I started reading Donna Tartt's The Little Friend.
Today was the first time I've been back in the collection at McWane since March 12, 2020. That's 516 days NOT at the museum, or one year, four months, and twenty-nine days. It was only a short visit. I was dropping off some stuff I'd borrowed and picking up some material I need for research I'm doing now. Oh, and taking some photographs of basal Mooreville Chalk tylosaurines for Mike Polcyn (actually, Kathryn took the photos). Which meant getting to spend time in the collection, and that made it, probably, the best day I've had since March 12, 2021. Once we see when (or if) the delta variant is gonna level off or start dropping in Alabama, I'm gonna start going back in regularly again. But there's no telling how long that will be. We spent some time just talking to Jun Ebersole, which was great. I visited with the main Winifred block, which languishes. I was let in a back way, so there was virtually no contact with visitors. It was as safe as a visit to McWane could possibly be. There's a photo below.
I was giddy.
Also, I'm rocking that dirty, old hippy look with my COVID-19 hair, the weight loss, and those ill-fitting jeans that I haven't washed since I rebuilt the compressor on the ancient Gravermeister (circa 1987)*.
After I got home, there was a long talk with Mike about tylosaurs and mosasaur taxonomy.
I had peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches for dinner, and then Kathryn and I watched a creepy documentary on Hulu, Missing 411, about children who have gone missing in US National Parks. When Les Stroud gets freaked out, so do I.
A good day, kittens. I was due one of those.
Later Tater Beans,
* That is, the Gravermeister is from 1987, not that the jeans have been dirty that...oh, fuck it. Also, if you see my ass, tell it to come home. I miss it.