I feel like my life is suddenly plagued by an embarrassment of riches. I feel like I'm the finalist on Let's Make A Deal, and I've come down to the stage and Monty Hall is telling me what's behind Door Number One, Door Number Two, and Door Number Three . . . and all doors lead to China next summer, and rather than choosing blindly, I can have any (or all?) of them. (Well, I don't know about Door Number Three yet, but One and Two are a go.) And it's not exactly like Let's Make A Deal, because I don't just pack up the loot and go home - any of these options will entail a lot of work, especially if I try to combine a couple of them (which is my current inclination).

And then, just as I was anticipating a rather laid-back semester, with an awesome schedule and a course release for my role as Bizcomm coordinator, I discovered that I got another class, in a different department. It's an ESL class, so I'm happy to have it - but it's an 8-week class, 6 hours a week, and it's right before Chinese class. I'd thought I'd have the whole day on Chinese class days so that I could study, and maybe keep up this semester. So I don't know what will happen there; perhaps I'll give up one of my other classes, or perhaps I'll just teach the class as an overload (which would be great, because no matter how rich I feel in opportunities, I don't feel monetarily rich). (But there are other people in my department who need money more than I do . . . so I may have to give one up.) In any case, for 8 weeks I've lost my study time.

In the fall, when I was finagling all of this, I thought of it as casting my bread upon the waters. My first thought when the bread began coming back was that I should realize that for some reason, I have a pretty good rate of return when I cast my bread like that, so maybe I don't have to cast quite so much. And then it occurred to me that maybe the whole casting-bread-upon-waters metaphor wasn't about throwing out a lot of bread because only some of it comes back - maybe it's about being patient and waiting. Which I've never been good at . . .

Anyhow. We have a downright surfeit of snow at the moment, too. It's fantastic; we got about 8 inches over the past day (paltry to some of you, I know, but definitely enough to ski on). Friday I went out to Lake Lansing (and got the Miata stuck in the snow; as I waited for Emil to arrive to help me push, the sun set and a glorious full moon rose). Today I drove all the way out there (in the Subaru) as the snow was falling thick and fast, only to discover that I had left my ski boots at home . . . Grr. No matter; I was still tired from yesterday, and I ended up shoveling two driveways and walking two dogs today, so I did get to play in it a bit. As I was shoveling, I was thinking that I really, truly love shoveling snow. Not all the time, of course, and I'm sure I'll get sick of it before this winter is over, but still. Today it was like shoveling powdered sugar, and it was all I could do to keep from rolling in it and burying myself in it and scooping it up and eating it . . . I'm hoping we have a blizzard this year. I think it could really happen, and I'm waiting with bated breath. (Yes; that's how weird I am. If I didn't know that my brother, who's reading, feels exactly the same way, I would feel really weird.)

OK, time for me to get some sleep - I have an extra syllabus to write this weekend . . .