Through a series of mistakes and miscalculations, I ended up missing my bus and had to drive my car in to school this morning and park it on one of the university parking ramps.   Thursdays are my crap days anyway -- I usually arrive on campus around 8am and have back-to-back-to-back obligations until after 6pm.  And just so you know, it is nearly impossible to plan, pack, and lug around the amount of food a day of this length requires.

Today, however, would be even longer -- I caught a poetry slam that lasted until after 7. (It was AWESOME, by the way.  I'm attending a free writing workshop they're putting on tomorrow at the library.) I actually had a short break just before their performance, and I wanted to go home and get some dinner...except that it would cost me $15 duckets to get my car out of the ramp!  Screw that!   They stop monitoring the ramp at midnight -- then I can get the damn car out for free.

But to stay until midnight, I'd still need to go home to get the power pack for my laptop and workout clothes.  So I took the bus home anyway, gathered up all my stuff, and then caught the next bus back to campus.  Despite my ambitions to be productive, I am dead on my feet nonetheless.  I have no desire to exercise, so I'm counting the 30-minute walk to and from the bus stop as my workout.   Actually, being on foot in the cold night air was peacefully invigorating, if that's possible. Though it had "cold and lonely" written all over it, I really enjoyed waiting for the bus alone in the dark. 

The walk across campus to the student union was also pretty fantastic -- though I nearly froze my fingers off to get a photo of the capitol building that even approached being in focus.  Worth it, anyway.

But now, despite drinking down a large coffee, I can barely keep my eyes open except to look longingly at my car, trapped on the third level of the parking ramp for another hour and a half.


I wanna go home and go to bed!

...said my office mate when I told her I took my time walking back to our office after lecture so I could take some pictures down by the river.


Bridge over the Iowa River

Danforth Chapel

Old State Capitol

I think the best evidence that I can be happy anywhere is the fact that I love Iowa in the winter.  So much, in fact, that I started wishing for snow at the end of September this season.  The first winter I was here was apparently the worst in about a decade -- bitterly cold, lots of ice.  I was fine.  My definition of "cold" certainly got revised, but I adapted well.  I learned how to strategize my snow removal -- mostly to suck it up and clear some away mid-storm so it would be a little easier the next time I'd have leave the house on a schedule.  I also discovered the peculiar comfort that the sound of snow plows in the wee hours of night/morning brings.

Right now a snow storm is dumping 5-9 inches of snow on us.  I was leaving downtown this afternoon when it started coming down in big, fluffy flakes -- my favorite!  The next thing I knew, I found myself down by the train station, so I fired off a few pictures.

I thought the brick apartment building across the street from the station was especially pretty in the snow.  I can only imagine those are also some fantastic sittin' porches in the summer, too.  I'll miss those evenings sipping on tall, sweaty glasses of iced tea and air thick with humidity and fireflies.  *sigh*

I love Iowa.