19
Feb 19

You, too, can be a dance hall DJ

I promised you Presidents Hall yesterday. Here is Presidents Hall:

And the view from the front of the room:

Eighteen presidential portraits are on the walls. There’s enough room for a few more presidents. I wonder what they’ll do in 20 or 40 years when they run out of wall space. Anyway, all manner of events — learned expert presentations, luncheons, weddings and, this spring, the nursing school will have graduation ceremonies in there.

Some videos our students are making. This is a late night show. Dry, college humor, unaware central player. It’s a classic formula:

And when you are finished with the season premiere of Not Too Late, there’s also the most recent episode of the Bloomington Breakfast Club. You, too, can learn how to be a DJ:

The setup seemed the hardest part. It was a substantial load-in. And, she said, she spends almost all of her time and money in record stores. Right after tearing her gear down after this interview the DJ, who is a local, was leaving town for a cruise with Kesha. No big deal.

I wish I was going on a cruise. Tampa to the Bahamas in February? That’s not the worst choice one could make.


18
Feb 19

Happy Presidents Day

I had a whole post here, and the computer, or WordPress or the ‘net ate it somehow. I had a Presidents Day joke and everything. So this will be brief and, probably, better. We have a Presidents Hall in our building at work. It is for university presidents, and when you run this place one day, you, too, can have a painting on the wall.

Today it is a giant banquet hall, more square footage than our house. It was once the grand reading room when our building was the university’s library, until 1969 or so. After that our building served in an administrative capacity and the grand reading room it became a testament to modern 1970s office innovation: cubicles.

Saturday, I was at work, this is our “living room.”

I didn’t go into Presidents Hall at all, Saturday or today. I’ll show it to you sometime. Saturday, though, was Direct Admit Day. Some of the fall term’s incoming freshmen sat in our giant “living room.” I put this on Twitter and …

Someone forgot I work here? To be fair, you never know who is running a group account. Maybe they didn’t read my Twitter bio. Or maybe someone thought all of the pre-frosh followed my account. At least there was a retweet. That’s about the extent of it.

Also this chilly weekend:

Today:




More on Twitter, check me out on Instagram and more podcasts on Podbean as well.


15
Feb 19

It goes to four — going to 11 would squish you

So The Yankee got herself a present. (But she also says it is for us. And she did make way so that I could try it, but that ruins the joke of it.) Some 18 months or so after I got her a lower leg manual air compression recovery system she upgraded to a full-legged, machine operated, automatic, systematic, hydromatic, greased lightning recovery system.

She says, “If you need me … you don’t. I’m busy and I’m never leaving this chair.”

But, “I got them for us. We can share,” she said.

That was just after “Would you bring me all the things I need to conduct my life from here?”

But we can both use it, you see. I did get to get it a try. These are my legs:

There are four zones: quads, knees, calves and feet. At first, I did’t think my quads would allow the things to inflate properly, but the calves and the feet segments are impressive. And my knees! That probably isn’t supposed to feel as nice as it did, but it did. There is a small series of programmable choices you can make within the system, and then within the zones you have a choice between four compression levels. Level one is a nice firm embrace. Level four is like a blood pressure cuff applied by an over-anxious nurse on the first day of the job.

I started out with the third level, and was suitably impressed. Risk taker that I am, from the comfort of my own reclining chair in the living room, I bumped that miracle of modern psychotherapeutic and muscular medicine up to four, the highest level, whereby I was sent back in time to the War of 1812.

And I had a bear of a time getting back. It was very difficult to find outlets to plug this device into in 1812, let me tell you.

But, while I was there, I got to try level four. On my feet, you could feel the bones being moved together, which was a curious sensation. It felt nice on the knees, and it was noticeable on my quads. I have large thigh muscles, so I was skeptical, and I was right on that point. But on the calves, you better not be claustrophobic, have nightmares about being crushed or the general state of electrical research in the early 19th century. Oh it’s great fun, or nanty narking, as they said back there in that part of the Victorian Age. But if you want to go all the way up to level four on your calves, you better come mentally prepared.

And it was at this point when I thought, you know, I might not be wearing these boots just right. So a few adjustments were made. And then I could feel it, in the right position these things properly inflated in the quads. It was then that I sent away for all of the things I need to conduct my life from that spot.

I only left to go see this in the studio this morning:


14
Feb 19

A Valentine’s Day with books

Today, at its best, looked like this:

And I am officially ready to move on from the weather.

