I spoke to Karen last night as she rode in a car with her parents to try out a new restaurant on Water Street, down there among the warehouses on the east side of the Willamette, and our short conversation reminded me that I'm:
They don't recycle down here--at all.
The "heat index" is somewhere north of 105 and is going to stay there for the next four-eight weeks.
I miss my friends.
Tonight, I'm going to see R&J at The Houston Shakespeare Festival, which will be fun--despite the heat and the bugs and the bad rap the production is getting--because I'm enjoying my colleagues, so far. I've met half the class. They're eager to like and be liked and there's just about no pretensiousness among them, yet. We all feel as if this is the eve before a decisive battle, which some of us may not survive.
I'm also going out on a couple of Match.com dates this weekend as a way to get to know (not in the biblical sense, though I'm not above a supine prayer or two) the area. Technology, judiciously employed, does wonders.