I've been down in San Marcos, south of Austin by about 30 minutes, for work the past two days. Always good to catch up with colleagues and whatnot, and, frankly, it's probably easier getting to the library at Texas State than to my own building every day. The commute is about the same.
This evening Jamie and I had dinner with the lovely Margarita G., a former local, recently returned, and one of the many folks I've met inadvertently through JimD. Lovely person, and I look forward to seeing more of Margarita around town.
Somehow I came home and went down several Google holes, including playing Barba Streisand tunes from YouTube to see how long it would take before Jamie asked me what I was doing. The answer is: 6 songs, and it really took "Papa Can You Hear Me?" from Yentl before she finally started asking questions.
Also, Jamie insisted we listen to some Michael McDonald. Nobody likes warbling along with Michael McDonald like my wife.
This all somehow got wound up in me simultaneously listening to circa 1980 pop sensation Juice Newton when Paul's ladyfriend, Val, posed on Twitter "whatever happened to Juice Newton?"
I'm not sure, but do I remember Juice Newton?