In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990s moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care.
I work hard at my job, but after this weekend, I'm looking forward to returning to work so I can get some rest.
We worked for it this weekend.
TW set a goal of giving the kids a great summer, and she's doing just that.
Between the beach, the pool, the hayride, and the science museum, the kids barely broke a sweat. I'm pretty much done.
Photos taken this weekend include:
- The Boy and The Girl standing under a dinosaur, looking like they're about to be eaten.
- Me posing next to Cro-Magnon man. Tragically, it's the best picture of me in years. I'll have to photoshop it and see if I can make it into some sort of 'before-and-after.' Otherwise, it could be captioned “evolution hit a brick wall with the advent of Suburban Dads.”
- A photo essay by The Boy, starring lumps of horse poop left behind on the hayride trail. Boy plus camera plus horse poop equals big fun!
Ah, for the relative calm of managing tenured faculty in a cash-strapped setting...