And so finally I bike to work.
Ohhhh, I needed that. The slap in the face. Cold air. A reminder: this is how it is.
Flowers of September. I don’t remember there being so many asters here in the past! Does it change, along the shores of Lake Mendota? You mean things change? Oh, why didn't I think that before?
After classes I’m heading toward State Street for coffee. Preparations for tomorrow: it has been sixty years since an American president has visited the UW campus. Tomorrow, Obama arrives to speak here.
It’s not clear that I can actually witness this (more on that tomorrow), but today, I’m able to see how quickly a campus transforms itself into a secure zone. Suddenly our laidback Library Mall, where young men cavort in shorts and t-shirts almost year round, is dotted with small groups of a different type.
Men in somber suits and ties. They’re everywhere.
I bike home quickly. It's cool and I have work to do. And I want to take some time this evening just to think and mull.
At home, I put on music to help me with this and of course, it does just the opposite. I lose myself in the songs of years ago -- I'm sure everyone has their own cache. Would it surprise you to know that mine jumps the range from pop, to musical, to jazz, to classical and especially choral? Tonight was a choral night.
I set my internal alarm for an early wake up and toddle off to try for at least some basic number of hours of sleep.