Civil Eyes

Because Dawn is nice and kind, we spent time at Barnes and Noble this morning. A berry tart, a blueberry spice scone, and a breakfast pannini with coffee and tea, sitting at a table for two on a raised dais overlooking the bookstore--it just felt like a nice, non-trashy thing to do. We made lists of Christmas shopping and home improvement work that Has To Be Done, and looked at leather journals.

So I liked that. In the past fifteen years I've pulled alternators and redone foundation piers and balanced other people's checkbooks and climbed 8,500-foot mountains with a 45-pound pack. So I feel like it isn't terminally pretentious of me to really enjoy some aspects of a humane and literary lifestyle for a bit from time to time. I know it fits the stereotype of the middle-aged academic, and I hate fitting stereotypes. But if I at least listen to cool stuff, to Mark Knopfler and Medieval Babes and the Chieftains rather than opera and Schoenberg, surely I still have not utterly descended ("ascended"?) into ivory towerhood?

For Dawn's birthday in May, I'm starting to think of themes. How about, "Bringing the Crunch for over Twenty Years"?

I'll be 48 tomorrow.