a fork, for now

It's probably telling that when I went to compose this post, Chrome refused to autofill Blogger. Either Chrome thinks Blogger is totes 2008, or maybe it's just been that long.

It has been that long. The post below here is about the great ice storm of 2014, the one that grounded flights and canceled school twice in two weeks and made my entire semester a little wonky, but fine, and now it's nearly the end of May and I have been off school since the 10th. The end of our third year at this school brought some interesting developments, all them good, and anyway, here we are, headed into our fourth year here when we thought it would be just an eleven-month pit stop. Oh, life, you wacky bastard.

Which leads me to this little blog, the one that started during my last year in Minnesota and carried me through Wisconsin and Michigan and three years of Georgia. It's not the first blog I had--oh ho, that one, the one in which I bitched publicly about all the things you are not supposed to bitch about on the internet, like my grad school colleagues and my students, ho ho, OH, OLSON, YOU GENIUS--but hey, 2004 was such a heady time, and there was no Facebook with its privacy settings and no Instagram, which is all I actually want from social media anyway, just photos. And now I am not so interested in telling you all about the places where work is up--that's what the web site is for--nor I am super interested in narrating recent photos. It's been eight years here, and while nothing is going away or being boxed up, it's time to put a fork in it. For now.

So I'll be in other corners of the internet, and I'll be doing what I do, which is growing some plants and taking pictures of my feet and writing poems about William Taft and making a big mess in the kitchen. I'll come back here now and again, like to do the year in photo review, and you can find me in other places, the links to which I have thoughtfully littered in the graf above, and we shall see each other when we see each other.

You look very nice today, and I hope you are doing well. Me, I feel just fine. See you around.



p.s. to answer the question that I think no one's ever asked: it stands for Dead Bitches Don't Say No!, which is what the super-crazy girl who lived in our basement apartment in Mankato, Minnesota, in 2006 wrote all over the wall, in permanent marker, the week before she moved out.

You're welcome.