non-notandum

Happy Tuesday! (and happy New Year!)

This morning welcomed my newest second cousin into the world, Sarah Elizabeth. (That recently-immigrated side of the familiy is small enough that second cousins and their first-cousin-once-removed parents are all notable parts of the extended family. I say this mostly for the benefit of those of you who can't even count how many first cousins they have, never mind seconds.)

Well, last night I had a crazy dream. Since some patrons of this site might find it vaugely amusing, I'll tell you the general story. I was going on a cross-country road trip with my sister, my brother, and my cousin, in my cousin's car (he's only 14 now, so I guess this was in the future...). The only music we had to listen to were three horrid CD's the boys had, so this was going to be one long trip. Along the way, (I think somewhere in Kansas or something) we saw off to the left a horse and trailer, and in the trailer was a ragged looking young man sitting in the straw, holding a sign that read "I wish I were at TAC". Now, I thought this was interesting since my school is called TAC, and I was thinking the very same thing, and so I wanted to find out if it was anyone I knew. My siblings, on the other hand, were quite tired of hearing about the wonders of the school and more or less had forbidden me to mention it.
By and by the wagon's trajectory closed in on our own. Who should the man be but our own Tasik! Incredulously I called out his name (the "easy" version) and, to be brief, he told me about how he dropped out of school one semester before graduation and had been working on a farm doing heavy labor since then.
Soon after this, we all found ourselves in a forest and some band of theatrically dramatic night riders were slaying everyone in sight (By this time, our party had somehow grown to include all the new freshmen whom I haven't yet met, and some other random people known only in the dream.) Some strong and enterprising character named Napolean collected all the people he could, saving them from the bloodthirsty riders and bringing them to a "refuge" on a barn where, in fact, he intended to enslave them. In the process he somehow also captured an angel, whom he had stationed in the hay loft to direct a magnificent choir of all the captives who could sing. The angel was only too happy to oblige Napolean with a sort of condescending sweetness, even after the man started making silly and unfulfillable demands about the music and the decorations for the concert that was already in progress.

And then my alarm clock went off. My imagination sure keeps me entertained at night.

Three exams. Three classes. Two weeks and one day left of the semester. Thirty-eight days until I set foot on the same ground Bl. Serra trod.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Have a blessed Advent.