"If it kills me ... and it may"

That was my "joke" with the 102s today: that I will have everything--everything--returned to them on Monday. It won't actually kill me, of course, but it will require a hell of a hard grind, including the "day off" tomorrow. I probably shouldn't do my fun things on Friday (violin lesson, horseback riding lesson), but I will allow myself that day for life maintenance--including the maintenance to my psychic well-being that is provided by music and horse time. But tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday: grind.

I'm posting in a bit of a hurry here, as I'm going to meet Paul to ride the train into the City for my dinner date with him, William, and Kristin. The rapid post is actually OK, however, as I don't have much to report on the day. I called in sick to Advisement (or e-mailed in sick, I should say), so I could have a more leisurely morning at home (still metaphorically in bunny slippers at 10:30, which was bliss), and then I came to the office. I did a little noodling, marked some homework for the SF classes--but the enormous, steaming piles of stuff for the 102s is already at home, ready to spontaneously combust on my living room table. I have a little more to add, as I have the latest round of reading notes in my bag for today, but I schlepped the enormous stacks home last night, along with my beautiful editor's desk, for which I am eternally grateful to the magnificent Ed Sampson III.

And there it will all sit until tomorrow. It's an open question whether I'll get to it before I have to take a cat to the vet, but once cat and I are again home (cat literally hiding under the sofa, me wishing I could join him), I'll embark on that adventure.

As for today, both classes went well. I started off talking about their next essay--due in a week, god help us all--and the particulars of how to quote poetry, but when we turned our attention to the poems for today, the students did pretty well. The first two were "easy": Charles Bukowski's "Me Against the World" and David Budbill's "What I Heard at the Discount Department Store." One student asked why some poems are so straight-forward--like a story only written out weird--and others are so weird, so we talked a bit about the fact that poetry is intended to make us feel as well as think (or maybe feel more than think)--but somehow, starting with those two poems made it easier for the students to understand the more "poetic" poems by Sharon Olds: "Saturn" and "The Guild." The first class could easily have run long; the second ended a little early--but the discussion was equally good in both.

And now, I'm going to make sure I have everything I need to put in the car with me; I'll check e-mail one more time ... then off I go. I may post tomorrow and/or over the weekend, as my brain will be deeply into dealing with students, but if not, certainly I'll be back online on Monday.