Almost Easter

So, it's almost Easter. And I'm this close to having a son (holding up thumb and forefinger really close together). Now that we're finally on break, I can breathe and sit back and wait. Well, actually, by sit back, I mean run around like crazy, but at least somewhat less crazily than last week. Last week almost killed me.

Steph will be off from school probably for the rest of the school year. I'm off for a week, and then I'll be off and on after the baby comes until I use up most of my sick days. I can't wait for this summer. Three months of delightfulness! I can't wait to walk Henry around in the stroller. My sister got us this awesome stroller that has speakers on it and a way to plug up an mp3 player. How cool is that? I've been mentally sorting my music collection to see which songs would be appropriate to play. I've made a lullaby collection of sorts, and I bought the They Might Be Giants new children's CD, Here come the 123's. I also found these awesome lullaby cds of great rock band hits turned into lullabies. I got the Eagles, so Henry and I can jam to a really soft version of "Hotel California." I'd like to get the Beatles, U2, and a few others.

Aside from the fun tunes in the stroller, I've also been planning which books we're going to read together. I've received (and bought) a decent starter collection of Dr. Seuss, as well as a handful of other books, including Goodnight Gorilla, a cool book about a Gorilla who sneaks home from the zoo to the zookeeper's house to snuggle in his bed. But of course, first we have to read Shakespeare's Henry V together. I plan on reading him the complete works of Shakespeare by the time he turns two. I haven't entirely decided which the second one will be. Any suggestions?

Alright, well, it was fun chatting, but I've got to get back to work. Have a great day!

Waiting on the Printer...Flower talk

Well, it's pushing one am, and I'm still waiting on my printer to finish printing 200 programs for tomorrow's National Honor Society Induction Ceremony. I think I'd be more excited about this great experience for the talented, service-minded young people at school if I didn't feel like it has eaten up every bit of my wife's and my life for the past few weeks. It was kinda surprise-sprung on us, and you know Steph--gotta get it right. Well, it'll be done right, but I'm pretty tired. I finished all of my grading to speak of this weekend, a feat of which I'm rather proud. I suppose I can go a few more days without sleeping; I've got Good Friday off and then the next week is our break.

The flowers are coming up in my lawn. I'm so glad. Last year they were so beautiful and surprising. Experiencing the first spring in our house allowed us to be surprised every time something new, which we had been unable to previously identify suddenly burst into bloom. Unfortunately, an untimely late frost last year not only knocked out our flowers, but even one of our trees. And then the awful hot weather finished off a few more. Add all that to the fact that I don't care for foliage well, and you get a pretty dead landscaping job. However, several plants are bursting into bloom again: our daffodils, these purply blue flowers, some long stemmed purple flowers... and of course the dandelions.

I love the dandelions. It's nice that they come back no matter how you try to eradicate them. I never try though. They're always sunny and smell like candy corn and childhood. Also, when I was younger I heard a legend that if you have someone you love far away, you can blow your love to them on the dandelion, and the little seed fliers will carry the message. Being a particular romantic, I've taken that to heart and always wish my love to all the people in my life who are too far away or who are gone forever. And so I never mow them down; I let them grow wherever they like.

The Rosemary bush is also symbolic. It represents love, sorrow, and loneliness. It's my favorite, even more than the dandelions. Steph always thinks I let it grow too big, but I can't bear to cut it back. It seems like the sort of bush that can really sympathize when you're having a bad day.

Hm. I'm looking forward to sitting outside over break. I hope the weather's nice. Ah, one side of the programs finished. Only another hour and a half to go. Goodnight everyone!

Overworked but rather blessed

I have too much to do. I wish I could spend some time just sitting in my library reading a book (or writing one). I wish I could ignore the countless hours of stuff I need to do that isn't going to get done anyway. I wonder what it would be like to have a job that didn't come home with me (several hours after I should have gone home), eat dinner with me, spend the evening with me, go to bed with me and then get up four to six hours later with me to go back to my "official" place of work. I have meetings this week in the evenings. Grades are also due for progress reports. I've had to miss poetry night two weeks in a row. And I have piles of grading which I cannot even imagine finishing. Why is this so normal? I've quoted Tennyson's "The Lotus Eaters" so often it's beginning to feel tiresome: "Why are we weighed upon with heaviness/and utterly consumed with sharp distress/while all things else have rest from weariness?" I still don't know.

But the parents of my kids have been awesome and ever so encouraging. I'm glad of that; I don't think I could handle discouragement right now. And I've got great friends who are praying for me. And best of all, I'm going to have a little baby boy in mere weeks, which will not only be a joy added to all of this chaos, but it also means that Steph will be off the rest of the year, and I won't have to worry about her overworking herself anymore. He'll also give me an excuse to blow off the million things I have to do and just play. I already know which Shakespeare play we're going to read together first. (Henry the Fifth, of course!)

Well, until then, I'll keep working. Take care everyone!

A really cool dream

So, I had a great dream. I haven't had a good, happy dream in two years. Really. They've all been about the same melancholy dreams until the last couple months when they started being "stress about the new kid" dreams. And then suddenly, my REM sleep cranks out a cool one. I was fighting the Phantom of the Opera! We were chasing each other up these ropes to the top of the Opera Garnier and fighting up there. Finally, I managed to knock him back so he ran away, but I was left hanging by my finger tips onto a bookshelf up near the ceiling, dangling over the opera. At the very end, I was looking at the shelf, trying to decide which book I should take as a souvenir of my fight, and wondering how much longer I could hold on. Then Steph woke me up. She said I was grunting and panting really loudly in my sleep, and she was afraid I was having a nightmare. I was rather glad she woke me though, or I might not have remembered it.
Ah, lovely.

Introduction

So, I had to create a blog in order to post a comment on Nathan Shank's blog. I don't blog much, though I sometimes send email updates to my friends. Anyway, I thought I'd give it one more go. Then I had to think of something interesting to title it. So, after debating for ten minutes, then walking around my library and staring at the shelves, I finally came up with "Singing-Masters of my Soul" which line most of you can probably identify. If you can't, well, then I won't tell you, so you can have the fun of looking it up. But it's talking about who and what makes your soul go on even when your body is wearing out. In spite of the fact that I'm still young and in good health, I sincerely appreciate the "singing-masters," those who teach me what life and love and beauty are all about, considerably more than my physical existence. All those people who I love and value deeply--the ones who teach me and make me grow and make me want to be better than I am. Thanks.