So we’re to the magazines. We’ve now flipped through two Reader’s Digest, and today we’re continuing our gander at a few of the ads from this third issue, the October 1966 issue. There are five images to check out today. Click the book cover below to jump right in to today’s additions.

If you’d like to check out all of the stuff I’ve posted from my grandfather’s books so far, start here.

And when you’re done there, I made Valentine’s Day puns.




13
Feb 19

He said prolonged eye contact with a bear in the wild

Oh, look, the morning show crew brought back an old favorite game show.

Sure, it is The Dating Game, but local in all of its local glory. Plus college students! I watched them shoot this last week. The original run ended four years ago, at least, which means this particular set of people had never done this show before. They did a pretty nice job with it. And the guests were fun! And tarot!

My favorite part might be the “interesting thing about you.” As ice breakers go, it is a classic. Some are better than others and sometimes the ice breaker itself goes over better than others. I’m always intrigued by the things people say. You’re all interesting and all of us have varied experiences. I’ve no doubt that, given a minute or two, anyone could pull one or two or four notes from the memory banks with which to wow us. Now, the bear thing, from the title, that’s in the video. As interesting facts about a person might go, that’s pretty good. I am always intrigued by how a person arrives on sharing their particular tidbit.

Anyway, one of the station’s managers dug up some old archives of the original Big Red Love. It was a different studio, which was in the basement of a dorm. It featured different production values, a Barkeresque microphone, delightfully awkward interactions and a cubicle wall that “separated” bachelorette from contestants. It was a wonderful college television show. If they brought this new version back and streamlined their production, it would be an even better and more wonderful college television show.

This evening we went for a run on campus. Because hills! Hills are great to run in concept, and I am lousy at it in execution. The Yankee was done with her day a bit earlier, and wanted to go a bit longer than I did. So she started out, looped back and then picked me up. Here we are at the top of the very last hill for the day:

I was four miles in and she was about, or so. I finished with six and she finished at 10. And, also, it was about 30 degrees.

A young woman with flaming red hair passed us earlier in the run. She was so fast I couldn’t figure out if she was saying something encouraging or suggesting we get out of her way. Her voice dopplered very quickly because she was fast. And she had on a little cape. She might have been an actual superhero!

Generally, we avoid amateur nights. In a college town this includes New Years, St. Patrick’s Day and Valentine’s. Part of that might be because we spent so many years not in the same town on Valentine’s Day. (I started counting that and then stopped.) Mostly it is because we generally observe today as the anniversary of us being a couple.

It was a friend group, you see. There were about six of us who were all in the same grad school cohort and then within the group there were the two of us palling around all the time. People, in our group and in the larger cohort and some of our professors too, started thinking of us as a couple. Where there was the one there was the other. And then we realized that’s what people thought and so on and so forth. And that realization came today, 14 years ago. So we celebrate today. And the celebration is typically a low key dinner at the hibachi steakhouse because it is a tradition at this point.

So there we were, at 8 p.m., cleaned up after our run. The local place had two people sitting in the hibachi side of the restaurant. They didn’t look a day over 15 and one of them looked almost exactly like my second-cousin. His wife, I assume they were married, was an over-sharer. A nice couple, but before the man had wheeled out his cart to spin the spatula and pour the sauces and cook for us, we learned they had a 4-year-old. The cart comes out, the cook makes a great deal of noise with his cutlery, cooks the food, does the flaming onion bit, busts out the little squirt joke the restaurant likes so much, cleans everything up and thanks us again and again. As he leaves I said, “So a 4-year-old, huh?”

To which she immediately launched into a 20-minute speech about the dogs, and their territorial habits and, here, check out some pictures. Oh, and finally here’s one of our daughter. Who does she favor?

That’s always a loaded question for some reason or another, of course. We all know that. But she obviously favored the dad, who looks almost perfectly like my second-cousin. Only the kid isn’t his, biologically. And this is an intriguing conversation to be having with someone over fried rice. Oh and she had just had her gall bladder removed and he doesn’t eat anything green and … they were nice, truly.

Also, I can now tell you where to get the best sushi in town, and where you should absolutely not get sushi. No one had asked.

Anyway, in the back of the restaurant, by the restrooms, there’s a door into the kitchen area. And this is on the door:

If it ever said anything other than “Your uniform hangup” then I’m just going to assume it has a story to tell. I guess we’ll just have to keep going back until we figure it out. Oh, darn.