Last night was the benefit to help pay for our friends' bills, and hopefully to endow a scholarship for students in need in his field. The evening included a silent auction with lots of interesting stuff and services. Some of the best cooks in the area offered meals, others deserts. Bottles of wine, handmade quilts, and so forth were on the block.
My favorites, though, were things that seemed regional: One renowned gardener offered to come and plant a load of daffodil and tulip bulbs. Someone who's well-known for sounding like a horny female turkey offered a morning of calling. I sort of wanted to get that and have him call at high noon in the university mall, but as he pointed out, he'd have been overwhelmed by turkeys in the area (from the administration building). And someone who's known for making great venison sausage and such offered to process a deer.
Now, I don't hunt. I don't object to other people hunting responsibly (the folks I know who hunt seem respectful and responsible), but I have no urge to shoot anything.
But I do like venison.
My newly retired colleague who loves to hunt was there, and I was telling him that if X had offered some venison sausage, I'd have bid, but I wasn't going to go hunting. X said that he had plenty of venison at home, but had a tag, and would be happy to try to get a deer for me for the processing if I wanted to bid.
So I bid.
Then I was outbid! I heard about it and went to look, learning that my newly retired colleague had agreed to hunt for another colleague (Y) if she won, too!
So Y and I decided to collude and share the deer if we won and our retired colleague shoots one. So much for our bidding competition, eh?
Now it looks like Y and I are going to get ourselves a serious stock of venison. Anyone want to come over sometime this winter for a chili feed?
On Friday, one of my students had a bright red face. She didn't look good, but I didn't want to comment, because the likelihood of my stuffing my foot deep down my throat is just too high. She kept rubbing her face with her hands, the way you do when you're really tired and trying to get the sleep out. But after collecting the quiz, I went to hand her the essay assignment to pass along, and she refused, saying she couldn't pass to others because she might have pink eye.
Um, I said, you just handed me your quiz, no?
She just laughed and said, oops.
Want to bet that I washed my hands before going back to my office?
I'm so not going to be happy if I'm sick when I go to do that presentation next week.