Excuses, excuses

I’d like to claim that blogging’s been sidetracked by tweaking the blog’s appearance, but I can’t take credit for its newish veneer (with the exception of actually taking the photo at the top). Those props go out to the boy that lives down the hall (his blog is much swankier, I aspire to a swanky one myself someday), who’s about to depart for a teaching gig in Spain and leave me to fend for myself against a house full of white pets for the next four months. Other things have been keeping me busy lately, namely revising, revising, revising. I've got a workable draft now, excepting a methods section that I still haven’t figured out how to write. Part of me wants to adopt an air of snooty defiance (“I don’t have to explain my methods to you!”) but then I’d never pass. Pragmatism. My birthday is this weekend, which is both exciting and sad. Not sad age-wise, since I am eternally young and vivacious, but because my birthday’s always meant that summer is almost over. Even though I'm not teaching this semester it’s still a return to school, or at least the feeling that the school year has started and I can’t get away with nearly as much slacking. At least in the interim I will have presents to console me, and a ceremonial birthday pie – strawberry rhubarb (my favourite). Mmm… pie…