In the bleak midwinter

Well, this past week was, er, different.  I was all torqued up to do the big lecture on the 9th, and then a snowstorm blew in--the second in as many weeks--so the lecture was cancelled and rescheduled for the 2nd of March.  That means I've got another week or so before I have to get torqued up again!  ha! ha! 

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We learned, during the recent snowstorms, that preschoolers don't have a whole lot of stamina when it comes to being cold, especially when it comes to their hands being cold.  We also learned that we need to get them proper gloves...those knit jobs don't really do the trick.

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I'm grading my first set of papers for the term, which is always an interesting experience.  Some problems are easy to point out and fix; other issues are more systemic and will take a lot more effort to address.  I know there are people who are quite effective at this; I'm always looking to do it a bit better--to be rigorous but encouraging at the same time.  Like so much else, it's a balancing act that I may have perfected by the time I retire.

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The Spouse is hanging on . . . just a few more days until TWH is expelled, and we get to see what he looks like.  She gets super-tired these days, and probably could use an extra pair of hands 24/7, but we're managing.  This would be the most demanding semester of my short career.  I am sort of curious to know how it will go this coming weekend.  It'll come soon enough.

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We need to think of a suitable nickname for TWH.  Maybe something will come to us when we see him. 

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I haven't been complaining about it, but I am concerned about my right elbow--the one I banged on the pavement when I slipped on the ice a couple of weeks ago.  I'm especially concerned that it's going to make it hard for me to ride my bike or do other exercises that I need to do.  Especially the bike.  I could give up the other stuff, but not that.  I may have to bow to necessity and go to the doctor this week.  Like I have time for that.

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Every once in a while, we get lucky and get to overhear one of the children singing to himself.  There's something extraordinarily sweet about hearing that . . . a singing child is a happy child.

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It's Olympic time.  Time for inspirational stories and dramatic finishes.  Don't care.