We’re coming to it now, he said with a cosmic blend of emotions — excitement, lament, worry, stress, the weary desire for a nap, fear of returning to a schedule, the optimism of returning to a schedule, paralysis by analysis and others. I am excited for the new semester, which begins next week. But that means the summer is almost over, which is a sadness, but a real lament that that also means the actual, meteorological summer is almost over. And did I do enough with it? Probably not, because of the worry and stress of the upcoming semester and all the new classes.

Prep is a word I’ve used something like nine times here in the last month, and thought about constantly. I am doing new class preps seven, eight and nine this term. I have been here four terms so far. So there’s your worry and stress.

Which leads us right into the desire for a nap. That or my poor sleep habits. I am not a very good sleeper. And that’s also figuring into the summer laments. Worse, it is a very small concern when considering a proper schedule. But this is a low buzz rather than a blaring klaxon. My entire adult life I have lived in fear of the alarm clock: what if I miss it. As such, getting out the door each day is usually one of the day’s biggest challenges. So, in that way, I’m fortunate.

There’s also the fortune that comes with a return to a schedule. No more planning. Just doing. Which is great because I’ve been thinking about how one of these classes should work for … I dunno, seven eight months now. Paralysis by analysis.

And there’s this weird, irrational belief: when the semester starts, I’ll actually have more time to figure out all the unknowns. That seems like the desperate bargaining of a desperately bargaining mind, no? But, again. No more planning. Just doing.

Doing much more. Aye, there’s the rub.

Tomorrow we have a day-long faculty meeting.

Tuesday, when classes begin, we’ll actually be under contract.

Today, I went to a different kind of meeting. I’m on a county-wide committee, which of course is part of my “service to the community.” This is a traffic safety thing. On the way, I drove down Main Street.

No kidding, that’s the name of that road.

When I tell people it’s a lot like home, that is a road I drove down today.

Today’s meeting was about implementing some traffic improvement and traffic calming elements at historically dangerous spots. It’s all done based on data which acknowledges that funds and grants are finite, and not every street we have emotional, dangerous, encounters on are at the top of the list. It’s a round-and-round sort of argument. But the implementation here is one part structural, road engineering, and one part psychological, human engineering, which is how they came to invite me to the thing. I suppose they were running low on options.

But at one point, a fellow down at the other end of the table, a county higher up, said “Perhaps the gentleman from Rowan … ” and pointed at me.

So, you bet, this is service to the community, and it sits proudly on my vita. Which I need to update.

When I got home, having driven down that bustling main street once again, we went for a bike ride. It was a slight variation of my 25-mile time trial. And I had good legs today. Moving so fast was I that I did not see the driveway gravel that had leaked into a road. I hit it hard, knew it right away and thought If I still have air pressure in a quarter of a mile I’ll be OK.

I did not have air pressure in a quarter of a mile. But I was OK. So I stood in someone’s yard — not for the first time this year — replacing a tube. My sixth of the year. Or maybe my eighth.

So I did the whole thing, removed the wheel from the frame, pulled the tire of the wheel, slipped the tube out from the tire. I spent a long time running my fingers over the wheel and inside the tube, just to make sure nothing was inside there. Which seems silly since I knew it was a handful of stone just down the street.

I put the tire back on the wheel, and then tucked the tube inside the tire, then folded the other side of the tire inside the wheel. All that was left to do is inflate it.

I carry a handheld pump in my jersey pocket. It’ll inflate a tire about halfway, and give you an unanticipated arm workout at the same time. It’s fine enough in a pinch. If I can get it working it will put enough air in the tube to get you home, but the ride is basically over.

So last, month, I bought an electric pump. It fits neatly in your pocket. You put it on the valve, press one button and, supposedly it inflates the tube. It is said the thing holds a charge for months, and that you can basically inflate two tubes on one charge. I’ve been carrying it for weeks, almost forgot about it, but then realized, this is the perfect time to try it. If it doesn’t work, I can get home in just three miles using the old hand pump. I dug the electric one out of my pocket, put it on the valve, pressed the button and waited a second or so for it to come to life. Then it hummed, vibrated slightly, and filled the tire up right away

I am impressed.

