Today I wanted to go to some lectures on toxicology - I was the only one who showed up. As I rarely give a lecture for which I am unprepared to an empty room, I took the subway back to the main campus to spend some time goofing off on the computer. My broken arm is feeling better and I get my cast off in ten days, the day after the match. It's still awkward and frustrating to type (the cast constantly bumps into the Ctrl and Alt keys). In spite of the chaos of the unanticipated computer commands, a true artist soldiers on.

News of the kids:

El Destructo has discovered the sandwich. Previously, he subsisted entirely on a diet of processed meat, frosting, and cold pizza. On Sunday, there was a cold cut spread at church and he asked me to make him a ham and cheese sandwich - which he ate! Now, as long as processed meat is wrapped in the middle, he will heat bread! He came running up the stairs as I was shaving to show me his breakfast this morning, "Look Daddy! A bologna-sandwich-toast!"

May still hates getting her hair washed. I've told her again and again, "When water gets in your eyes, wipe it away." No dice. The other day, it was time for her to take a bath, and I suggested they would get their hair washed. The kids are used to getting their hair washed every other bath/shower, and a bath/shower every other day. May screamed at me, "DAD, WE JUST HAD OUR HAIR WASHED YESTERDAY! WE SHOULD NOT BE GETTING OUR HAIR WASHED AGAIN!" A tiny purple vein at the base of her neck leaped and pulsed with every forceful shout. I'm used to evaluating the discourse of my children with skepticism, but how could one deny the pulsing vein? Later, May's story was corroborated by my wife.

Both kids have been excited about the possibility of moving after the match. They've been "packing" off and on. May told us, "If we move to Chicago or Wisconsin, that would be great. If we stay at our house in New Jersey, that would be great. I'm excited for either!"