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The 80s kids here will get the musician reference. And the reason for it? Well, when your day begins as mine did, way many hours too early in the middle of the night with the cat horking a hairball right in the middle of your blanky, I think it's fair to say, as Howard did, that things can only get better.
And they did, for the most part. Seminar today was long, tedious and dull, as most of my subjects of expertise are. I can't even send you over to my glowing biography, as the link to today's session has already been taken down, but if you move fast you can see the syllabus for the same program being offered here tomorrow with a different faculty. Those of you with insomnia might want to check it out if you can't get back to sleep after the next hairball run.
As usual for these things, I was exhausted when it was all over, my throat and feet hurting from the unaccustomed amounts of yakking and standing, and I get to get up at the same un-for-me-godly hour tomorrow and make the identical drive for four court appearances in two separate buildings half an hour apart. I've already had the classic back-in-school-naked dream about screwing up and not making it to any of these appearances, and, worse, having my cell phone confiscated by the one judge who's a total paranoiac about having ringtones going off in his courtroom.
During today's session, my mobile was in silent mode and behaved itself nicely, except for the very tail end of my lecture, when the tower-searching-for-your-phone thingy kept setting off interference on the microphone that was amplifying and recording my scintillating text. Turned out, when all was done, that it was on account of my getting no fewer than five hangup calls from a Williamsville (i.e., near my home) phone exchange. I panicked for a second, thinking it was Emily in some kind of trouble, but she was home safe and up to her ears in homework. Then I returned the call, which turned out to be a Baptist church switchboard on Main Street just outside the Village. Some technogeek was doing work on their centrex and kept dialing what he thought was his office- but was actually mine, and forwarding to my mobile- while he troubleshot. I better not catch him working in their baptistry or I'm gonna immerse him in the name of three members of Trinity and take him out in the name of only two.
Goofiest story of the week that coulda been real scary? Right here. a 20-year-old Minnesota man launched a blistering written attack on a longlost female flame, sending her pictures of assault rifles and other pleasant scenes, and police found a backpack full of ammo and clear indications that dude was ready to travel all the way to Connecticut to complete his evil plan. Saving the day, though, was his own mother. She'd found the envelopes addressed to his would-be victim, having no idea what was in them, and very helpfully wrote the nutjob's return address on the outside of each. Somehow I'm picturing Marge Gunderson from Fargo pulling that kind of trick on one of her nearby psychos; must be that marvelous Lake Wobegon spirit goin, huh there?
And they did, for the most part. Seminar today was long, tedious and dull, as most of my subjects of expertise are. I can't even send you over to my glowing biography, as the link to today's session has already been taken down, but if you move fast you can see the syllabus for the same program being offered here tomorrow with a different faculty. Those of you with insomnia might want to check it out if you can't get back to sleep after the next hairball run.
As usual for these things, I was exhausted when it was all over, my throat and feet hurting from the unaccustomed amounts of yakking and standing, and I get to get up at the same un-for-me-godly hour tomorrow and make the identical drive for four court appearances in two separate buildings half an hour apart. I've already had the classic back-in-school-naked dream about screwing up and not making it to any of these appearances, and, worse, having my cell phone confiscated by the one judge who's a total paranoiac about having ringtones going off in his courtroom.
During today's session, my mobile was in silent mode and behaved itself nicely, except for the very tail end of my lecture, when the tower-searching-for-your-phone thingy kept setting off interference on the microphone that was amplifying and recording my scintillating text. Turned out, when all was done, that it was on account of my getting no fewer than five hangup calls from a Williamsville (i.e., near my home) phone exchange. I panicked for a second, thinking it was Emily in some kind of trouble, but she was home safe and up to her ears in homework. Then I returned the call, which turned out to be a Baptist church switchboard on Main Street just outside the Village. Some technogeek was doing work on their centrex and kept dialing what he thought was his office- but was actually mine, and forwarding to my mobile- while he troubleshot. I better not catch him working in their baptistry or I'm gonna immerse him in the name of three members of Trinity and take him out in the name of only two.
Goofiest story of the week that coulda been real scary? Right here. a 20-year-old Minnesota man launched a blistering written attack on a longlost female flame, sending her pictures of assault rifles and other pleasant scenes, and police found a backpack full of ammo and clear indications that dude was ready to travel all the way to Connecticut to complete his evil plan. Saving the day, though, was his own mother. She'd found the envelopes addressed to his would-be victim, having no idea what was in them, and very helpfully wrote the nutjob's return address on the outside of each. Somehow I'm picturing Marge Gunderson from Fargo pulling that kind of trick on one of her nearby psychos; must be that marvelous Lake Wobegon spirit goin, huh there?