I didn’t fill it to capacity, because I wanted to have some extra juice in the thing for later if necessary. Even still, it was vastly superior to the hand pump. Faster, and more air pressure, and it allowed me to continue the planned route, rather than limping home. I was only four miles behind my lovely bride, which meant the whole thing, from stopping to starting, took about 12 or 13 minutes. It would have taken much longer, and been more frustrating, if I’d only had the hand pump.

I stopped a bit later to put a bit more air in the tube. And it was then that I resolved to buy about a dozen more of these little pumps, have a bandolier made and wear them across my chest, like some old western warlord.

And now I will tell everyone who rides a bike about electric pumps. You can get the Cycplus for a lower price if you shop around. After one use, though, I am reasonably sold.

I never saw The Yankee again. She was too far ahead, and moving very fast, indeed. But I had a nice enough ride, even if I was standing still for too long to keep my legs warm.

Here’s a shot over my shoulder.

And a left-handed shadow selfie at 18 miles per hour.

But, for now, back to the school work.

Just another mild, gray August day. Weird in the ways that any day can be when it’s warm, but pleasant, but overcast. Is this cloud cover? Is it Canada on fire? Why do both feel equally ominous when clearly one is worse than the other?

I went to campus today to visit with a colleague. We are discussing a class and she has been most generous with her time and thoughts and we had a nice hour-long chat today. I came away from it with several pages of notes. And now I can complete my preparations for that class. The rest will just be execution.

Pretty soon I’ll have two of these classes under control. I’m not sure if I am behind schedule or right on time. It depends on when the thought occur.

I also went downstairs to the classroom I’ll be in this fall to test the equipment and play some videos. I had seven to try and six worked perfectly. The other will too, in time. And, for that, I have time. That class only needs a few supplemental sets of notes and two extra bits of source material before I can call it done. And that’s what the rest of this week will be about.

But if you ask me right now, it’s that other other class that’ll keep me stressed out between now and December. So far, it is just a few pages of notes. Helpful, structurally useful, but hardly complete. Fortunately, I live with, and share a campus office with, a person who knows all about that class. The material I know. The sequence of the class is what I have to wrap my arms around. And being fully prepared is what next week will be about.

When I got home my lovely bride was off riding her bike and doing a run with the tri club. So I set off for a quick evening ride. Just 15 miles to be moving in the breeze. To feel a few raindrops on my skin. To enjoy those brilliant August skies.

This was our basic “You’ve got an hour to ride” route. It’s a simple out-and-back, and there are a few places you can add a loop or two to make an easy 20 miler if you like. But let me demonstrate to you what I’ve been complaining about, when I’ve lately been complaining about the wind.

When I headed out, NNW, I get to the next little crossroads town and there are two flag poles. Flag poles, hold flags, of course, and flags are useful for telling a story. On the way out, I passed two flags that said “right-to-left crosswind.” And a reasonable one, too, these flags were on full display, and that wasn’t surprising because I had been experiencing for 18 minutes. When I came back reversing my course and on my way home, 12 minutes later, the first flag said “left-to-right crosswind.” The other said “headwind.”

Look how close together these flagpoles are!

I’m hardly an expert in this, but Strava tells me I’ve passed by that spot, at least going one way, 48 times. So I know a little bit. And it doesn’t take a northern European or a meteorologist to look behind that fire station and see that the background doesn’t change between in that short a distance, 269 feet!

But the wind surely can.

We’ve been on an animal cracker kick lately, and I’ve noticed that we somehow purchased the generative AI version of animals. These are the animals from Pandora, better known to the Na’vi, than us.

And if they aren’t “James Cameron Presents: Animal Crackers” just which planet are these mutant animal crackers from?