I feel like I haven’t seen my friends in forever (hello friends). They told us to tell our friends goodbye at the start of the term. They weren’t kidding. It’s not just the hours and the work; I am just exhausted from being on stage for six hours a day. I am asleep most nights before ten p.m. Are blogs for kvetching? They are today!

So the Ides of March are now behind us. My nine months in the land of wagon has come to an end (ET TU Brute Champaign). My folks are in town, and have been since Tuesday, but I haven’t seen them yet because of the schedule. We’re doing a pot luck at Sister #2’s tonight and a party at Sister #1’s tomorrow (numbered to reflect years on the earth, not preference). The party tomorrow is poorly timed as I am free to drink and St. Louis is putting on a fine St. Pat’s day drunk with the Dog Town Parade.

St. Louis is known for many fine traditions, but the public drunk is one of the most important and spectacular. The word hasn’t gotten out nationally because they are so good that no one remembers them. People, being creatures of habit, attend every year because they vaguely recall parking and walking in the year before. Less clear is the recollection of hunting for their car in an unfamiliar neighborhood on the following afternoon.

I am also on Spring Break as of tomorrow. How cool is that, to be an adult and still get spring break. Teaching offers me the two Vs: Vocation and Vacation (I think I like one more than the other, but trying to decide leads to vacillation). I could also work ventilation, vagary, and voluminous into my free association on V words, but I imagine that you’d vacate the vicinity and leave me to my own vapidity.

I am only just off the meds and think it wise to ease back into the hot water of the thinking, drinking life. We do have a bash planned for BJ’s birthday at months’ end. And so shall we “March” - in like a lion, out on the inflatable lamb. Apparently hotel rooms are already reserved to parachute the weak at head into the next day’s overages (hung and otherwise hampered (headily harangued by hazy homunculi)). Apparently I’ve left Pandora’s Dictionary open somewhere in the apartment. I best go close it and abscond with the salad to Sister #2’s abode.

Did nine months really go by that fast? People say that all the time… it was actually closer to ten.