RBOC

What is it with Dr. Crazy and hir crazy lists?

(For those who don’t know: in the blogosphere, gender-neutral pronouns are all the rage.   So, she and he become “zhe,” while his and her become, yep, “hir.”  I think it’s a bit lame, actually, but in keeping with the not-so-lame practice of preserving fellow blogger’s anonymity, I must refer to Dr. Crazy and “hir” lists like this.)

And now for my list, or RBOC:

• I submitted the book proposal and can expect to hear back from the press in March.  Wait, I already blogged about this.
• I heard back from Big Journal about an article I sent out in December: it has “met certain standard criteria” according to the Head Honcho at Big Journal (a very prominent name in my area), and so it is now under further peer review.  I get a stomachache whenever I think about it.  The article is not very good.  I’m surprised Head Honcho actually gave it a thumbs up.
• Bump is talking up a storm.  He now says glockenspiel.  I’m totally serious.  And he’s beginning to look at me in a very knowing way that sometimes freaks me out: he’s turning into a little boy!
• Mr. P and I had dinner with our neighbors (also parents to a boy only child).  They have confirmed for me, once again, the beauty of the family of three.  The dinner was so good: beef stew, salad, a variety of whole grain breads, and homemade lemon bars (everything was ‘homemade’ except for the bread, actually).
• While at said neighbors’ house, Bump unwittingly destroyed their son’s “marble maze,” a toy block structure he had “spent the entire day” building.  Bump had no idea what he had just done.  And I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it was after it happened.  I saw the dad look at his son, with that “oh man, how is he going to take this?” look).  The next thing I know, I hear thee son literally crying to the mother in the kitchen.  It was awkward.  But then it got easier, once the eight year old son decided to snap out of it.  He really lost it, folks.  Meanwhile, my little dude was busy trying to make best friends with the family cat.  Joy.
• I have to read a few books and some articles for a conference paper I haven’t written.  The conference is at Harvard.  And it’s in less than two months.  Holy Crap.
• I’m teaching Jose Antonio Villarreal’s novel Pocho tomorrow.  This one always pleases the students, and this, in turn, pleases me.  I look forward to talking about the “assimilationist perspective” of the “interwar period.”  Really, I do.
• Tonight I’m going to poetry reading at a place that sells mead.  Mead!
• It’s freezing in Crunchyville.
• I have been hitting the gym at least three days/week for the past month.  I’m beginning to run more.  This bodes well.
• My BFF is sad, and I want to help, but she won’t let me.  (Enter: cheesy 80’s song about “letting me in.”  Name?)
• Mr. P is waiting to hear back from a few editors himself.  I get sweaty palms just thinking about it.  He, though, he’s cool.