As I've said before, nouns that decide they're verbs make my skin crawl. Cheeky nouns.

I can't resist recording this little bit of text that arrived via email, despite the fact it's irrelevant in my life, wasn't directed at me, and was in fact accidentally sent to a mailing list instead of its lone intended recipient:

As a partner in a risk management corporation, I am challenged each day to find innovative solutions to protect health care organization and to provide the most optimal client care. I am always having to gestalt very complex information to create the most effortless systems.

I find it difficult to even conceive of expressing myself this way. It's so exquisitely painful to read, and yet I'm sure the author of this text didn't think twice about it. Does the English language now allow parts of speech to be used entirely interchangeably? Did I miss a memo? Too many more examples like this one, and I'll have to go Freud myself.

Before I disappear for another inevitable round of web silence, one final tidbit worthy of mention. Now that Zebula is two, she's really too big to treat like a cuddly little infant. She's a kid, and there's no getting around it (which is not to say that she's any less cuddly). Of course, natural-born-moms like Nath need their fix on a regular basis, so we're going to do it all again. The fourth human member of the Thingo clan is expected to arrive some time near the end of May 2005.

Unlike last time, Thingo has decided to bring you the news as it breaks, rather than after the conventional three month wait. I guess we're not big on keeping secrets around here. However, it's likely that we won't reveal the baby's sex to avoid a pre-emptive onslaught of pink or blue gifts. Since we're not big on keeping secrets, the best way to prevent everyone from finding out the sex might be for us to not find out ourselves.

Oh, and the codename for the Thingo-in-development is Vorlon. Thanks to Ruth (my favourite new mother) for the suggestion.

After a leisurely summer, the fall brings a new and exceedingly heavy workload. Two hundred students spread over two sections of a course, advising grads and undergrads, and a bunch of committees. Somewhere in there I suppose I ought to do some research too. For those of you concerned that Thingo was fading once again into oblivion, this workload explains my lack of time for posting. Probably this unfortunate trend will continue into December.

Friday is the quietest day of the work week. I currently have nothing scheduled on Fridays, and I hope to keep it that way. I'm hoping that when I need to get real work done, I can hide somewhere free from all interruptions: off campus and out of the house.

So far, however, Fridays have failed to live up to expectations. Last Friday morning was a wash. I stayed home so that a representative from Home Depot could come by to measure the house for new windows (Sears stopped by on Wednesday and a local company is visiting next week). And this morning I'm totally useless, as I've come down with a nasty cold. I blame my mom, who was sick when she visited last week for Zebula's birthday. But with a a little kid in school, we should of course expect this sort of thing constantly.

[Upon resuming this entry later in the day, I can confirm that the entire day was a write-off due to this cold. My writing was interrupted by a trip downtown for decent Pho (Vietnamese soup), which helped ease the symptoms. Then a nap that was much needed but left me feeling helplessly dazed until recently.]

Now, I have a pretty fixed routine when I'm feeling lousy. Lots of tea, lots of blankets. But most importantly, when it's late and I'm having trouble sleeping, I install myself on the futon downstairs and watch Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. On VHS, no less. It's my constant friend during sickness, a vapo-rub for the eyes and ears. I don't get sick often these days, but over the years I have watched this movie many, many, many times. That is one discovered country, let me tell you. I don't really have to pay much attention any more. I love when Sulu gets up from his chair and says "My.... GOD. Shields! Shields!" Then I typically zonk out by the time the crew of the Enterprise meets in secret with the Federation brass.

I don't know why this sort of thing helps me sleep. It must be something I inherited from my father, who rarely falls asleep without the TV on. I usually prefer peace and quiet, but movies do the trick when I need to turn my attention away from my own misery.

I can only hope that the cold passes over the weekend so that I can get back to attacking my mountain of work by next week. It's gruelling to deliver a lecture with a sore throat, especially so with a chalk-based presentation that leaves one feeling dry and dusty.

In case you haven't been keeping track, Zebula is now two years old. Two. Years. Old. She started going to a couple of hours of preschool a week. She makes pictures and brings them home and we put them up on the fridge. That freaks me out beyond all reason.

I don't think I need to write down a list of all the two-year-old things she does now. As far as I know, it's the usual stuff. Of course, she still does them in the cutest and funniest way possible.

Anyway, this is the year. This is the year I mold her into the juggling, chess-playing, virtuoso pianist I know she wants to be. Or, you know, I could be projecting a bit.