My aunt just left for the airport after what turned out to be a really delightful weekend (not that I had any serious doubts, but being with--and being responsible FOR--someone else's entertainment 24/7 sometimes really wears me down; it's hard for me to be "on" all the time, especially when I'm continually being asked questions about, I don't know, the origins of priestly celibacy). Much wine was drunk. Much food was eaten. Many stories were told and jackets cut.*

Museums, theatres, cheap knock-off boutiques--all, all got visited. The weather was gorgeous. And Aunt insisted on paying for half of a vintage cocktail dress I'd been eyeing for weeks (1950s, knee-length, chiffon and lace in a stunning color somewhere between teal and turquoise and sea-green).

Along the way I learned some disturbing things about my extended family, not all of which I'm comfortable knowing and many of which I'm not sure how to reconcile with everything else I know or believe about particular individuals . . . but that's family. I'm reminded of something I read in a recent Chronicle article about department culture: if someone tells you that your new department is "just like a family," you'd better bet that it's also a dysfunctional one.

So now back to work. It's not even 4 p.m. yet, so in theory I can make up for time lost over the weekend. Yeah! I could write five pages! Or maybe even six! Or hell--why don't I just finish off this entire chapter, while I'm at it?


*If anyone can explain to me the origin of that phrase, "cutting [someone's] jacket," meaning, gossipping about or cutting someone down to size, I'd appreciate it. My reference books & Google are turning up nothin'.