I’m happy to report that this week’s music class was more successful than last. I masterfully averted disaster by coercing Dan’s brother John, a fine young college man, to join us.

I had John in the palm of my hand after I had Shef do the asking himself. I mean, I’m sorry, but what self-respecting Early Music major could resist his three-year-old nephew/God-child begging for his presence at Musical Discoveries?

Not a one. And since Shef behaves far worse for me than for anyone else, we managed to get through the class without any direct blows.

I’m back from a fun weekend in Nashville with some fave pals.

I know I should be grateful for having such fabulous adventures back-to-back, but instead I’m brattily feeling sort of blah about my real life.

Not two hours after I got home, Shef woke up sick, and now he has a fever and red eyes and a scratchy throat. I’ll admit that I sent him to school dosed on Tylenol this morning and hoped he’d make it through the day; but tomorrow, I’m simply going to have to stay home. It’s the only acceptable option.

First, Dan's trial ended last week, so he will no longer be sojourning to Iowa for months at a time. Woot.

Also, We went to Paris last weekend for our first real get-away from Shef. He had a fabulous time with his grandparents, so much so that I think he feels a little let down by just us. We can't compete with a days at the ski hill, building a marshmallow and frosting castle, and a Lightning McQueen sheets set.

Perhaps his dissatisfaction with his real life is why he hit me with his rhythm sticks at music class tonight?



No matter how cute the kid, it always sucks to be the one trying to restrain your offspring while everyone else Too-da-la's while trying diligently not to make eye-contact.

Today there was a pepfest, and this kid dressed up like Meatloaf and writhed around on the floor to “I Would Do Anything for Love.” Then, he exited the stage on a razor scooter.

That, my friends, is called entertainment.

Afterwards, I went back to my classroom and tried to teach about Odysseus and Calypso in Book V of Homer’s masterpiece. It was hard to start because Billy, one of my usual suspects, was singing his own version of the Meatloaf classic: “I would do anything thing for Ms. W., but I won’t do FridayFreeWrite.”

Then some students questioned O’s love for Penelope, since he’d been "losing himself in love" with the goddess every night.

“No one would’ve expected Odysseus to remain faithful to Penelope,” I explained. “All the Trojan War heroes had concubines during the fighting. Plus, he’s been away from home for seventeen years.”

“Ms. W.,” interrupted Billy, “I just want you to know that if I were Odysseus and you were Penelope, I would totally wait twenty years.”

Oh-kay.

After class, my teaching pal Rachel and I compared notes. She’d been discussing Odysseus’s first day in Phaeacia, when the princess and her maids are bathing in the water together and anointing each other with oil.

“Um,” broke in one of her male pubescents, “I think I had a dream like that once.”

I have to admit it’s nice to know it’s not just me.

As you may remember, my sister got us a betta for Christmas. Buddy is a nice little fish. I like to feed him and watch him swim around in his purple tank.

I guess I find taking care of Buddy to be therapeutically simple. It’s easier than taking care of Shef, although, I’ll admit, not quite as rewarding.

The bottom line is there’s not as much at stake. If something goes wrong with Buddy, I’ll just flush and replace.

I like Buddy so much, I’m thinking of getting a betta for the sophs. I know they’d enjoy one of their own. We could talk to it about The Odyssey. We could have the betta act out the part of Scylla, the six-headed sea monster. We could pretend the betta is one of the seals that hangs out with Menelaus on the island of the Old Man of the Sea.