Just called N and he said that Klara is happy, she sleeps and plays all day, and he’s not in the least tired. 

He is asking if he can spend every day like this.

Bastard.

The semester is 2/3 done. I’m teaching 3 classes with about 70 students in total. And in all this time I haven’t had a single problem with cell phone use in the classroom. I never prohibit cell phone usage and refuse to police it. But students behave as if they didn’t know cell phones existed. Everybody is present, engaged, and actively participating. With no humiliating policing on my part. 

This is what I call teaching. 

I’m at work, resting. Because 6 lecture hours and 2 meetings is rest for me at this point in my life.

Caught a bit of Neil Gorsuch inquiry on the news before leaving. He’s like those job candidates we hate to interview, wasting everybody’s time with endless verbiage aimed at pleasing everybody and committing to nothing. 

“Which of these textbooks would you prefer to use in this course?”

“Well, an argument could be made for both of these excellent textbooks.”

“Yes, it could. Please make one for the book you would prefer to use.”

“Well, they are both excellent textbooks and one could argue convincingly in favor of either of them.”

“Is there maybe another textbook you’ve used that you like?”

“Well, an argument could be made in favor of any of the excellent textbooks on the market.”

And so on, interminably.

Klara is such a sweet, kind person. Last night, she woke up at 3 am and just wasn’t sleepy any more. Problem is, I was. I took her downstairs, put her in the pram, and tried to rock her to sleep. 

The poor, brave child made every effort to fall asleep or pretend she was sleeping for my sake. And then I stumbled on something in the dark and something fell to the ground. And that’s when Klara couldn’t help herself, and I heard a very bright, not at all sleepy “uh-oh!” coming from the pram.

I looked inside, and she was staring at me with what, I swear, was very much like embarrassment. It was as if she were saying, “I’m sorry, ma, I tried, but it’s not happening.”

So I took her out and we played in the living room until morning. 

She’s suffering a lot because of the teeth but she’s trying hard to be happy in the moments when the pain abates. And that makes it all much easier for me to deal with. 

At least, N really understands. He brought a huge bouquet of roses for me today. 

Tomorrow, he’s staying home with Klara, so I’ll owe him a bouquet. Or maybe a huge steak. Or both. 

To illustrate how harsh this is: I haven’t cooked anything in three days! N will have to eat pelmeni, like a typical Soviet bachelor when he gets home tonight. 

And the worst part is that the dang conference just has to be this week. I’m leaving on Thursday. I was so looking forward to the conference  (my close friend Ol.! Seafood! Romantic memories of Baltimore! CV clinic! Hotel gym! Red Emma’s!) but now I don’t want to go. 

Sorry, folks, I’m not much fun today. Klara’s got at least 4 teeth coming out simultaneously plus conjunctivitis in both eyes. I had to cancel work  (not teaching but some service meetings) today. 

Please share whatever you’ve got because I don’t mind some distraction. 

Something horrible happened in this town. A 32-year-old mother of 7 shot their father in the head, set the house on fire, and drove into a lake with the 3-month-old youngest baby. 

The baby was rescued from the lake by a paramedic and survived in spite of the freezing temperature. All seven kids have survived, and the town is collecting things and money for them. 

The father seems to have been a total deadbeat. He left the family and moved out of state. The mother divorced him back in 2012 and worked two jobs to make ends meet. But the creep came back and fathered more children while punching around the older ones. There were dozens of 911 calls from the house in the last year. Finally, the woman seems to have snapped. She has recently given birth and was probably not in a good mental state. 

This is all going on literally next door. 

The chair of the MLA panel I applied for sent me such a beautifully written, typically Spanish, extremely florid and convoluted response that I have no idea if the proposal has been accepted. 

Maybe I’ll use the email as a classroom assignment and ask students to decipher it.