Last night Ted Hole passed away. Today has been frantic, sad and yet still. Personally I was not as close to him as many others, yet in a cliched sort of way he touched our lives very deeply.

Life, as always, goes on.

Bruce

Once again I feel like I'm writing to no one. Where's the other blogger?

Work and work and work and work. Sometimes time out for friends. Friends can be funny. Work is fun, but not often funny. Too much snood. Too much marking -- aieee! Three weeks left until finals. And then spring session begins and the process renews itself. Meanwhile, in other news, my graduate supervisor wrote to ask where the *&%$# my capping project is ... There's no incentive to finish. I'm already a failure at it. I missed the deadline for applying to doctoral school AGAIN -- do you think it's freudian? -- and I have no time to go to school anyway. So self-absorbed, mercy me.

Failing: falling and falling and falling and falling and

splat.

And so the bulb book was born. It made its appearance today. Most excellently lovely. Congratulations all around. Cheers ... yeah .. cheers, thanks a lot.

Well.

Cold cold cold. Tired tired tired. Am reading about my erroneous zones. Made a fantastic breakthrough and have been feeling tremendously happy since -- Monday! Too bad others don't / can't / won't understand. We're not all so well adjusted. Hmmph.

The move to the Centre for the Arts is well advanced and advancing well. Yesterday I was in a planning meeting for making over the editing courses. Sounds like I could be fabulously busy next year. And may be teaching English as well as writing. Would be lovely to have a lit course or two too. So all I must do is write my silly capping paper so I can collect my MEd, teach my spring course (should be fine -- I finally understood the syllabus today), spend the summer writing and editing and writing and editing, and then ...

Happiness at last.

All you need is love, right?

L

PS: Congratulations, Bruce. It's a beautiful book!

It's Sunday, Sunday, whoopee! Which only means that tomorrow is Monday, the day of crashing, piling craziness. I don't like Mondays, to be a bit cliched.

March has come in like a lion. Ugh. Though perhaps that bodes well for the end of the month. Poor Zak is sick. Bruce went to Calgary successfully. The Griffins won last night in a pretty phenomenal game, and I learned a lot of new stuff about hockey and goal-tending. Hmm. Too much to do, too few hours. I have written my PROW 200 exam and a supplemental version for those students who can't write with the rest of the class. Now to write the PROW 116 exam ... and come up with an in-class assignment for PROW 102 ... and do some marking ... and do some prep work for PROW 100 tomorrow night ... and finish Fay's edit ... Hmm. I was not a good managing editor because I start to quail when faced with competing priorities: can't figure out what to do first.

Who knew when I dropped Typing 10 all those years ago that I'd one day be able to keyboard so quickly?

Too much bad stuff happening in the world. I don't like knowing things I don't know. Ugh ugh ugh. Last week was not a happy time; so presumably this week coming can only be better. After all, now we have a retirement income -- should we ever retire ...

Gotta go!
L