Recently, Bob talked about the important Delegate responsibility of serving as wallpaper. Today, I’m undertaking another of the less-well-known parts of the job.

I’m intentionally risking making a fool of myself in public.

We get asked to do all sorts of things in the name of civic involvement. We throw out pitches on Opening Day. (My entire school career was pre-Title IX. What can I say? I throw like a girl.) We act as auctioneers for charitable events. We wear silly hats. (Not me–“Don’t Put On the Hat” is still my motto.)

But tonight is my annual Lenten excursion into total public humility. I’m going to be conducting a high school band.

It’s a concert called “March Madness,” and madness it is. A variety of local luminaries sign up to direct the West Potomac High School band in a concert featuring marches. Mostly, it goes well. But there was one ghastly time when the guest conductor brought down the baton and . . . nothing happened.

Most of the concert attendees are there because their kids play in the band. A few, I figure, are there to see if any similar catastrophe will occur–sorta like the folks who go to a hockey game hoping a fight will break out.

But the concert raises lots of money for music scholarships. Which is why I’ll be bringing down the baton–and hopefully conducting a spirited march.

If you’re interested in helping with the scholarship part, March Madness is at West Potomac High School, 7:30.

Not, God knows, my brackets. (About which more in a minute.)

Yesterday, South Dakota State University’s women’s team won its first-ever NCAA game. Jennifer Warkenthien had a double-double, with 15 points and 10 rebounds.

She’s the player I wrote about earlier — the one who lost her mother at an early age, lost her father this year, and has basically been adopted by the entire state. Apparently she also has a terrific inside game.

On the painful subject of my brackets, well, let’s just say I basically went 0-for-Minneapolis (site of many regional games). One competition in which I am entered gamely told me this morning that I was in the “top 100 percent.” Ouch.

There’s a new blog in Virginia (and no, I’m not going to link to it) dedicated to defeating one of the candidates for statewide office. It seems to confirm some of the very worst ideas people have about blogs.

Whenever I talk with other elected officials about blogging, their reaction is always the same. “How can you take the risk? Don’t you get a lot of vituperation and profanity on your blog?”

And the answer is always the same. No. Readers of this blog (and frankly of most Virginia political blogs) are strong-minded and able to express their ideas clearly. I can’t count the number of comments that have begun, “You’re wrong about X.”

Sometimes, I’ve changed my mind after reading the comments. Sometimes, the commenter and I have engaged in a dialogue. Sometimes (e.g., Jim Hoeft) the commenter and I have become quite friendly, all the while agreeing to disagree.

But I have never felt that the disagreements we’ve engaged in were either nasty or personal. In two years, we have posted virtually every comment that has appeared here. (We don’t much go for anonymity, but other than that we’re pretty wide open.)

So my reaction to this new blog is sadness as much as anything else. The comments are beyond the bounds.

Blogs are a great way to engage in debate and discussion. Blogs like this will actually make other elected officials more reluctant to engage with bloggers. And that would be too bad.

So I’m not the only one who sees that the NCAA is a lot like politics. That’s the theme of a hilarious story on Politico today. Sample observation: “Incumbency matters. Long-shot candidates remain long-shot candidates both on the court and on the way to Capitol Hill.”

UPDATE: It’s no secret that I am a big fan of the President. But how nice he has picked the Heels to go all the way. Me, too.

I estimate that American productivity falls significantly this month. Everyone I know is filling out brackets.

So now it’s the old heart vs. head conflict. North Dakota State? (Actually, there are those who think NDSU could go a few rounds.) Minnesota? (Maybe not so much, but Rick Barnes’ teams usually fold like lawn chairs.) Could VCU wear a glass slipper by defeating UCLA?

For a hoops lover, this week is better than Christmas — because you just get present after present.

Getting home is tough. There are all the chores one postponed during Session. (Can anyone say, “Laundry”?)

There are conference calls with candidates, both declared and undeclared. There are speeches that one promised to give. There are petitions to be signed and money to be raised and fundraisers to attend and doors to be knocked.

And, just as it all seems too overwhelming for words, here comes Tournament Week. Followed by Selection Sunday. Followed by the best four days in a basketball lover’s life–the Round of 64 and the Round of 32.

Like it’s not bad enough to lose an hour of sleep tonight.

Now comes word that, “In the spring, there is a clear statistically significant increase in the risk of suffering a heart attack.”

Of this job is the chance to meet political leaders from other states and countries. Today, I spent some time with Ferdos Ameen, a young political leader in Iraq.

Ferdos has been here for three months, working with the National Democratic Institute. She received the Andi Parhamovich fellowship, named in memory of an NDI staffer who was killed in Baghdad.

Ferdos has been working to bring more women into the political process in Iraq. She and others like her are on the very front lines of democracy.

During the General Assembly, we typically adjourn to a time certain. “Mr. Speaker, I move the House adjourn to reconvene tomorrow at 12 noon” is a typical motion.

But on the last day, we adjourn sine die. That’s Latin for “without day.” In other words, we don’t specify the next day we will reconvene.

How to pronounce sine die? When I first arrived, speakers used the preferred dictionary pronunciation of “SAYH-nee DIE.” That’s how dictionaries from Webster’s to West’s say it’s correctly pronounced.

Lately, we’ve taken on Latinate affectations, saying “SEE-nay DEE-ay.”

I much prefer the former.

As someone who grew up in the Upper Midwest, where snow is regarded as a minor irritant, I did not discover the wonders of a Snow Day until I moved to Virginia. But I have adapted.

Seeing all that snow on the first full work day after Session was a gift. I’ll start getting caught up. And winding down.