Glory Days

The contract came, and I signed it. I particularly like these phrases: "employment with X University as a tenure track faculty member.... Your rank will be assistant professor...."

I don't know why I'm still being cagey about school names. Anyone who has read the blog could figure it out. I guess maybe I'm hoping to avoid anyone googling the school name and somehow accessing my blog. To be honest, I don't even know if that's possible.

I have a month left of the semester and much to do. Hubbie's semester finishes earlier, so he will be flying down in a couple of weeks to visit his folks. We'd heard via e-mail yesterday that his sister-in-law is hospitalized with pneumonia, so I am hoping his visit won't result in another month of illness for him. The last time we were there, he got a cold, bronchitis, sinus infection, something. It lasted for a couple of weeks, got better, then returned for another two-week infestation.

On the way to school yesterday, I was listening to Springsteen's song "Glory Days." Maybe one of the benefits of high school having been reasonably miserable for me is that I don't look back at that time as "the best of my life." If anything, after high school, there was nowhere to go but up. I'm really glad that I didn't stay in LaSalle Parish, fulfilling the high school yearbook's prediction of a future as a bar maid. (I doubt that would have been my future even if I'd stayed, but all too often, the closer a person stays to the home town, the less elevated are the hopes and dreams that person has for him/herself.)

Anyway, my new camera came yesterday, and I'm eager to figure it out. I'd like to add more of my own photos to my blog, but the camera and image storage system that my husband has developed means that I have to get him to go through the digital images unloaded from his camera onto his computer and then email the image to me. It's about time I got to select my own images without bothering him. So here I am, not very techie at all, and I think hubbie expects that I won't be able to manage it without him. He's likely right. But who knows? Maybe I've got a few more "glory days" in me yet. I might be able to learn how to do it without relying on him. (I suspect that that is what he fears. He likes to be needed.) Onward! Dr. S.