When I grow up, I want to be a box of crayons.
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I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with a man from Maintenance, on campus, this morning, hardly an hour and a half ago. Let me set the scene, for you: I’m teaching my Theatre Appreciation class, which is held each Monday and Wednesday morning in the small theatre studio, a few rooms down from my office. I’m in the middle of my lecture, standing in front of several large benches, set pieces for our upcoming production. My back is both to the door and the darkened stage. One of my students, who insists on being called Poonie May, suddenly...
That'd be on account of my "driver's lung."
I'm entering Week 3 at the new job, and the question I get asked most frequently isn't about the co-workers. That question ranks around #2, or #3. The one burning thing inquiring minds want to know is How Do You Manage That Long, Awful Drive? It's an hour in to work, and an hour home, though the drive home seems much quicker. I'm not sure why. Anyway, I thought about that question this morning, when I was stopped, yet again behind a truck hauling half a mobile home. We were squenched over on the right side of Highway 45 (not Highway 45 Alternate)...
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