Every day is the same

This morning -- for the second time in less than a week -- I tried to go to a seminar way to early. Last Wednesday afternoon I hoped out my chair to go to a distinguished lecture hosted by the department. This morning I thought I was late and rushed out of my office to go to another invited seminar. I noticed my colleague in the next office hadn't left yet, so I thought I'd make him tag along.

As soon as I walked in his office it hit me. "Today is Tuesday, isn't it?". "Uhm, yes."

The exciting life of a grad student. My daily routine changes so little that I have no idea which day of the week (or week) it is that I'm stumbling through.

Duh, Daddy

There are times when I realize that you simply cannot explain to a two-year old what you're trying to say.

"No, daddy. It's not a DIAPER rash. It's a PANTIES rash!" Princess Ana hadn't had a diaper on all day. What the heck was I thinking?

"Dah-deeee... food doesn't go in my tummy. It goes in my mouth!" What crazy thing will I tell her next, that the food she eats turns into poop?

May God grant Princess Ana the patience to deal with my obvious mental limitations, and may God grant me the strength I need to not ram my head against the wall after she goes to bed.

Wednesday Dinner Disasters

The midweek meal at Chez Smith has turned into a weekly fiasco. By Wednesday I've recovered from my weekend cooking -- the goal of which is to provide me with enough leftovers for lunch the entire week -- and want to get back in the kitchen for the evening. My enthusiasm seems to have gotten the best of me the past three weeks. I've selected recipes that are new to me, and wound up with the same chaotic result each week.

5:30 -- start putting dinner together a little early since the recipe is new.

5:45 -- Princess Ana invades with a new distraction of her own and I lose my head start

6:45 -- After 45 minutes of plugging through the new recipe the first call from the living room comes, "Will dinner be ready on time?"

7:00 -- Dinner is not ready on time, and the girls come to the kitchen to investigate only to be chased away by an irritated chef. "Dinner doesn't get ready faster when you're standing in the way!"

7:15ish -- The girls give up and warm-up some of my lunch leftovers and eat.

7:45 -- dinner is ready, and pretty darn good, but I'm the only one that gets to enjoy it. The girls pick a little to pass judgment and decide if I'll be allowed to attempt the dish again.


Next week I'll pick something easier... like Chinese take-out. Another night like tonight and they'll be looking for a new chef at Chez Smith.