A TOASTED BLT

We're baaacccck.

We have returned from break.  Many of us brought with us bronchitis or a cold and a bucket of Dunkin Donuts coffee to jump-start the second semester.  Students beg for schedule changes while teachers beg for a working copy machine.  I was pleasantly surprised to enter my classroom to find a brand new projector and soundbar.  My old SmartBoard is dismantled and removed and I have gained more whiteboard space.  Pretty cool.  It only took me 45 minutes and consultations with two colleagues to figure out how to get the sound to work.  (Take the new black remote and press ON.  In case you are in a similar pickle one day.) 

So after dusting, posting sign up codes for new classes, shifting furniture, catching up with students, creating calendars, answering emails, catching a bus to my mailbox, returning books to the bookroom, making copies, meeting with the Media Center staff, and cracking the mystery to my iTunes U password, I decided to head down for lunch.

A limited menu was offered on this half-day for students.  So I went with the BLT.   I grabbed some napkins and sat down by myself to regroup from the tornado of a morning and I was lucky to have four fun colleagues join me.  One went with a salad, one went with the mac-n-cheese, one went with the buffalo chicken wrap, and Robin, of course, brought his lunch from home.  I bit into my BLT and then peered at the toasted white bread for blood.  Did I just bust open the roof of my mouth?

"That bread looks rather dry," someone commented and laughter ensued.

"Dry?  This is dangerous," I retorted.  So I did what any American would do and I picked the bacon off and had a few pieces of bacon for lunch. This toast could be used as the foundation for an apartment complex.  Someone suggested I throw it at the wall.  So I carefully searched the faculty cafe for administrators and then wound up like Justin Verlander and whipped the toast at the wall. As expected, only a one-inch corner of the toast cracked off upon interfacing with the plaster. There were hardly any crumbs.  It was like my own Mohs scale for toast hardness.  

"See?"  

"Toast to a new year!" Brian quipped.