On Saturday night, Jerry, Norah, and I (Caleb stayed at home with my SIL who is here visiting) attended my department's holiday party. It was at my dean's home, and in his backyard, there was an old jungle gym/swing set that they'd had there when their kids were younger (their kids are in college now if that gives an indication of the age of this thing). Anyway, it had some rings, so I thought it'd be fun to show off and do some flips for Norah.
She thought I was the bomb-diggity for that, and she begged, "Again!" I obliged with several more flips. My arms were achin'. But, she HAD to tell Jerry about my accomplishment, and Jerry didn't believe that I could do this, so he had to see: One more flip. Then, Jerry assisted Norah in her "flips," so one last time, she had to see me repeat it. Good lord, my achin' arms!
Sunday, the day after, wasn't terrible. But yesterday? My arms were like flaccid lumps of arm meat. I had to swallow a fistful of Advil just to get through the day. Today they are a bit better, but still sore.
Does this prompt me to think that I need to do more strength training? Nah. I just clearly need to avoid my dean's backyard from here on to eternity.
Stacks of Grading
No marathon analogy here: This week is a sprint.
This is finals week, and I have approximately 125 essays to read by Monday. Actually, about 100 because I just finished one class's. My grades for the term are due on Tuesday, and even though I know I CAN do it, I'm at a point right now where I just don't wanna.
Plus, some of these essays are T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E. Notice I spelled that right? Well, in one essay I read this afternoon, the student didn't even manage to spell her own name right! This is what I'm dealing with.
Add to that the sudden finals-induced-drama that students are always stricken with (Grandmas start to die with alarming frequency), and I just want to fast-forward to a week from today when my semester will be done and I can focus on the less stressful activity of doing my ENTIRE Christmas shopping in one week.