Where's Thomas?

This month marked the beginning of the new job, the new focus on graduate work and the schedule shift that both require. So, after several action-packed weeks of training, we launched the new school year with a gusto last week. As I teach very early --VERY early, and had to be on-campus every day last week for something, the month's gone quickly, and without any new posts.

Thankfully, most of the planet has gone about it's merry business none the worse for wear. In fact, probably only Brian has felt let down by my insensitive blog-silence. Unless my siblings happened by by mistake (auto-complete browser search bar be damned!).

1/2 of Heisenberg's Principle
So, a little visual something to engage, occupy, perhaps entertain and more importantly summarize the last month for you, my small --VERY small, reading public.

I give you, "Where's Thomas?"

This collage is one of two done by the staff at my favorite coffeehouse (Gold Bar!), and include many of their regulars, yours truly too.

Mother Nature's a mean stylist

Just in time to meet my new classmates, students and faculty, it happens...

The Cumulo-nimbus coif
It's "monsoon season" here in the Valley of the Sun, which technically means that the humidity level and dew point (temperature) have met certain criteria for a period of time. Popularly and practically, this means that we have storms most afternoons after the day's heat build up creates tremendous thunderstorms.

I'm familiar with these afternoon "gutterwashers," from growing up in the US Southeast, where summer temperatures were a little lower, but humidity was much higher--adding up to the same kind of predictable weather on summer evenings. In New Orleans, we actually planned meetings to begin before and end well after the 3pm hour, so regular were these drenchings.

I bring this up for more than the fact that these storms are probably the most significant meteorological events in the area. (Remember, a single little stray cloud in our big blue sky any day of the year is enough to have our newscasters prattle on about the "weather" we're having...) No, more than being climate conversation pieces, the storms and the season more generally make my normally rather flat and shapeless hair go wild.

(Here, Brian and others will have emitted some audible expression of their disbelief, to accompany their rolling eyes and observation that my hair can never be accurately described as tame or graceful, under the best circumstances. Many people have commented, in fact, that the South Park Thomas graphic, used as my avatar here, does a good job capturing my 'do's likeness.)

All the hair gets wavy, which is not in itself problematic --though the extra body makes it look uncombed. It's that my bangs turn into a series of half-pipe/sine waves across my forehead, ending in a rather feathered flourish. Atop some more holistically over-the-top bird of paradise, it wouldn't be so bad. But I look (even more) like the follicled love child of many a bad '80s teen celebs.

Thankfully, I have no picture to offer. (I'm even less photophilic in humidity.) So instead, I'll share the photo that explains, definitively, while I H A T E dressing up:

I can't believe I turned out as well as I have.