I ate reheated leftover lasagna in my office while coping with a listserv meltdown. I sent that mass email all wrong. Oops. Secretarial work is no joke. 


Kindred spirit out of North Carolina at my lunch table! We both opted for the vegetarian offerings even though we’re not vegetarian, we both skipped the salmon because when you walked into the room it smelled overwhelmingly like salmon, we both planned to stay for the post-lunch plenary even though it isn’t relevant to what either of us does for a living. She told a just-long-enough story about a recent institutional conference breakfast that was mostly meats. I refrained, out of deference to the rest of the shop talk, from my extended reflection on the pleasures of institutional catering that is not your own. Maybe I’ll email it to her later, she’d probably like to know.