paul·a·ver

I dreamt I was studying Saul Bellow in a literature class at an improbable college in an impossible time. I met the instructor outside the building, both of us rushing in late for lecture. He was at least ten years my junior, a first-year assistant professor, visiting, or term faculty with one well-placed journal article deconstructing the politics of contemporary video games. He wore curly, shoulder-length black hair, a white oxford shirt, and jeans. I hadn’t read the assignment, and I smiled, knowing he hadn’t either.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a Step It Up Action to stepitup2007.org, and I’d be happy to have local friends come out and join me on the trail.

A few weeks ago, I had lunch with Jenn’s friend Brian, who starts today thru-hiking the AT.

“Watching the snow melt,” I heard my sister-in-law, Barb, tell Jenn over the phone on our way home from Papa John’s Cardinal stadium.

“What?” Jenn asked, her pitch rising.

“We had 8 inches of snow earlier this week, but it’s almost 50 now.” Barb lives in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, one of those Midwestern towns where spring weather can easily make it seem like January or July in March and April.