I’m home!

It took longer than I thought — I was so worn out from an invigorating and stressful weekend that I didn’t trust myself to drive all the way from the airport to Morris, so I got a cheap motel room and got some sleep before completing the journey. And that means I’ve arrived back just barely in time to switch out of the lampshade on my head and dancin’ shoes to tidy up and swing into professorial action and run some meetings. The blog thing will have to wait a little while as I get some work done.

Y’all know what the beads mean

I received a package from New Orleans the other day (thanks, O Sender!) which contained this happy purple octopus and an assortment of bead necklaces.

Nawlinsgear

I am aware of the custom, and I know what I’m obligated to do upon receiving a handful of necklaces…I must expose my breasts. I’m not one to flout tradition, so I gulped down some Southern Comfort (also part of the custom, right?) and have taken the obligate photo. I’ll put it below the fold to spare the sensitive.

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Curse you, John Wilkins!

I’m all bleary-eyed this morning because late last night, Wilkins linked to this article on Pink Floyd and incidentally sent me off on a late night music jag. He is truly a horrible person.

Pink Floyd was the soundtrack of my youth, from adolescence through grad school and starting a family. I have all their albums, and have listened to every one multiple times — I know (or at least, used to know) the lyrics to “The Gnome”, even, that’s how bad it was. So it was very triggering of Wilkins to remind me, and I had to play a bunch of them very loudly on the home stereo and wallow in the sound.

Don’t worry, Mary was away, so it was just me, alone in a big empty house with most of the lights out, listening to “Careful With That Axe, Eugene” after midnight. I felt like a lonely anomie-laden teenager again. It was great! I’m just paying the price this morning…this morning when I have to bunker down in my office and grade papers.

So now I have to inflict some of it on you. Here’s one of my favorites, “One of These Days”, from Meddle.

Oh, man, there were good memories in there. When my kids were little, we had a tradition of sleeping in on Sunday and then making pancakes (if they’d been very good, chocolate chip pancakes), and sometimes I’d put on Atom Heart Mother while I was puttering in the kitchen, just because “Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast” was the perfect accompaniment. Now I can’t hear it without an overlay of maudlin sentimentality and memories of happy kids.

Anyone else remember when bands would put out music that was more than three minutes long?

OK, now must go grade.

Thanks, Ray!

I did that brief interview with Ray Comfort last weekend, and today I find a nice gift basket waiting for me.

giftbasket

It looks a bit picked over already because I picked it up just before heading off to a division meeting, so I opened it up and encouraged my colleagues to help themselves. Then I sat back and watched their physiological responses after sampling. Departmental politics can be brutal.

(Nah, just joking, I wasn’t at all worried. Ray Comfort is a total ditzwaffle when it comes to science and logic and reason, but I think he’s probably a better socialized ape than many scientists I can think of.)

It’s going to be one of those days

I’m operating on very little sleep, and I’ve noticed this past week that even when I do go to bed my brain is a jumble of chaos — too much work piled up on top of everything, so I can’t even relax when I lie down and turn out the lights. I did get caught up on a lot of grading, but still…I think I need to put this sign on my door for a while.

caution-do-not-poke-the-deep-ones

End-of-term madness descends

The next few days are going to be horrible. Today, I’ve got Cafe Scientifique (6pm, Common Cup Coffeehouse in Morris), in which I’m giving a talk on junk DNA. In addition, though, I’m also scrambling to get a lot of grading done — I’ve got to be all caught up before we roll into finals week. Just to add to the stress, I’m also going off to give talks at the Orange County Freethought Alliance annual meeting on Saturday, and at the University of California Riverside on Sunday. Why do I do this to myself? I don’t know. Probably because I’ll enjoy myself at these events, meet lots of interesting people, and learn new stuff.

But, aaargh, papers, exams, responsibilities and obligations!

Don’t go outside!

I made the mistake of leaving my snug warm house. It’s windy out there! The temperatures are right there on that edge where one minute it’s snowing, the next it’s sleeting, the next it’s raining, and then back ’round again! It’s cold, damp, and piercing; I prefer a calm dry -20°F to this soggy frigidity.

I’m staying indoors the rest of the day. Slippers on. Snuggly blanket close at hand. Not looking out the window ever.

Don’t mind me, I’ll just be curled up in the corner, gibbering

It’s been a long night and a busily obsessive day ahead of me. This is what has been and will be tying me up for a while.

pageproofs

Yeah, first pass page proofs for some book. It’s perfect timing: I’ve been trying to get students status reports for my classes, I’ve been grading stuff, I’ve had meetings, we had a blizzard, and oh, right, aren’t taxes due sometime soon? I think I’m going to break soon.

Status update

This stupid dilatory storm finally arrived in Morris last night, and dumped 4 or 5 inches of wet heavy stuff on us. It’s still coming down heavily, but this morning I braved the blizzard and cleared my driveway and sidewalk…I’ll have to do it again later, since it shows no sign of letting up, and the snowplows also haven’t cleared my street yet.

This is just to let the world know that I’m still alive.

It’s not a certain thing, you know, and it’s a rather disappointing fact of life that I’m not likely to die by getting eaten by a tiger or splattered by a falling meteor, but the prosaic, mundane heart attack while shoveling snow…yeah, that’s the most likely fate for someone like me. Boring, isn’t it?

There’s no way I’m ever going to be allowed into Valhalla, damn it.