Blackberry
04-27-06, 06:07 PM
As I looked out of my office window this morning, I could see puffy white clouds dotting a deep blue sky. In the far distance the Blue Ridge Mountains seemed to be whispering my name. Closer at hand, I could see coeds (I work at a university) in shorts and tank tops strolling the campus under the warm morning sun. No coed has looked twice at me in this century, but, thought I, there are other ways to make this perfectly wonderful day memorable.
I decided to go for a bike ride.
I parked my car at Ash Lawn, the beautiful home of and shrine to President James Monroe. I slipped into my cycling garb and, citing my own personal Declaration of Independence, off I went.
I rambled alongside the massive estate of one of America's wealthiest billionaires. While I'm anything but allergic to money (I am married, after all), I felt as wealthy as a king as the road carried me forward among dogwoods, buttercups, Azaleas, and all manner of other flowers I can't begin to name. Later, a wild turkey stared at me from the edge of the woods, as if to say, "why the hell aren't you at work?"
I just laughed, said "fuggetaboutit," and kept on spinning.
Finally, I ended up in Scottsville, a sweet little town town alongside the James River. Since it was pushing 3 pm, the only lunch place open was Pee Wee's Pit Barbecue. Now, don't hold it against me, but I'm not much of a meat eater. In fact, I probably have eaten pork barbecue maybe three times in my life. But since I was playing hooky, I decided today would be the fourth.
To my surprise, the pork barbecue sandwich, piled high with cole slaw, was fan-tastic. I might want to re-think this tofu and bean sprout lifestyle of mine. As I exited, I saw a sign above the door that read, "Nothing smells like Pee Wee's Pits."
And then it was back home--and back to work. By the time I arrived, a colleague said my boss had been looking all over for me.
#$%*(!!!!
I wandered down to his office expecting the worst--but the fates were not to deny me. Today was the day the college rankings came out. Our program expected to be somewhere between 8th and 11th nationally. But--wonder of wonders--we were ranked number two, ahead of some really fantastic schools. He just wanted to give me a high-five!
I'm not sure what the moral of the story is. Maybe I should play hooky more often.
I decided to go for a bike ride.
I parked my car at Ash Lawn, the beautiful home of and shrine to President James Monroe. I slipped into my cycling garb and, citing my own personal Declaration of Independence, off I went.
I rambled alongside the massive estate of one of America's wealthiest billionaires. While I'm anything but allergic to money (I am married, after all), I felt as wealthy as a king as the road carried me forward among dogwoods, buttercups, Azaleas, and all manner of other flowers I can't begin to name. Later, a wild turkey stared at me from the edge of the woods, as if to say, "why the hell aren't you at work?"
I just laughed, said "fuggetaboutit," and kept on spinning.
Finally, I ended up in Scottsville, a sweet little town town alongside the James River. Since it was pushing 3 pm, the only lunch place open was Pee Wee's Pit Barbecue. Now, don't hold it against me, but I'm not much of a meat eater. In fact, I probably have eaten pork barbecue maybe three times in my life. But since I was playing hooky, I decided today would be the fourth.
To my surprise, the pork barbecue sandwich, piled high with cole slaw, was fan-tastic. I might want to re-think this tofu and bean sprout lifestyle of mine. As I exited, I saw a sign above the door that read, "Nothing smells like Pee Wee's Pits."
And then it was back home--and back to work. By the time I arrived, a colleague said my boss had been looking all over for me.
#$%*(!!!!
I wandered down to his office expecting the worst--but the fates were not to deny me. Today was the day the college rankings came out. Our program expected to be somewhere between 8th and 11th nationally. But--wonder of wonders--we were ranked number two, ahead of some really fantastic schools. He just wanted to give me a high-five!
I'm not sure what the moral of the story is. Maybe I should play hooky more often.