My cover letter is polished and printed. My c.v. is sparkling (and nearly a full page longer than last year at this time, thanks to one more job and four more conference papers). My official transcripts are in my dossier and awaiting request. My references have been alerted and informed and are ready and waiting. Now I just have to get the *)&^^$% application form filled out. This is a humongous pain in the ass for several reasons. First of all, the form itself is clearly designed for staff positions, with a couple of questions for faculty as an afterthought. Second, every single piece of information on the form appears in either my cover letter, my c.v. or both. I hate redundancy. Third, the form looks like crap because it�s a lo-res pdf file. Fourth, because it�s a pdf file, I can�t type onto the form. I have to try to make my word document line up with the form, which is one of the most aggravating tasks I can think of. Did I mention that this form is completely redundant? And yet it�s going to take hours of work? Do I really want to apply for this job? [Must repeat mantra: Fifteen minute commute. Fifteen minute commute. Fifteen minute commute...]

Aside from griping and typing, I spent an hour on the phone with my friend K. (she of the couple who adopted the baby I mentioned a couple of days ago) and heard all about their trip to China and all about their new little girl. It�s wonderful. And much more fun than bureaucratic forms, although I know they had to deal with plenty of bureaucratic forms themselves. K. told me about the whole emotional saga. Of how L.S. arrived wearing a pink outfit they�d sent in advance to her orphanage. About how she was clutching a picture of them that she wouldn�t put down, even in sleep. About how suddenly, on their second day together, L.S. stopped what she was doing, stared deep into K.�s eyes and smiled and that K. knew at that instant that she was head-over-heels in love forever. As if L.S. hasn�t had enough celebrating this week, she turns one tomorrow. Towards the end of our conversation she said something about just looking at L.S. for the first time, about how her skin looked, her fingers, her hair, her eyes. �She was so beautiful. She�s perfect.� I think all mothers say that about their new babies. I remember saying it about AJ. And yet it�s not as if we are apt to be especially critical. If my baby weren�t perfect, would I notice? If K�s baby weren�t perfect, would she send her back to the orphanage? No, of course not. What we mean is, �How lucky we are. And isn�t life amazing?� And we are and it is.

I�ve also had notes from a couple of you regarding my pseudo-review of Marilynne Robinson�s Gilead yesterday, both of which got me thinking. I�m always looking for new books to read and I know a lot of you who read this page like to read as much as I do. Suppose we put all of that literacy to some collective use. I�d like to propose a meme where each of us posts a review of a book you�d like to recommend for our summer reading lists on your own blog. Send me the link (either in notes, guestbook) and I�ll post a summary list (or summery list, as the case may be). Consider yourself commissioned.

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