The temperature doesn't understand that summer is nearly here, or that Owen must spend his first two waking hours swimming in an outdoor pool. Because temperatures have been so low, we haven't run the A/C in the house since last Thursday, and I've run the A/C in the car only one time in the same period, and then only because the car had been parked in direct sunlight on black asphalt for several hours. But Monday morning, the temperature was extraordinarily cool.

At 6:30 yesterday morning when O. left the house for swim team practice, the thermometer on our fence confirmed Yahoo!'s report of 57 F. After practice two hours later, the mercury hadn't budged.

When asked how practice had gone, Owen replied that the cold water had set his puberty back a few months.

He's watching way too many sitcoms.

I sent two summer session classes aloft Monday. I went in for the noon class that started two weeks ago; afterward, last minute changes to the lessons and the urge to complete additional copying for the new classes occupied me in the afternoon, keeping me at school until the classes began at 4:30.

The first class is a small one (five students). It will meet in a regular classroom (i.e., one without computers), but I'll request permission to move it into a computer lab that is open at that hour. Or I might just go Nike on 'em and follow the suggestion of the adage that says it's sometimes easier to apologize than to get permission.

The class that follows the first is set in the same classroom. There are twenty-five students in a classroom set for eighteen, while across the hall a class of eleven occupies a room set for thirty-two.

Am I whining about work again? I really enjoy the classes, and the joys of the classroom far outnumber the minor inconveniences that arise from the inattention of our trusty and highly-trained adminstrators. Okay, I'll stop whining, but I'll also send an E-mail to the powers that be to request a room change. Let me invoke the spirit of Pollyanna and get back on track.

Two folks wrote to admire what they mistook for my front yard pictured in the photo in the previous entry. Maybe I missed their irony, or maybe the association with the discussion of mowing truly misled them. I will clarify the matter by saying that we live in town, not on the prime farmland pictured in the photo, land that might someday (soon) become a parking lot for a big box superstore of some sort.

Looking back at this entry, I recognize that it doesn't really advance human wisdom, but it's done. It ain't Montaigne, but Montaigne didn't have to share computer time with so many kids, so adieu!

I spotted a lone wild turkey at 11 AM Monday in a field along Williston Point Road.

Tuesday morning was cool again, so we kept Owen home from swim practice.