I got to chair one of the last sessions of the conference last weekend:
On Saturday, we had the opportunity to spend part of a beautiful spring day in a nice Greenville, South Carolina park:
Spring, it seems, has appeared everywhere. Or the places which matter, which is to say the place I am at the moment:
We hung out at a waterfall:
We temporarily also solved a running problem:
And that means a delicious sandwich, the likes of which you just can’t do in Bloomington:
A friend of ours in Bloomington is from Georgia. He’s a big Publix guy, he knows our pain and he has assured us there is no reasonable substitute. That didn’t matter this weekend, though, because we got to have a picnic.
Back to it today, though. I rode my bike to work, because weather and my schedule conspired to work together for a change. (Usually I have to stay past dark or it is raining or too cold or whatever. But, finally, a 5 p.m. Monday and nice weather mean I could spend my commute turning small circles with my feet. And I saw this:
They were pouring concrete. They were still on that site when I went back by later this evening. I imagine they got a lot done today. You better when you have a big concrete boom like that out there, I suppose.
It is surprising you can’t really hear them. But, according to the legend I’m making up as I type, under a quiet, full moon you can hear the muffled screams in the concrete beams.