You will all be glad to hear that I finally got my adjuncting application in the mail, so you will not have to listen to me gripe about the form any longer. I don�t know whether I want this job or not. It would be relatively easy to manage as teaching jobs go � it�s close to my house, I�ve taught both courses before. However, my research into the adjunct pay history of this particular institution is not promising: I could potentially make less for teaching two courses than I did this past term for teaching one, and for a term that is 50% longer. Still, I�m trying to maintain my game mentality in case someone calls me back sometime. The more I talk to colleagues at my very research-oriented institution, the more I hear good things about having community college experience on your c.v. Apparently many schools worry about my institution�s lack of focus on teaching skills in its grad students.

As per our usual schedule, I did laps at the local pool as soon as it opened at 10 and my husband and AJ came up to play at 11, shortly before the arrival en masse of about 20 8-year-old girls for a birthday party. They did nothing but giggle and shriek in a most hilarious fashion. An example

Girl #1: (upon seeing the birthday girl) EEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Birthday Girl: AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!
Girl #1: Happy Birthday!
Birthday Girl: Thanks. Let�s go in the pool.
Girl #2: BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!!!
Birthday Girl: AAAAAAA!!!!! Come on! We�re going in the pool.
Girl #1: EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE!
Birthday Girl: What�s the matter?
Girl #1: What�s that in the pool?! EEEEE! It�s so gross! EEEEE! What is it? EEEEE!
Birthday Girl: (bending down to peer into the corner of the pool). It�s a leaf. You�re so weird.
Girl #2: (Jumps in pool) EEEEEEEEE!

AJ very sensibly sat and stared at them with his hands over his ears until he realized that the screaming was not going to stop. Then we went home.

After AJ�s nap, we headed to his cousins� house for a party for my niece C. who has just graduated from 8th grade. Aside from the rampant proliferation of celebrating every graduation no matter how small (Back when I was a young whippersnapper, we only ever observed high school and college graduation. Everything else was unseemly.), in the world of Catholic education, 8th grade usually means you�re actually leaving the school system you�ve been in since kindergarten, so a party was warranted. Much to the excitement of C. and her friends, there was another 8th grade party of boys at the house kitty-corner from theirs, so the collective 8th grade class spent much of the afternoon running back and forth between the two parties, generally armed with water balloons and super soakers. This meant more screaming.

AJ mostly watched in awe, but he was all over the water balloons, reveling in the small explosions on the driveway. Whenever the 8th graders ran down the street to the other party, he raided the bucket of balloons. He was very sad when the ammunition ran out, although it did mean that the screaming stopped. AJ came home very sleepy and sweaty and jittery from all the screaming and the boatload of icing he ate from the graduation cake. A successful (and noisy) day all around.

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