I did take some time for fun, though, on Friday, studying for a bit in the library with Dan and then heading down to his place, where the Harrises also were joining us for dinner. Though they left around nine since their young ones were not settling into sleep there, I stuck around and the conversation carried on until midnight. There was a lot of politics in the air, with mostly talk about the primaries, which candidates for which parties and that sort of thing, and our surprise at Edwards' suspending his campaign already when he looked to be in such a position to become a kingmaker in the Democratic party. We also spent a particular amount of time being spent on the question of the candidates and the appointing of judges, and how their judicial inclinations had not really been an issue up to this point. Somehow politics seemed to fill up most of the space: I can recall a few words being invested elsewhere: my and Dan's classes, Amy's business trip the other week, my Mom's retirement party and the move and the nieces, but that was about it. I even did some dissertation work on a pad of paper while the couples were putting their little ones down. I'm not quite sure how that all took us to midnight. We had a very yummy chili and cornbread, and I'll have to get the chili recipe from Dan: it had all sorts of subtle underflavours that I liked, though they all seemed to be from things I didn't like on their own that he'd thrown into the mix.
I'd also had a long talk with Emily the other night, on Gulf Coast construction as her folks finish their "Sandbox" project, doctoral program minutiae and dissertating blues, a bit on the eighteenth century novel, Bryn Mawr traditions, and at the end, some of the literary criticism she'd had me read on Identity Crisis. This made for diverting entertainment as my Thursday migraine-or-whatever-it-was began to fade away.
Wow, that really is quiet. It's been so long since I've been shot at, chased with a truck, trapped in an elevator shaft, or had my home set on fire.* Not that I need to revisit any of those moments, but I really feel like after re-reading what I've written that I ought to conjure up some drama, if just for my heart rate to vary.
* Yes, these are all true incidents.