So it's spring and I have all manner of stirrings in me, of forgotten like seasons a year or two ago--this is only my third New York spring, though I feel as there have been more than that, as this will be my fourth summer here in the city and after college--there's something about the heat and the pollen and promise--I can understand why my kids' hormones get all up in this season--the afternoon was perfect and bright and even the winos decided to emerge again and smoke on street-corners, fanning out their issues of USWeekly for all takers. It's a heated unhappiness here, in the grocery supermarkets where I am the only one waiting in line who isn't shouldering what will soon be pernil. So I don't know--all I know is that I've skipped two kendo classes and will miss two this weekend when I am off to South Carolina, and I only have a half-assed idea what I will do with students tomorrow and this week, but it's somehow all OK, somehow.