Whew. This week has largely had its way with me. It’ll be a long day tomorrow, but it ought to be manageable. The upcoming three-day weekend is exceptionally well-timed.
There was a dead armadillo on the side of the road on the way home from work tonight, and it might have been the 200th time I’ve seen such. Not once in my life have I ever seen a live one.
I’m obsessively checking Sunday’s weather forecast for Indianapolis. It looked fine for a long time, but it’s up to a 30% chance of rain now. I hope it holds off. I’m starved for the Indianapolis 500 in HD. (Almost all of the other IndyCar races are on Versus this year, which I don’t get in HD.)
Most of the “when I have kids, I’m going to/not going to…” thoughts I ever had have fallen out of my head. I’ve remembered one, though. My mother acted like sweet cereal was toxic waste when my sister and I were little. Both of our boys can have anything they want.
We need to get the telescope out soon, while we’ve still got clear nights cool enough for mosquitoes to roost. Did you know that on a moonless night, Andromeda (which is 2.5 million light-years away) is visible as a faint smudge, even with the naked eye? How cool is that?
Michael Vick certainly should play football again. I’m a fan of neither him nor that thuggish Virginia Tech football environment he emerged from, but he pled and served his time. Why is it even controversial? It kills me how selectively intolerant we are concerning bad celebrity behavior. Vick could have beaten someone into paraplegia with a jack handle and not been as roundly demonized.
Julie, a friend and colleague, just earned her degree (congratulations!). She was telling me today that she wanted to throw herself into something fun now that she doesn’t have to study anymore. She’s thinking horses, or tennis, or maybe continuing her flying lessons. I suggested the accordion.