It’s been a nice weekend so far — made all the nicer by the fact that I have tomorrow off, too.

Yesterday we went to Pat and Heidi’s house for a barbecue/Tour de France/Live 8 party. It was nice to spend time with friends.

Today, we went to the farmers’ market. We came home with blueberry scones, milk, blueberries, carrots, tomatoes, apricots, haricots verts, cherry jam, and flowers. Most of the blueberries are already gone — I think they’re the crack of the fruit world.

The rest of the day we spent cleaning up the apartment. That spring cleaning Rudi and I have been mulling for months finally got done (at least mostly).

Tonight, my folks arrived. They’ve come down to see the Mets game with us tomorrow at RFK and the fireworks on the Mall tomorrow night. We’re going to try to catch the Smithsonian Folklife Festival, too, tomorrow morning, but that may not happen.

It’s been a nice weekend so far. I’m hoping tomorrow is just as good.

There’s just something magical about summer thunderstorms. They’re the barbaric yawps of nature — untamed and untranslatable.

Friday was Rebs’ birthday and I let it go by without a call to her or a note here. I left a voicemail yesterday and today I hope to set the posting right here.

Rebs and I met my first year in college. Actually, my roomie, Eri, met her first and then introduced me to her.

Rebs quickly became a good friend. She came home with me at Thanksgiving, was with me the first time I was pulled over by a cop (we had loaded the Tin Can’s trunk too full of laundry to wash and had accidentally disconnected a brake light), and helped us cement friendships with Kim, Jason, and John by arriving early our sophomore year and doing the hard work of getting to know them. The rest of us just coasted along on her coat tails.

Rebs is introspective and steadfast, never forgetting remotely important anniversaries or birthdays. It’s hard to believe I’ve known her for nearly 13 years (wow, we’re old!), but it’s true.

After sticking out an extra year in New England with us, she returned home to her family, her true love, and her mountains in Vancouver, Washington. We rarely get to see her, so she may not think we remember her more often than our infrequent emails or phone calls would lead her to believe. But that’s just not true. I miss her whenever I see a plant I can’t identify, that I know she would know. I miss her on Thanksgiving when she’s not there to join the rest of the family. And I miss her whenever I think of the people who have played major roles in the story of my life but gone on fame in their own shows.

Happy Birthday, Rebs. I hope it was a good one.

“Would you like a free book for your library?”

“How much is it?”

“It’s free.”

“I don’t want to carry it.”

“We can send it to you if you give us your contact information.”

“How much is it if I want you to send it to me?”

“It’s free.”

“No. How much is it if you send it?”

“It’s free.”

“No…”

And so the morning went.

Actually, it was a very productive morning — much better than yesterday. One of our titles will probably be gone by midday tomorrow, which is a good thing. And some of the librarians are very nice and very excited when they finally realize we’re trying to give them quality, useful information for free. And they make up for the ones who pretend I’m invisible and inaudible.

(via KW at bookish)

A member of the Wesleyan alumni email network (fondly known as WesChat) forwarded along a New York Times story by Thomas Friedman that talks about an innovative honor given out by Williams College in Massachusetts. [The story now costs money to read, so I won’t link to it.]

Every year at graduation, in addition to honoring the actual grads and the VIPs, Williams also honors four high school teachers. These teachers are nominated by the graduating seniors to mark the high school teachers who had a profound impact on them. A committee winnows down the nominations and selects who they deem to be the four most inspiring teachers. Each winner gets a $2,000 gift as well as $1,000 for their school, plus the cost of bringing them to Williamstown for graduation weekend.

This story got me thinking about my own high school teachers. Since I do not have to go before a committee, I thought I’d pick the four who inspired me the most from my own high school days: (more…)