Two-meat Tuesday, part one.
Explaining BBQ to the world?
New day/New fish.
Unrelated (but worthy of note):
A short entry about the bastion of publications in Texas.
Unrelated Shakespeare quote:
I was working on an upcoming scope. A November scope. I pulled a quote that echoed the current times.
“The heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive.”
Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (II.ii.138-9)
Yes, it’ll be at the top of some future horoscope, but I liked it as a touchstone for today.
In the news:
> Liberal arts graduates, as a whole, still occupy the lower rungs of the pay
> scale, but are now earning $30,212, a 3.7 percent year-over-year increase.
>
> Starting pay for English majors rose to $31,113, up 8.1 percent; political
> science majors got a 3.6 percent increase to $32,296. Psychology majors
> enjoyed a 2 percent increase with entry-level salaries averaging $28,230.
Isn’t it bad enough that CBS bought a pack of lies and published it? Now this, from a supposedly a reputable source. Lies, all lies. Us English majors don’t make anything close that kind of money. I remember getting the degree, and I recall, the harsh reality of it, months later, when I was forced to work for a living. The horror of it all. And no, this gig doesn’t pay anything near that.
Walking notes:
Did a killer 8-miler, plus a dip in the cold creek – Barton Creek – plus back and forth across the pedestrian bridge several times, which, all told, probably added up to a lot more than 8 miles, but some facts I tend not to stretch.
I kept worrying about the clouds. When I hit the 7-mile marker, the most eastern portion of the trail (Pleasant Valley), I was really looking forward to a dip in the creek, and I was marking where the fishes were. In my mind, I was cackling to myself, “I’ll get you my pretties!” Already had filled the quota for the day, but still.
I noticed that a line of clouds, dark clouds, or clouds with dark underbellies, was creeping up from the direction of Houston. I was wondering if I would get rained on, throughout the afternoon’s trek. Made it to the creek. Made it to BBQ. Made it to a coffee (Leo & Taurus) place for an afternoon libation. Scooped up the mail. Got within 100 meters of home when the sky drizzled a bit.
Then, after a moment’s thought, right after the rain failed to really rain, I grabbed a pole, and hooked it down to the waterline. Beginning casts were in the wrong direction, but one landed where it was supposed to, and I got some interest. Then, next cast, got a big fish. In the dusk, it was too dark for picture, so she’s back with her brethren, happy with a slightly sore jaw. Damn big fish, too. I look forward to seeing that one again.
The Leo barista, downtown, asked me about astrology, like, “Is everyone the same, only 12 kinds of people?” I don’t have facile answers. The Taurus, flipping this over to another sign and another barista, was studying psychology, and she was curious about why I asked her birthday.
“You know, some people blame their parents, me? I can blame the stars, but after all, I am a professional.”
What’s worse, I’ve got an early reading Wednesday morning, and I’m wondering, “Who scheduled this thing at 9 AM?”
Oh, that’s right, I did.
