So, what's the story about the pretzels?

It's nice to be back in Madison where I have people my own age to do things with. Yesterday Pearljenn and I spent a goodly amount of time at the Terrace dodging sparrows and plotting the next Brewer trip. Around quarter to four, we went to the SLIS library to visit our Management friends and offer an invite to join us. Since we had no takers, we bussed over to the Great Dane.

It was fairly empty, and the music was nostalgic: "End of the Road," "That's the Way Love Goes," "Ditty," "Linger," "Whatta Man...." It felt like I was at Peaches, a bowling alley turned underage dance club on summer Sunday nights. It closed in 1994, to my dismay, and just around the time I was gaining nerve to ask one of the wrestlers to slow dance. I almost did it one night, to "I Swear." Regardless, I flashed back at the Dane. We also ordered tasty pretzels that came with cranberry mustard. Zesty. The original intent of the trip was to try their seasonal watermelon wheat beer, but I didn't like the sample, so I had Crop Circle instead.

Today I get contacts and return to the reference desk after a nearly two week hiatus. I have to see what they've done to my desk while I was out.