1. Remember my 9-8-7 plan? It's been going pretty well. I'm eating lots of produce (though not four servings of fruit per day) and running at least 7 miles a week most of the time. Getting myself to bed at 10:00, though, is proving much harder. Why do I stay up late when I know I will be happier if I go to bed? Who will rescue me from this body of death?
2. My idea was that I could diminish the seasonal affective crud that smites me every year by taking better care of myself physically. It seems to be helping. I am not weepy, mostly, although I cried when I read Matthew's death scene in Anne of Green Gables tonight. I've been having more trouble with Angry Jamie than Weepy Jamie.
3. Angry Jamie is not a frequent visitor in these parts. Remember last week, that thing I said about threatening plagiarists? For me to say aloud "I will kick your ass" -- let alone post it on the web -- is about as weird as the Incredible Hulk saying, "Jolly good fun! Have a crumpet!"
Not that I am usually a crumpet-passer, you understand.
4. So you guys, I have a job interview on Thursday. Prayers appreciated. I'm applying for a tenure-track job here and another one a couple of hours away. Oh, I have typed out and deleted the rest of this paragraph a preposterous number of times. I guess I'm feeling too cautious to blog about the whole deal, so I'll just say that I'd be grateful for your prayers.
5. I found a lovely surprise in my office today: a package all wrapped up with a bow. It was from the second-year students, who are leaving campus for their internships. There was a framed picture, and a pile of cards. Thank you, Dr. Gladly. I'll miss you, Dr. Gladly. I hope we can stay in touch for a long time, Dr. Gladly. It brought tears to my eyes to read them. (Wait, what was I just saying about Weepy Jamie?)
6. Three of the cards surprised me: they were from students with whom I'd had awkward grade conversations. That is one of my least favorite parts of my least favorite part of the job, you guys, when a student says, "I don't think I deserved this grade," and I have to say, "Actually, yes, you did." I guess I assumed they'd be perma-vexed with me for saying that an unhappy grade stood. I guess I was wrong.
7. This is my husband's 45th birthday. 45! Hard to believe. I made him an obituary cheesecake. Maybe I'll post the recipe tomorrow but I'm out of minutes tonight.
More quick takes at Jen's.
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