Suddenly soup sounds good.

"So what are you giving up ?" my son asks me this morning, casually, over an English muffin.
"Giving up?" 
"Yeah, like for Lent and stuff."  He picks the too-brown edge off the side and throws it to the dog.  The piece bounces off the top of the dog's head and lands under the table.
"We're not Catholic," I say.  "Not even a little bit."
"Well, everyone at school is talking about it, so I'm going to give something up too."
"Okay," I say.  "What are you going to give up?"
"Spoons," he says.
"Spoons?"  I look to see whether he is kidding, but his face is earnest. Virtuous.
"I really like spoons."

Well, okay. I'm thinking it might be an out-of-the-box kind of choice, but that's the kind of people we are. 

This is just a quick check-in, because a couple of people were wondering if I was dead.  The answer is no, not dead, but longing for a merciful release from the purgatory of staff in-services.  Today I made the presenter's face go all red and sweaty from my insightful questions,and then he just stopped calling on me altogether for some reason, so I had to go back to drawing clear boxes on my handout.

I'll be back tomorrow, after I dig my way out from under a million terrible essays that must be graded by tomorrow.  Before I go back to reading and weeping, here are a couple of student essay highlights for you to ponder.  Perhaps make them part of your morning meditations.

From a freshman student essay today:  

The Irish gave us potatoes.  If it wasn't for the Irish we wouldn't have no carbs.  Some people think the Irish are always drunk, but I say be greatful for the potatoes. 

  From a senior essay:

         Thick, black, smoke poured into his every orifice, like a feast of buttermilk, or cheddar cheese.

Mmm, cheese.