Labor Day Weekend, Pt. 1

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Labor Day Weekend is right about half over so here comes the CBS Halftime Report - and an exciting first half it's been, including stolen cars, placement tests, disembodied voices, wrong turns, weddings, Dewar's, assemblies, full-time employment, brunches, PGOATS, coupons, farmstands and more. In fact, more poetic accounts would end there, inviting you to infect the happenings with your own imagination and create, create, create... but given that your versions might end in Nuts with hangovers, we'll give the more traditional Aristotelian take:

Saturday morning, I awoke from slumber, yawned and spread my arms appropriately, dived into a bowl of cheerios (in a metaphorical and not "oh no he's shrunk to four inches" manner) and then went to walk the dogs when lo, it became apparent to my traditional five pronged sense attack on the world that ye old Honda was not in the driveway. There are all kinds of interesting philosophical discussions to be had on the actual phenomenological process involved in coming to a place and finding something *not* to be there, for example do you have an internal list of objects that should be there and after ticking them off one by one, did the car not have its tick, or do you have internalized reality states with which you perform some kind of "Guess What's Different Between These Pictures" game like you were an annoyed dentist office appointee reading Highlights, but given the size of the car and its notable absence I think we'll relate it to an automatic "Huh?" that emanated from my brain and mouth. I quickly guessed that it had been Becked and not stolen, which was not the biggest deal ever except that all of my school stuff was in the backseat - argh. Fear not, gentle reader, nothing came of it - I took the '92 Subaru:



(but please imagine it as metallic baby blue with absolutely no rust on its sides) all the way into Natick without incident. Without my math supplies, of course, I was unable to prepare lessons for next week forced to read my new ridiculous, probably-designed-to-impress-onlookers endeavor, Remembrance of Things Past. This perplexed more than a few Nuts, as they had already comfortably categorized me as Math-Science guy and therefore incapable of understanding the mysterious "right brainedness" with which they so adequately labeled themselves, probably leading them to believe that maybe I did have some inkling of insight into their interiors, maybe this Positivistic Pretense of my Profession was just something to put them at ease as I infiltrated their puerilely pure minds, and this entire episode of category evasion just rendered me a big, scary thing. SO, in short, they started throwing tomatoes at me, screaming "get behind me Satan!" and the like as I protested that it was Proust, not Faust, to no avail. I blame the entire episode and all forthcoming outcomes squarely on Beck the Civic Stealer, and I hope she is, in the end, happy that she has ruined my life at the Nut. Not really.

SO we conducted the Placement tests to many a groan, but students performed relatively well. On my end, I graded probably 50 to 60 multiple choice tests in the span of an hour, and just to prove it I'll report that

BBCBEACBAAEABEADCAACEAAABABDCCBBDCABDCAEDBCABBCCDA

was the order of the answers of the fifty questions because after you check 50 to 60 tests, the patterns stick with you whether you want them to or not. My duty done, I took the Subaru back home and got ready for the wedding of Mara, a friend of IPJ, IPMM and the Beck, at which I knew no one. The drive there gave an exciting prelude, as the disembodied voice of a GPS system led us repeatedly astray en route, at one point even directing us, literally, in a big circle. I personally was unaware that unconscious computer systems cracked jokes, but I had the experience yesterday. Eventually the Iron Fist went flying and we stopped for directions... and conveniently enough, we rolled up to the Pierce House shortly thereafter. It was a lovely wedding, and despite the impending hurricane that threatened the outdoor ceremony, we survived without rain and just a small amount of frigid discomfort. New England in September, who knew? The ceremony really was lovely as rituals go, with some nice and atypical things said - the wars taking place in the world were mentioned, a nice poem about the sacred nature of the secrets that still exist between a married couple and an excerpt from Toni Morrison's Jazz that really bordered on erotic, but definitely spiced (channeled) things up a bit. The ceremony took place in a setting that strongly resembles the one where Beck and mine will take place (hopefully minus the hurricane) up in Geneseo, and similarly we only had to walk to an old mansion of a home for the reception which is a great feature. Nice home, nice hors d'oeuvres, nice bar with Dewar's and man, the Dewar's and Coke make for a tasty wedding-time beverage, if you were wondering. Live band who were great if a little loud and their takes on standards and classics were a lot better than their takes on things like B-52 songs - shmaltz does, as it turns out, have a threshold. So, fun times had by all, and the trip home was a lot less eventful.

Sunday morning was the first Walnut Assembly of the year, where I saw Trig class All-Stars Alanna and Kathi (who had wicked cool summers) before the insanity even started. Also before the insanity, I went from teaching another class to not teaching another class to teaching another class this semester in the span of maybe ten minutes (only later to have the class withdrawn an hour and a half later) - so there seems to be a need and a lack of funds butting heads for something new and different. The assembly itself was great - I introduced myself onstage, mic and all, and did not trip. The students then put on a long, occasionally hilarious set of sketches skewering all things Nutty, which was entertaining, and then I met my advisee group, this time with Marc, another Trig All-Star, also in attendance. Then I drove back through the rain to Westboro(ugh), where we met Ben and Ali and IPJ and IPMM for brunch. Mmmmm, mmmm good. The Ben Ali COmbo were unsurprisingly a hit with the IP's, and among other things we were able to discuss (mysterious booming and ultimately unrevealing-as-to-why voice here) coupons and the fact that Ali's new nickname is PGOAT. And now I think we are more or less contractually obligated to move wherever they do and vice versa after the graduation of the two vet gals. Anyhoo, awesome brunch; the appropriate parties drove Rochesterward and the remaining kiddos piled in the Civic and stopped by a farmstand en route to our Providence Rd. abodes.

So that was the first half - doubtful, as the second half started for me with a nap and now Beck is up at work, that things will be quite as exciting in the second. But I'm going to buck that inclination by starting it with a cinematic classic. Ooh, ooh, they thought, what could it mean?

Well, I don't know, Bobo!!!!!!