Further Musings

Two inches smaller for each suit.

On Friday afternoon we drove into town to deposit Charity’s rental car.  Because she set her right hand glove on the back of the car we also deposited the glove en-route.  Hours later we circled back but couldn’t find it.

This left Charity in the sad state of attending the Messiah with only one of her favorite gloves.

Saturday I retraced the route one last time, spotted a black object off the side, whipped the car onto the grassy shoulder, and found it.   A triumphant return with the missing glove followed!

Only one problem.  When we went to find the left-hand glove it was gone.  Lost.

Really?  If this a ploy for a new pair of gloves just say so!

That left us searching again today for the (second) missing glove.  We drove back to campus and success.

I found it in the parking lot, a lone black speck in a sea of asphalt.

We had this very fun group of kids and their parents over tonight.  Very cute and very fun.  Love their tv watching strategy.

Today Dad sent me this nifty feature (see below) from a recent article on great pitchers.

Given my perfect record as a pitcher (1-0) in little league I think I might have also had the gift.  Chose the life of the mind of course, but probably could have made it. 

One upside about moving is that has forced us to touch every last item we own and decide if we really need/want to keep it through two moves in the next year.

For the most part I’ve been surprised at how little we have.

One area where this did not apply was my sock drawer.  Total pair count?  45.   We narrowed it down and got rid about 20 pairs. It’s much less crowded now.

After receiving as many rejection letters from schools as I have over the last few years, writing a rejection letter to a school feels as good as advertised.

When a school contacted me today to let me know that I had the privilege of being considered for their position I really wanted to write the following

Dear School X,

Thank you for your interest in my application.  Your letter of interest was one of many inquiries I received from a talented pool of highly regarded schools.  While I was extremely impressed with your schools credentials (faculty, pay, and excellent student body) I regret to inform you that I have selected another school to work for next year.

Best of luck in your search.

Wasn’t quite that cheeky but it was still very fun!

Question:  Do the authors agree that legislatures make a difference in policy-making?  Why or why not?

Answer: Yes.  See article for reasons.

GoogleMaps informed me today that streetview is available on every continent.  I was skeptical.  I was wrong.  Love it.

I particularly like the penguin in the lower right-hand corner.  When you move him along the street he flies.

Here’s my connection to fame.  I don’t like this dog but I do know it.

I don’t know if I feel known or condemned by the monikers.  “Fighting the System” made me laugh the hardest.

Our gas oven is a bit . . . ah . . . elderly.  Very functional, but elderly.  As such, I’ve always estimated temperature by the thermometer in the oven instead of the gauge on the stove.  What hadn’t quite sunk in over the last six years is that the oven thermometer itself might also been elderly.

How elderly you might ask?

65 degrees too high, that’s how elderly, or so the new oven thermometer has revealed.

Just think, for years I’ve thought that the reason I’ve never burned anything is that I’m such a clever cook.

In addition to wondering how I’ll have to adjust my sense of cooking times, I wonder if there is an upper limit to how highly I can think of myself without cause!

No points, but it did make me laugh. 

I like this photo because of its brash light.  Makes me feel like I’m out on a dare during college.  Yes this is me being wild; eating fruit under a harsh flash.  What can I say?

For years Bill was one of my best buddies here in Chapel Hill.  Nowadays he’s still on my mind a lot and we’re usually on the phone once or twice a month trading stories about beer or church.  He may not be on my mind quite as much as this photo floating around Facebook seems to imply but still a good bit, especially when eating at Milltown.

You know you’re old when a 23-year-old approaches you at church, mentions that he’s interested in cross-generational friendships, and finally realize that he means you.