(Still no pictures...)
I passed up the chance this morning to check out the stage where the Democratic debate is being held tonight. Most of the people in my office are the team which has been managing the enormous process of hosting the event. I'm part of a group that's putting out a periodical a week this month, thanks to a perfect storm of publication dates, and so was proofreading and writing headlines right before press time instead of touring the debate venue.
It's amazing, really, to think about all that happens to a person from the time a child announces "I'm going to be president when I grow up" to the moment when she or he is standing on a stage (cooled by temporary auxiliary air conditioning, to counteract the heat of television lights) as a potential party nominee. You wonder what it is that sets apart the ones who make it even that far - and how long the vision had been with them for real - because I'd bet that almost every American child says at least once "When I'm President, I'll...." (fill in the blank: ban broccoli, give everyone a pony, end poverty, sort out the healthcare mess...).
Once upon a time, I thought I was going to be an English professor, a medievalist even. I spent a lot of time in school learning how to be one, and a fair amount of time since then learning how not to be one. I've been writing profiles of the college's new faculty members recently, people who know a lot about combinatorics, or neurobiology, or prediction markets, or Machiavelli, and it's been the best sort of mind-stretching challenge, trying to comprehend enough of their passions to be able to introduce them to the community. That liberal arts education comes in handy sometimes; it's good to be a generalist.
In spite of any evidence here (or on Ravelry), there's been knitting (stripey socks! mystery stole! scarves! - not to mention a bit of sweater plotting) and even some gardening going on (one new planting bed, and some grass reseeded after the tree work). And of course, laundry. Plenty of laundry. Thanks for dropping by while the blog is finding its way back home.