Decompressing

Just had 9 15-minute meetings with students, so my mind is fried. I could spend time reading a parenting book (take home messages so far: play with your children, and don't yell at them), but as usual, I haven't written in a while.

Thanksgiving went well. My parents and brother came up to visit, which was nice, especially since it was the first time Vincent got to see his second nephew. The turkey, which was heavier than Vanya, came out really well (Rubashkin's Aaron's Best Kosher turkey; recently won a Cook's Illustrated tasting). The sides were mixed. The cranberry sauce was reliably delicious, but the soup was okay (still trying to replicate a soup I had in a restaurant), the sausage-pecan-apricot stuffing was yummy but dry, and the Brussels sprouts in tarragon-mustard butter would be better with a beef dish. The persimmon pie was delish, but I couldn't really taste the persimmon. Vincent pointed out that persimmons are rather mild, so what's the surprise?

On Saturday, I picked up the soundtrack of "The Sound of Music". Igor and I are bouncing around ideas on how best to handle Nikita's obvious love of music. He "conducts" the music, and the other day, recognized a make-over of "The Sound of Music" piped in at a store. He didn't know the name of the piece; just called it, "Maria's song". The CD has replaced "Peter and the Wolf" on Nikita's CD player. When's he wasn't listening to the CD, he was reciting the story.

Meanwhile, it's impossible to read to Vanya because he always trying to eat the book. it doesn't help that he now has two teeth. I'm a little worried that I don't read to him as much as I did to Nikita. The only reading I consistently get done is an Italian folk tale when he nurses at night.

Meanwhile, Igor's reading material is how to make money. His latest fascination is scalping on the stock market. I told him he could do it as long as it pays the medical bills that result from the stress of the activity.

And me? Other than the parenting book (and countless students' papers), I started The Blue Flower by Penelope Fitzgerald. A short novel (less than 300 pages), but then again, I couldn't get through a collection of Chekhov short stories. The only material I read consistently is The Week.