I'm starting to despair: those days may be forever gone, dessicated husks of their former liveliness hanging in the web of the spider of time.
Yes, that was intentionally a groaner of a metaphor, conjured to illustrate the fact that I can't seem to post well anymore. Today's reasons: a ceaseless morning meeting in which I developed a severe allergic reaction to people reading to me from their PowerPoint presentations and in my head ran screaming from the room (my body remained patiently present, pretending to take notes); a lunch of wilty leaves to which a vaguely pinkish dressing clung, the perfect color to soak my copy of a memo on new and improved rules for sabbaticals and promotions; seven emails requesting letters of recommendation within a single hour; an unabating medley of complaints, whines, affirmations, deprecations, and unidentifiable noises that might have been any of those things if I could have mustered the enthusiasm to check outside my office door. I picked the kids up from the various daycare and afterschool programs where we keep them warehoused during the week, and then took them to temple for a special children's service ("Tot Shabbat"). Kid #1 patiently endured the throng of toddlers attracted to his Older Child Majesty, while Kid #2 screamed that she wanted to color on the torah and attempted to drown out any song in Hebrew with "Old MacDonald Had a Farm." We ate pizza at the temple with the other families and then went out for dessert afterwards here. Kid #2 stopped screaming long enough to gorge on strawberry ice cream [she will eat only pink things right now; I should have saved my lunch for her], then screamed for more when it was gone. Oddly, this vocalizing failed to make more dessert appear, but it did frighten a large number of passersby.
So, my brain is as vapid as a template-driven PowerPoint presentation. And you're expecting a substantial medieval post? Maybe in three years, when I'm not chair any more.