One more day of lectures. One day of review sessions/class presentations. Finals. Can you hear the angels singing? The semester is almost over.

Perhaps my unbreakable good mood explains why I liked Christopher Buckley's article in the Times about his parents. I am not a fan of his writing. He tries too hard to be cute and I frown on forced cute. I wanted to red pencil to a couple of annoying lines in the essay, but I kept reading any way, because the subject of the essay was so compelling. The slide show is also good.

Buckley does paint a wonderful image of his glamorous parents. Intellectual, fun, daring. They traveled the world and had fab dinner parties. They were completely devoted to each other. Sure, they were crappy parents, but it is terribly hard to be both a good parent and an intellectual, glamorous partier.

Steve and I have made some trade-offs. Instead, of the Buckley life-style, we read the New Republic in the stands at soccer games and have an extra glass of wine at the local burger joint. I write after the kids go to sleep, and Steve gets another shipment of books from Amazon. I like to think we made the right choice.