. . . to blog about. I've been busy (obviously), but the break is here, and that means playing catch up. Starting with the blog. Okay, really, it started yesterday with a bout of shopping and cleaning and making cookies. My feminine domesticity shining through. It was so nice to not have to consider what the next day required me to do last night. So, here I am. Boring the socks off of you.
One of the things I saw yesterday near the university on S. College was the following sign on the Checkers billboard: There here! Yes, something about some sort of food I'd never eat, and I should add, never will. Checkers isn't exactly my idea of food anyway. (And if it's yours, well, not everyone is perfect.) It really took me a while to figure out what they were trying to communicate. I actually put quite a bit of thought into figuring this out. I do that with license plates too. Anyway, yeah, brain cells I'll never get back. And neither will you, reading this.
So my students found my poem about masturbation online. It was only a matter of time. And that's fine. But they also seemed to neglect the entire premise of cow killing that goes on in the poem too. Whatever. Let's focus on auto-eroticism in a poem that has a poleax. It's fine. Sure.
This past weekend I feel like I practically lived downtown. I am starting to get familiar with the layout, where things are that I've heard about via the news/newspaper/drunken stories from colleagues and/or students.
That's it for the moment. All I've got. I just realized I am in need of a nap. Yes, a nap. That's right. When one is in academia, and one has a schedule that is conducive to having a midday siesta, and also when one is on vacation from said academic schedule, one can have a nap.
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