Happy New Year!

I have an excuse. A bout of bronchitis did me in for most of November, a tectonic style upheaval that estranged me from my trusty pair of running shoes for nearly 5 weeks, a dangerous consequence for students and family alike, who had to witness the emotional fallout of someone without her daily endorphin high. But alas, school is out, and, shameless self-promotion to follow - I won two teaching awards! Thus I’ve given myself permission to be a professional flake for 30 full days. Translation: time to play with the boy and the dog, bake sweets for the family’s unquestionable winner of Fastest Metabolism (ahem, that’s Casey, of course), and to read more novels by the intrepid Paul Theroux. Last night I finished “Dark Star Safari”, and while Theroux can be a tad vulgar in his portrayal of the la-dies, his overland trip from Cairo to Cape Town alights in me a jealousy that cannot be extinguished. If only it were so easy to rid the psyche of such wanderlust. I was once advised that after traveling, new places begin to seem identical. Not so, in the places where Theroux eats and sleeps. He is my hero!

As readers know, our family is in the process of planning a 2011 expedition, and we’ve received some promising news this week. The final hiccup has been silenced. A wonderful young lady who shall remain nameless has agreed to watch our furry young canine during our absence. My only regret is that we can’t shrink Kiwi down “Fantastic Voyage” style and transport her on the adventure. A promise: more details will follow as soon as the paperwork is in the pipeline.

On other fronts, frigid weather in Colorado has been horrid enough to warrant talk of a geographic break up. Frankly, we need to move a space on the global grid where only Fall and Spring exist. Not possible. Still, in the forlorn hour of 3am, I irritably perused online job adverts on campuses from Florida and North Carolina, remembering a sweaty interview in St Pete back in 2001. As I walked with a colleague outside the Humanities building, I saw dolphins in the inlet adjacent to campus, just yards from my sensible shoes and fraying blue suit. I stayed in a Key West-style Conch House with swaying palms outside the window. I know that the grass is always greener but I’d pay good money to see a single verdant blade of emerald prairie right now in this whitewashed cul-de-sac. (Ironically, we got that Florida gig but chose Wisconsin instead).