March 1 is the cruelest deadline. February is so short that March creeps up out of nowhere. I had two applications due March 1—one for a grant from Wellesley and one for an outside fellowship—and I submitted them both by Wednesday morning. Happy March 1 deadlines to all who celebrate.
Monday evening, I got in one last ski on pretty good snow! I felt so good on my first two laps, and then I fell three times. I broke my binding right off the ski on my last fall. (This is my second time breaking something on skis. My friend who grew up skiing said she’s seen that happen three times in her life, and two of them were me. She then tried to convince me that it wasn’t my fault.) One of the e-board members took her skis off so I could finish the little race. The nordic ski folks are too kind.
I spent an inordinate number of hours in the gym yesterday, between practice, rehab for my lower back injury, and bopping around open swim with friends. We played tag and I laughed too hard to swim fast. To think that a year ago, I was swimming with sea turtles and starfish in a place where it certainly wasn’t snowing… I’m not nostalgic or anything.
This morning, I went to bagel brunch to celebrate Purim. My friends and I stuffed goodie bags with hamantaschen and dropped them off all over campus. Three years ago, this was the last weekend before we found out we were being sent home for covid. I remember that weekend so well. I had work to do, but I put it off and did so many fun things instead. With how things turned out, I’m so glad I made that choice.
And just as I recovered from my two bagels, I had my third weekly loaf time with Alison. We made chocolate chip peanut butter bread and ate the whole loaf. It was not the prettiest baked good, but it was yum.
Snow!
Peanut butter bread
I stopped to soak up some sun before class in the Academic Quad