is all too perfect, that it somehow won’t work out, or that it never happened at all.

The correct answer is: B!

Where to begin: how about with Thank You.

Preliminary Questions: No, I’m not pregnant. No, I haven’t just recently fallen in love with anybody. No, the ghosts of Hannah Arendt & David Grene don’t teach classes at the University of Chicago.

Finally Getting to the Point: I get to be Juniper Moon Farm‘s new Farm Manager! (Click on that link, but don’t tab over there quite yet– because once you do, it’ll be four hours of irresistible sheep-enchantment later, and you will be enthralled and in love and powerfully jealous of my new life, plus, you’ll’ve entirely forgotten about the rest of my story)

Let’s Back Up: Through the pure lucky timing of spring break & free time, I started perusing the job postings on Ravelry mere days before I ran across this:

and so that led me to this, which made me look around suspiciously.

Goodness gracious, do they know who I am? Someone has created a job advertisement perfectly geared toward specifically-me in order to… capture me for some reason? Make me make good on all of the jokes (“Haha, well, if grad school doesn’t work out, guess I’ll just run away and that’s plan B, become a shepherd!”) that I have been making since I was in high school!?

And then it made me leap around and tell all my friends and act like, maybe, a cat with a strand of Christmas popcorn tied to its tail– a lot of crazy, noisy scampering. A lot of blog-reading (that link! it’s so wonderful & dangerous! click it anyway!), a lot of friend-torturing (“Do you think I’ll get the job?” and “What if she doesn’t call!?” and “I just sent you this email to tell you I am in an ABSOLUTE MOIL!”), and a lot of imaginary conversations with my professors (ranging from the tactful– well, reading the Eclogues has always been my favorite because, see, I’ve got this thing for sheep– to the blunt(er)– I’m going to go be a shepherdess, so, um, bye!).

This came in handy, because, as rarely ever happens in anyone’s life, I actually got to deploy those crazy sentences I’d been concocting.

How crazy is it to walk into class and answer your professor’s “So, how’s your future looking? Hear from any schools over break?” with, “Um well actually I am going to go be a shepherdess instead!” ?

“Well, that’s a surprise! …and I did just have you all read the Eclogues over break”

One honorable explication from academia (droppin’ outta school– who would have ever thought!?), a few station-wagons full of books sent home (ave atque vale, small personal classics library), and many serious conversations with my parents (and sisters. and Zac’s parents. and friends. I have told this same story so many times that I am tempted to put together a little F.A.Q., running the gamut from “are you sure you won’t pass out, once those sheep placentas start flying? ever docked a tail? castrated…anything?” and “aren’t you wasting your education!? your brilliant mind!?” to “can I come visit you every day oh my god look at the lambs! those lambs! puppies!”) later, and I’m all set to drive up to Palmyra on Monday.

I just. Wow. This is happening. I think I just turned a real hard corner. Wow. Thank you.