As I plow through my summer reading with the aid of a trusty French-English dictionary, it hits me that, oh my God, I'm about to start graduate school! How could I possibly be old enough for such a thing? I think this might be in order. But first, time to get a hold of French spellcheck (how exactly did I manage to major in French without that?), keyboard stickers to remind me where to find the accents (hand-writing them in at the last minute isn't the way to go), and time to follow through on my threat to speak to all I know who speak French only in that language. Also, all future trips to Ceci Cela, not to mention French Canada, now count as "educational."