The Man and Camel Ceased to Sing

We saw Connecticut College in bright daylight, not dismal downpour like the first time last Spring. It's a beautiful, compact campus. Planet has a friend who's a freshman, so she took a student's eye tour with him while Earthgirl and I walked the paths of the college's arboretum. Apparently New England's summer was a drought and the leaves are dull versus the usual New England fabulous, but the arboretum was still beautiful, and if I was a Conn College student, I know where I'd be studying whenever the weather is warm.

Bowdoin, not as pretty as Conn College in sunlight much less in a downpour like Friday, Planet interviewing for more than an hour with an actual admissions officer, versus Conn College in brilliant sunshine on a perfect fall day, Planet interviewing for twenty awkward minutes with some ditzy senior?

Bowdoin, which can choose any student it wants, goes to greater effort in making prospective students (and their parents) feel wanted than Conn College, which makes its profit on the kids Bowdoin rejects. Of all the ways I find metaphors to celebrate my complicity, and I find them everywhere, including this paragraph, this is the best stinger I've discovered since the last one and until the next.

Links, poem, music at the NEW PLACE.

I believe I've succeeded at pissing off everyone sufficiently that neither place are being read, but if you're Kind and so inclined, please adjust your bookmarks, blogrolls, and/or readers to the new place. I recognize it's a pain-in-the-ass, and thank you accordingly.