The daily rind – Mar 18th – misc
Finally, a complete discussion of the relative merits of cheese. For instance, on the subject of cheese versus cricket: “Cheese is at least comprehensible on some level or other.”
(Via The Cheese Diaries, which is always enjoyable but also makes me feel rather, um, uncultured. I can’t help it: aerosolized cheese is made to seem completely natural here. I’m a victim.)
I have the technology, too – Mar 17th – school/work
An entirely unsuccessful strategy:
“I got my paper from Google. I’m sure my instructor has never heard of Google. Nobody else even uses Google. I’ll never be discovered.”
Right?
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Two quick items – Mar 11th – tucson
One: Wicked head-wind on the way home this afternoon. I was pedaling in gears I had never even seen before.
Two: The grating dust in my eyes is made less acute by the fact that it’s Girl Scout Cookie Season. Mmmm, Thin Mints.
Life in the academy – Mar 10th – school/work
Michael Bérubé lays out the rules for how academic conferences actually work. My favorite is number two:
Two, questioners will be required to begin all questions by saying, “this is really more of a comment than a question—I wonder if you could say more about X,” on the condition that X was either unmentioned in or tangential to the paper itself. (Questions must be at least three minutes long.)
Springtime in the desert – Mar 8th – tucson
We’ve had an unusually long winter here in Tucson. By this time last year, the primrose in the front of the house had been blooming for weeks; this year, it hasn’t blossomed at all yet. We’ve had plenty of water, but the temperature has been chilly. Today, we shot right up to nearly 90 degrees, and I knew that my annual “hate this place” season has unoffically begun.
Don’t get me wrong; half the country still has months to spend inside, and I can spend all afternoon out on the patio. I love that part. As much as I miss the snow that I grew up with, Tucson in the winter is a great place to be. But as Heather reminded me today, in three weeks it will be too hot. I’ll be a sweaty, hairy beast by the time I reach campus on my bike; my teaching shirt will be wrinkly; I’ll be grimy with sunscreen; there will be mosquitos, and the shade will no longer offer refuge from the heat.
Ah, the desert. If I’m lucky, however, the primrose will be blooming.
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