Sometimes you can get what you want

This is Brink Hall, here on the U of I campus. It houses the English and Math departments and is named for former Moscow resident and author Carol Ryrie Brink. She wrote the childrens' book Caddie Woodlawn, which I love. I also love this building.

Ignore the weird stripy distortions, if you see any in this picture.

It's ancient, U-shaped, ridiculously tall and utterly labyrinthine. Miles of identical corridors about sixteen inches wide run down each level, heated by ferocious radiators. Levels and sub-levels and half-levels with unending staircases all through, also identical.

Today was Vandal Friday. It's a preview day for new and potential students. One year ago, as one of those visitors, I eschewed the official tours and conferences with advisers to make my own way around campus and later, build my own schedule online--not without some keyboard-pounding. But that rainy day I prowled the depths of my new home-to-be, this brick behemoth I loved at first sight. I left my coat in one of the many identical bathrooms on a sub-half-level and almost had to give it up for lost. Escher designed Brink Hall.

When I'd visited every level of every wing, and a few I'm not sure actually exist, I found an exit and stumbled out into the light, wondering how much time had passed and if this was my original dimension. The rain had stopped. Across the lawn was a big square newish building with lots of glass. I walked up the hill and in, to find a cafe, where I bought a bottle of strawberry milk and a bagel. I sat in a sunny window and waited for Seri and Ben to finish their meetings with advisers (they're not averse to doing things the proper way) and while I waited, I listened to the bagel-cafe employees chat about Harry Potter books, and thought to myself, I'd like to work here.

And they're even shaped like life preservers

Every weekday for breakfast I grab a bagel I brought home the day before and eat it as I walk to class. At lunchtime I'm at work, so I fix a bagel sandwich or have soup. And a bagel. Sometimes, like now, for an afternoon snack, I eat....you got it. A bagel. And you know what? I'm not tired of them yet.

We bagelfolk at Einstein's wear black t-shirts with little sayings emblazoned on them like, "Happiness is a warm bagel," or "Donuts, shmonuts--Eat a bagel." I am thoroughly on board with this.

Ah, but what about life beyond lunch, you may ask? Well, it's just ducky. I am grateful for every moment. The week after spring break--which was lovely, spent in Newberg mostly--was an intense round of papers to finish and turn in, and papers received back from professors with results ranging from disappointing (but not surprising) to very pleasing. My poetry prof wants to use my craft analysis of B.H. Fairchild's "The Himalayas" as an example for future classes. :)


Yesterday in our window of sunny weather, Ben and I got his Miata out of hibernation--took off the cover, pulled the top down, wiped off the mildew, gassed her up, opened up the throttle, burned out the gunk and blew out the cobwebs. Sunglasses and bill caps. It was a blast.

Three years ago with the Miata in Yachats, Oregon coast.

Then it snowed. Now that's melted, and because that's a repeated pattern around here, Paradise Creek's running juuuust barely under the bridges. A few inches shy of flood stage. Life is exciting, innit?