If I had an actual job, I'd remain on medical leave for at least two more weeks. I'm mostly back to my old energy level, but still have lingering effects from last month's repairs. I punted a quiz bowl trip to our national tournament in California, as well as an alternative trip to visit Rebecca near Toledo; while my traveling at this stage wouldn't have given my doctor a bad case of the vapors, I'd have had a low tolerance for travel snafus, and an even lower tolerance for quiz-tournament glitches. So, it makes sense that I'm spending occasional short but productive stretches in the lab, and the rest of it at home, resting up and editing the second research paper.

It's also irksome that my first-choice postdoc has not been funded, which is having some interesting consequences. My prospective sponsor is eager to apply for a different source of funding. So am I. The whole process may put me on hold for even longer than I'd planned, but I can't imagine not going for it. The project has my name written all over it. If I were one of Monty Python's infamous bishops, the proposal would be tattooed on the back of my neck. :-) In the meantime, I have to figure out what to do about other possibilities, and to fill my time over the next few months with something that's productive enough to keep me sane.

The last of the crocuses are in blossom in southwest Michigan. So are the earliest daffodils, violets, and periwinkle. The rhubarb and bleeding heart are poking new shoots through the earth in our garden. Some of last year's Swiss chard is putting out new leaves. If we go to bed with the window open, we can't sleep through the early morning hours for the bird racket.

Everything is popping out or speaking up that makes my home beautiful. And I'm so impatient for new things to do that I can't wait to leave it.