Britt's Blog

Viewing this map of emergencies, accidents and disasters is actually surprisingly reassuring. It puts into perspective exactly how much mayhem occurs on a typical day.  Who knew how frequently small airplanes have accidents!  And are earthquakes really that common, or is today just a jittery day on the San Andreas Fault?

I confess to feeling a little vicarious thrill from a disaster to which I have some (happily distant) connection.  I’m unwholesomely delighted to discover a bona fide evacuation-worthy chemical leak just a few miles from Beloit, and to see that the Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant is leaking tritium again. *tsk*

Plus, some kid got bit by a shark in Florida.

Kewl.

I want to:

Start reading a new book, because I just finished one.

Go out in the sunshine and lay in the grass at the park.

Walk all the way around the three-mile loop at the park, which I have never done.

Draw a picture.

Take some photographs.

Start writing a novel.

I need to:

Grade a Physics 102 exam.

Write a lab for Physics 102.

Grade three astronomy research papers.

Work on lectures for next week.

I probably ought to:

Dust.

Figure out what’s stinking up the refrigerator.

Darn a sock, sew a button back on a blazer, and put an iron-on patch on a pair of jeans.

… Just in case you were wondering.

Delightful bite-sized chunks of retro-style futurism, updated daily:

I stumbled across this excellent blog last week and I’m now totally hooked.

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Just a quick update on how amazingly buff I’m becoming while I’m avoiding the actual work of grading research papers.

I’ve been doing a great job of keeping up with my Master Running Plan, increasing my distance at the rate of 5% per week. That’s not too ambitious, although the increase is exponential.
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When a friend of mine heard that I had never read anything by Dan Brown, she excitedly placed a copy of Deception Point in my hands.  In this fast-paced thriller, NASA makes one of the most exciting discoveries of all time in a meteorite buried in Arctic ice.  Of course, I’m going to love it, right?  Riiiiiight.

You have to hand it to Dan Brown; he certainly uses every possible suspense-building trick in the “thriller” genre.  Nearly every chapter ends with an ominous bit of foreshadowing like, “If Rachel knew how long this journey would truly be, she would be even more afraid,” or someone announcing to the other characters some variant of, “You will never believe what I have found,” or someone slipping into unconsciousness, or getting blown up, or getting thrown out of helicopter along with a team of sled dogs. 

And a sled. 

You don’t like it, but it’s not like you can stop consuming it. It’s like popcorn. Stale, greasy, scientifically inaccurate popcorn.

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