Let me tell you something about Daylight Saving Time. Arizona doesn't do it. So now I've lived through eleven years of it--I left Arizona in '95--and I still think you people are all crazy. It's like self-imposed jetlag. Can't get up in the morning, can't get to bed at night. And now I'm sleeping late, missing my dark early mornings, getting sick, and remembering my dreams. And now I'm dreaming of bloggers too: last night J's James and I went swimming. At the old pool in Morenci, Arizona, no less. Which is buried under the mine now. And I kept thinking--because I was babysitting--when Trystan gets here we'll go to the river until their parents get back. We were going to look for spring minnows. Maybe even some tadpoles.

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Swim. Clearly.

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That's what days do when they let up, when you let up, after everybody I mean everybody's gone swimming. Taught two classes this morning filled with prospective students, a few parents. I vow to only do what I usually do in class on visiting days, but the whole experience is intensified in any case. Then a scramble to get Mary's honors committee together on Monday for one last push. Then a luncheon with visiting students and parents. Then a meeting with prospective students. Then two hours to settle rooms and venues for the Million Poems Show in October, dates and place for the Campus Diversity Committee meetings this term, a reminder that Off Knox is tonight, a few articles to dig up for the Romantics course, a glance at N's tenure narratives, another look at Mary's preface, a print out of the Dean's agenda for the next faculty meeting, Evan's story, N's essays, Jasper's manuscript, and the thus far still tweakable Romantics syllabus. Then coffee at Innkeeper's with the usual Friday crowd. Then dinner and drinks with the Metz's. Then the Off Knox open mic event, nine-thirty by now. Then?

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Oh and just to say, Blake kicks ass.

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