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Nora is closing in on her third month of being out of the womb.  Abby has learned to answer that she is two-and-a-half (rather than just two).  I’m far enough into my teaching contract to have a halfway-decent grasp of my students by not far enough in to feel like the year will ever end.  Halloween has come and gone (Abby was Dorothy and Nora was a flying monkey).  The weather has turned from damp and cold to the bare edge of winter and then back to something that is actually kind of nice, making recess duty less of an ordeal.

I’m into the second-last book in The Sandman series, which will leave me with very little Neil Gaiman left to read before I have exhausted his body of work; I am deeply, deeply saddened by this fact.  (And if that isn’t the definition of a first-world problem, I don’t know what is.)

My movie watching has been limited to whatever is on Netflix or on satellite, meaning everything I have seen is woefully out-of-date or not particularly good.  (The standout steaming pile was Ridley Scott’s absolutely pathetic Robin Hood, a movie that managed to combine awful casting, a mangled script, excruciating inconsistency, and historical inaccuracy at every possible level.  I feel that I am owed a few hours of my life back.)

I take lots of pictures, but I don’t have much time to edit them, so I now have a backlog of some 500 to run through Photoshop.  This is the first piece of writing I have produced in weeks.  Somewhere in there I need to rework my thesis to reflect something about which I am actually interested.  Also, I broke the shower and am two weeks into a complete rebuild of that corner of the bathroom.  I am not qualified to do this work.

I choose to do it anyway.

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