"The Flooded Cowpath"

Dear Friends,

My regular Thursday blog post has turned into a Saturday post this week because Albus Andrew pushed back my Thursday tutorial to Friday, thereby entirely confusing my normal routine. That is to say, need not worry that I died.

I have found that I usually like to start out these posts by regaling you with the tale of my latest debacle. The angsty situtation for this week can properly be deemed: "The Flooded Cowpath."

Alas, think back to the angsty situation of two posts past--the canceled tutorial and the snow-covered, icy hill--that story should transition quite nicely into this story because lots and lots of snow, when melted, turns into lots and lots of water.

As I set out last Friday morning for my tutorial with Albus Jonathan, clicking down the lane with my newly attained trendy Euro boots, I thought I might take the scenic footpath that winds blissfully around one of the university parks. However, I hadn't gone too far down this path when I came to a locked door preventing me from going any further across the bridges (locked doors are becoming a bit of a motif, aren't they?). Considering the situation, I deduced that the water was too high, and that the path had flooded and I would have to go around. I then proceeded to click much more quickly with my trendy Euro boots, as I now had to trace my steps back and then take an entirely different path. I might also mention that at this point, the newly attained trendy Euro boots had caused a blister the size of a golf ball to form on my right foot. Regardless, I did not want to be late for my tutorial with Albus Jonathan so I clicked feverishy on.

When I had gotten a little ways down the new path, a friendly British woman with even more trendy Euro boots stopped and informed me that the path I was heading towards was completely flooded over.
"Oh no," I said, glancing at her knee-high trendy Euro boots, "what did you do? Did you get wet?"
"No, I didn't go through--it's too deep--I turned around."

The blasted snow was going to get the best of me once more.

I was already running slightly behind for my tutorial, and if I were to turn around now and pick another new path, I would be at least 40 minutes late. Thus, having not yet seen the water level, I forged ahead. As I rounded the corner and the field path came into view, I saw that the path was indeed covered with nearly a foot of what could not be described as gently, gurgling water. However, having no choice at this point, I stooped down, pulled off my newly attained trendy Euro boots and socks, rolled up my pants like a young girl excited to go frog-hunting, and moved my way confidently into the gushing stream.

I cannot say that this was a good idea.

I did remember that it happened to be the middle of the winter while I was wading through the foot of ICE COLD water. Thus, I did what any girl would do as she waded barefoot through 300 yards of frigid terror. I cussed unabashedly.

When I got to the other side, my pants were soaked up to the thigh from the splashing water, and I was very, very cold. I shoved my feet back into my trendy Euro boots, minus the socks, and hoped that I had not contracted syphilis by wading through the water with my golf ball sized blister. Now being about 15 minutes from the location of my tutorial, I thought that I might be able to make it without dying.

I arrived finally at the house and was greeted by a nice lad and ushered in. Albus Jonathan poked his head into the doorway.
"Hello Sara."
"Hi," (looking downward) "It seems I got my pants quite wet. The cowpath is really flooded. Is there by chance a girl around that I might borrow some pants from?" (Remember, Albus Jonathan is the RD-type person for the other house students live in).

Albus Jonathan looked around and found me a girl who provided me with a lovely pair of sweatpants and put my own soaked pants in the dryer. I then proceeded to have a wonderful tutorial with Albus Jonathan in my socks and newly attained sweatpants. Having finished, I retrieved my warm and dry pants from the dryer, returned the lovely sweatpants, and headed out for the rest of my day in town.

Roughly six hours later, as I was walking back to my home for the evening, something struck me. Pants, in British-English mean UNDERWEAR. Thus, I had arrived for my tutorial, promptly informed my tutor that I had gotten my underwear wet, and asked if I might borrow some dry underwear from a nearby female. Oh. My. Goodness. I laughed joyfully all the way home. I had always been worried, and therefore conscientious, that I was going to make that mistake, but in the aftermath of my angst-filled debacle, I had completely forgotten to make the differentiation. Dearest me.

You ought to be glad, you know, that I have no common sense and get myself into these situations. They're probably going to end up being the highlight of my trip.

In other news, since last week I have comsumed my first, and second, Guinness. I am quite pleased that I enjoyed it as doing such was I believe my third listed goal in coming here. I have found a friend that enjoys going to the pub and discussing theology over drinks. Of this, I am most glad. A discussion of universalism makes a pint go down so much more smoothly.

I hate to tell you this, but I am enjoying Oxford a lot lately. A lot, a lot. I enjoy the clicking of my trendy Euro boots as I travel the 45 minutes into the city--I enjoy the crowded streets--and I especially enjoy the books I read and the essays I produce. I had a chat this past week with the "cutest, most brilliant English woman in the history of ever"/senior tutor for our program. When I had submitted to her the required progress report for how I thought my tutorials were going, I had mentioned that I was a bit concerned because Albus Andrew never gave me any feedback, and therefore I wasn't necessarily sure how to improve. She imformed me that Albus Andrew, in his own progress report on me, had reported that I was doing really very well.
"Albus! I wish you would tell ME that!"
He had also offered to be my long essay/"dissertation" advisor, which is not the norm, as he is an outside tutor. Thus, I'm going to get to keep Albus Andrew for another 4 weeks after my tutorial finishes.

I'm starting to like Albus Andrew so much. During my tutorial yesterday, I just wanted to give him a hug and bake him a casserole. Nonetheless, doing such might be the most inappropriate thing possible one could do to one's tutor. Also, I've never baked a casserole. Do you even bake a casserole? Or do you cook it? No one really knows.

For next week's tutorial, I get to describe and account for the distinctive emphases of the Gospel of John and answer why it was written. I am SO excited. As I begin doing some of my reading, I remembered/realized that John is most certainly my favorite Gospel. It is the best. I could definitely be a Johannine scholar and spend the rest of my life steeped in that literature. Not only does the 4th evangelist present a superhuman Jesus as speaking "as no man has ever spoken" (7:46), but he also portrays Jesus in a very human way--getting tired, weeping, having friends, engaging in long drawn-out discussions with his opponents (rather than the polished one-liners of the Synoptics). John is both so hard and so easy to understand. Scholars have described it anecdotally as a Gospel in which both an elephant can swim and a child can wade. Needless to say, I am super excited for this week's studies.

Also, to keep you updated, I have decided to do my "dissertation" on what the non-canonical Gospels offer to the discussion of the historical Jesus. I ended up picking this because it was the topic Albus Andrew had offered to advise me on, and I thought having his input would be fantastic as he is currently writing a book on the non-canonical Gospels. Booyah. Can't beat that eh? And he's going to hook me up with a super sweet bibliography.

Alas, I should probably go read now. It s a delightfully beautiful day and perhaps even warm enough to lounge outside with my books. Joy.

Best,
Sara