At that Point

It’s April. We’re at the point in the semester when I honestly don’t know how I will accomplish all the things that still need to be done. I look at the assignments I have on my desk, look at the ones to come in, and despair of ever finishing responding to them. It’s also the point where all my careful machinations break down. The late policy, the requiring of drafts to be submitted with essays, the don’t email me your work, the round robin digital peer review. It all comes crashing down now before it all is eventually sorted out and the semester ends and everyone is happy for summer.

I was talking with a friend on Wednesday about conferences next year, and we’d both like to go to the C19 on in Chapel Hill in March, but I told her that I’m reluctant to ever do a spring conference again. By the time we deal with two breaks, going to a conference just saps momentum out of the Spring semester. But I know the conference would be fun and valuable, and probably I’d be interested in every panel, because 19th century American literature is what I do now. We’ll see. It’s a long way off.

In other news, I’m taking a reprieve today because a meeting I was supposed to have today has been rescheduled, so I am going to take the boys downtown to see the cherry blossoms. I mentioned to my friend Liz the other day that I’m dying to see them this year, and Seamus was listening, so now, he wakes up and tells me he’s dying to see the cherry blossoms. We’ll make it happen.

Gilbert was out riding his bike the other day, when he laid it over. Patrick asked him what was wrong, and he said it needed new wheels. So he went over to the grass and pretended to pick up two new wheels, which he then took over to the bike and pretended to put on. He also replaced the handlebars. Seamus’s latest is counting in French, Spanish, and English. He also claims to want to learn to count in German, but every time we work on it, he falls over laughing when he gets to 2. “Eins, Vines” he says.

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