Proverbs 6:1 - 5
Dangerous Promises

My son, if you become surety for your friend,
If you have shaken hands in pledge for a stranger,
You are snared by the words of your mouth;
You are taken by the words of your mouth.
So do this, my son, and deliver yourself;
For you have come into the hand of your friend:
Go and humble yourself;
Plead with your friend.
Give no sleep to your eyes,
Nor slumber to your eyelids.
Deliver yourself like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter,
And like a bird from the hand of the fowler.[a]

I've gotten going on making good on a few promises myself this week. It's midterm week at Nunez, and I'm enjoying my teaching, though the old frustrations are creeping in. Why do I have to teach all these unrelated concepts in algebra classes? They are like a jumble of jig saw pieces with no rhyme nor reason. But the catalog prescribes...

A semester of math can be very much like a story. It's got the preamble, introductory remarks, and then building the story. But we teach it like fifteen unrelated plot pieces. I've searched out several different narrative approaches to the course over the years, but every time the text changes and the master syllabus changes, I have to rethink the thing, and it seems to take a full semester to pull it together. I'm not thinking I want to do this again next semester. Which is probably a good thing, because Nunez's growth is likely to die on the vine after the financial melt down.

H-- was talking at bridge today. She's well into her nineties, and was trying to play through the fog of pain medications. She'd taken a fall.. tossed her cane into the air on the way up, and it came down on her ribs, paining her a great deal. Anyway it was nice to play bridge and leave the midterms behind, leave the wedding behind.

The bride is due in town Saturday, and her father Saturday night. Tomorrow I need to pick up my dress. I'm gaining on the foo foo'ing of the mother of the bride. Got a hair cut today. So a random photo before I head to bed...



Ain't there no mo'. The gardens I used to visit every spring. Zemmurray Gardens in Folsom, La.