Yes, kids, that's me in Newcastle, U.K., circa 1984 with my mohawk flopped down instead of gelled up. Proof positive that I used to be slim. And dig that crazy wallpaper. The photo is courtesy of Arnold Akien, a nice fellow I met at my first British convention with whom I've established a latter day e-mail correspondence. He recently sent me an autographed copy of Lindsey Davis' new Falco mystery -- autographed to me personally. Is there a better sort of friend than one who gets you something you didn't even know you wanted?
It's so beautiful this month. I love the long, long days and the consistently good weather. The heat feels good, never crossing the line from hot to too hot. I'm enjoying not wearing layers; it feels decadent to go to work without a sweater. My garden is bursting with ripeness, rich color, and a profusion of blooms. I'm very busy all the time, but I have plenty of energy and I can tell going to the gym is making me stronger as well as giving me extra stamina. The only drawback to all this health and sunshine is that I seem to have a hard time sleeping. I either can't fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning, or I fall asleep instantly at midnight and am wide awake at 6:30am. It's weird.
I had my first test in Anthropology Thursday night. I can tell I did well, although I cringe to see what the professor thinks of my essay on why Anthropology is both a Humanity and a Science. I hate writing essays in class. I am inclined towards the sweeping generalization and the screamingly obvious examples that parrot the textbook. It's not my strong point.
Apropos of nothing, John and I agree that we'll look for a dog after we get back from our October trip to the Caribbean. We'll be home for several months after that, so we can get our new animal used to the routine. We've been to the Peninsula Humane Society and looked around, but we didn't see a dog that was a good match for us. We don't want a puppy, though it's a shame to miss out on the cutest phase of a dog's life. In fact, I wouldn't mind taking a senior dog just because it breaks my heart when animals have nowhere to go when their owners enter nursing homes or die. And yet I'm not quite ready for a new dog. I still miss Dixie enough to bring tears to my eyes at least once a week. It's been just about three months since she died. I feel strange about replacing her.
Well, we'll see after October.
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