Snowy Fair Isle, Tweed, and Corduroy Thursday. . .

A chilly, damp Thursday of meetings on campus to learn more about how we might integrate artificial intelligence into our teaching and learning practices plus a few meetings with students, who have only now (the end of Week 13) chosen to worry about -- and attempt to renegotiate -- previous project grades.

Keep in mind, next week, Week 14, is very short due to the US Thanksgiving holiday weekend, which on the calendar is four days. For many students, that has morphed into 10-14 days, and they simply are not around. Once we return, it is Week 15, courses end on Friday, December 6th, and Finals Week follows that. After which, the university, in all its wisdom, leans on us to evaluate everything quickly, tally course grades, and post those through the online system used by the Registrar's Office.

The final weeks of any semester are a real gallop filled with every possible reason why people wouldn't, couldn't, didn't, or shouldn't have to do X, Y, or Z. Jeeze Louise. One thing I have learned in almost 30 years of teaching undergraduates in one form or another is this. It is always someone else's fault, and the well of excuses is bottomless.

Sigh. But onto more interesting things.

Attire-wise, I added a long tweed overcoat, a long wool (original) J. Peterman regimental scarf given to me by my late mother around 3o years ago and a lovely houndstooth tweed cap that my wife gave me two or three Christmases back. Depending on one's frame of reference, I resemble either Bertie, Tuppy, and Bingo, doing their level best to avoid the affections of Madeline Bassett, James Herriot crossing the Yorkshire Dales, The Doctor emerging from his TARDIS, or a minor Harry Potter character lurking around Hogwarts Castle.

In any case, I received three compliments from college-aged people as I went about business on campus, at the bank, and the supermarket on the way home. Clearly women appreciate a presentably dressed man. Even those with Comet-green hair.

As I always say here, compliments are never necessary. We dress for ourselves first and foremost (or should). But it's nice when someone shares a kind word or two about your attire.

Sadly, our first snow of the season melted already by midday, but it was very pretty for a while early this morning. Hopefully an indicator of the winter yet to come?

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Comments

Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan. Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake. J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville. A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended. But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available. In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination. I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall. I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation. Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold. Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario. But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh. Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan. Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt. Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode. However, I was not completely useless yesterday! I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch. The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings, took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific. I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age. As it is, my sister and

Classic Style

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