I received a new job announcement today that among its list of criteria includes the statement that "experience with communication intensive teaching preferred."� I confess that I have no idea what this means. I thought all teaching was, by definition, communication intensive. I am mystified.

Our unexpected spring weather has given all the bulbs in the yard a jumpstart. The daffodils are making excellent progress. The sedums have begun to sprout as well. The biggest surprise, though is that the tulip bulbs - the residue of an indoor tulip plant I received as a gift last Easter – that I installed in the porch planter last year are sprouting. I am hoping that their location by the front door will deter the deer, who devour the tulips in the rest of the yard before we get to see their flowers. The alternative, of course, is that we'll have deer lounging on the front porch. No matter which happens, it's sure to be exciting.

AJ has been surly and argumentative today, the result, no doubt, from being out too late last night. We didn't get home from my niece's birthday party until nine. We did, however, get to meet said niece's boyfriend, who was sweet and shy in the way that only adolescents can be. All three nieces are looking so old now. C., the middle one, now a freshman in high school, is exhibiting all signs of classic teenager. She was plugged into her iPod when we arrived. She checked her cellphone for messages every five minutes all night . And at one point, she was talking on the household cordless phone, typing a message in her cell phone and answering the door to let in a friend at the same time. Now that's communication intensive.

I myself am craving a little less communication today. That is why I am lurking in the basement with the door closed. An hour of quiet all to myself.

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