It has been dark and chill and wet in Nebraska these last several days. Like the inside of a martini shaker, but with more pollen. Starlings have emptied our bird feeder in a manner of minutes. Evil bastard invasive species. . . like people, but smaller and with feathers.
In the climate of the department, it is celebratory. The winners of various writing awards took five minutes at the front of a full room to read their award-winning work. And although my head was doing its profoundly discomfitting impression of a barometer, I enjoyed pretty much all the pieces. Some of the ugrads. . . well, they're young. It's sweet to see such seriousness. And anxiety about standing in front of people.
Tomorrow, I should review recent treats. Like Hot Fuzz and the only RPG D's ever owned--and for the first time in her life she's psyched about them. One clue, it ain't D&D.
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