What's she building in there?

Maybe it's spring, maybe just me, but I feel lately like I'm "cooking things up" for lack of a better term. I see projects all around me (the front step needs to be rebuilt; the basement steps need to be rebuilt; the chimney needs to be rebuilt), but for some reason it doesn't bother me too much.

There's always a lot to do and I never get half of it done, but at least with spring on its way there are days ahead that won't be bugger-freezing cold. What allows this optimism to shoot up and out of the earth like spring herself?

Okay, here's the real deal. I'm doing an editing job for an acupuncturist and it's totally zenning me out. I'm getting chill and empowered just doing the copy editing. I foresee a whole new me acquired vicariously. I foresee this feeling of contentment descending and enveloping me. I foresee . . .
it not lasting, but maybe I'll get a few moments of calm outta the deal.

Here's some news. NYRI might be over, done, toast, but baby it ain't over til it's over (allusion guess, anyone?) Yes, folks should not put away their "STOP NYRI" posters yet. For anyone who reads a go go 2 from afar, I'll oversimplify: New York Regional Interconnect bad, central New York villages not getting destroyed and no power towers running down Genesee Street in Utica good. It's more complex than that, but hey this is my blog and I get to misrepresent all I want -- booyah!

In other news, I seem to have fallen into the pit of early spring break malaise I am often prone to. Ask any college teacher if his/her students check out the week before any break starts, and s/he'll tell you yes. Ask this college teacher "hey Murf, do you check out the week before spring break?" and I'll tell you yes. I have made virtually no progress on a set of papers I got last Thursday, and yesterday I realized I hadn't prepped anything for my bus com class (2:00) at 1:30. It was a good class, which sometimes happens when I fly by the seat. Clark, did Roger Schmidt ever give you his sage advice about prepping? It's brilliant and scary.

Well, I'll close with a tribute of sorts. Mr. Vincent Daniel Murphy, aka my pops, turned 98 yesterday. Last night I called him and we laughed our heads off. He's the sweetest man alive and I love him. Enough said.
Happy, happy day
Anybody wanna grade some papers?