I should have been grading.
But I took students through the Met show at the National Museum. Nature in the Western Tradition or something along those lines. It's interesting how the big URBAN museum's seem to believe they have the corner on the nature market. Anyway four students showed up of the sixteen who said they were coming--one of whom called five times starting after the meeting time for step by step instructions to find the museum the entrance, the other entrance, the gallery, the show, the group. But when by myself I saw old friends like Kensett, Wyant, Cole, Durand, Hartley, and made new friends of a Redon, a Barye, and some French Art Nouveau fabric and Art Deco sculpture. It brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. Really. So plenty of virtue there, not to mention biking there and back.
But I had dinner Saturday Night with my friends Sarah and Rob at the Veggie Table. It was virtuous because I biked there, shared what was basically vegan meze, and mint tea, and biked home and resumed grading. Of course it was only one paper before I fell asleep. Wonderful, wide-ranging conversation with them as always. I am the age of their parents. Yikes.
Then yesterday I had another wonderful lunch and conversation at Peter Pan (Italian) with my colleague Kathryn and her husband Bob. A bottle of Chianti (split three ways), pesto and salad were virtuous enough. And we didn't have dessert. Unless you count three Irish coffees. Which I don't. I biked home more slowly than I biked over. And in my Beijing haze--internal and external--watched Vicky Christina Barcelona which can't be all that memorable as I didn't remember I'd already seen it until Penelope Cruz showed up. Now she's memorable. I watched it as I couldn't grade while impaired. The haze--internal--cleared by around bed time. Unfortunately, that's when it occurred to me that Irish Coffee is, um, coffee. Which has caffeine. Which still hasn't worn off. Which is not great news as I leave for Spain in about forty eight hours. Hence Vicky Christina and so on.
So Qing Ming. I swept no tombs (it's the rough equivalent of Memorial Day in China with no parades and heavy family investment in tidying up the family plots, or family tumuli, and baiju in place of beer) and I used my time to accomplish grading, though never enough. Note to self: Self, assign less writing and make fewer promises
But I took students through the Met show at the National Museum. Nature in the Western Tradition or something along those lines. It's interesting how the big URBAN museum's seem to believe they have the corner on the nature market. Anyway four students showed up of the sixteen who said they were coming--one of whom called five times starting after the meeting time for step by step instructions to find the museum the entrance, the other entrance, the gallery, the show, the group. But when by myself I saw old friends like Kensett, Wyant, Cole, Durand, Hartley, and made new friends of a Redon, a Barye, and some French Art Nouveau fabric and Art Deco sculpture. It brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. Really. So plenty of virtue there, not to mention biking there and back.
But I had dinner Saturday Night with my friends Sarah and Rob at the Veggie Table. It was virtuous because I biked there, shared what was basically vegan meze, and mint tea, and biked home and resumed grading. Of course it was only one paper before I fell asleep. Wonderful, wide-ranging conversation with them as always. I am the age of their parents. Yikes.
Then yesterday I had another wonderful lunch and conversation at Peter Pan (Italian) with my colleague Kathryn and her husband Bob. A bottle of Chianti (split three ways), pesto and salad were virtuous enough. And we didn't have dessert. Unless you count three Irish coffees. Which I don't. I biked home more slowly than I biked over. And in my Beijing haze--internal and external--watched Vicky Christina Barcelona which can't be all that memorable as I didn't remember I'd already seen it until Penelope Cruz showed up. Now she's memorable. I watched it as I couldn't grade while impaired. The haze--internal--cleared by around bed time. Unfortunately, that's when it occurred to me that Irish Coffee is, um, coffee. Which has caffeine. Which still hasn't worn off. Which is not great news as I leave for Spain in about forty eight hours. Hence Vicky Christina and so on.
So Qing Ming. I swept no tombs (it's the rough equivalent of Memorial Day in China with no parades and heavy family investment in tidying up the family plots, or family tumuli, and baiju in place of beer) and I used my time to accomplish grading, though never enough. Note to self: Self, assign less writing and make fewer promises
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