So soon i can taste the dew point

In a bit over a week, I leave for my magical trip around the eastern part of the United States. Our trip starts with us driving hard and fast down until we get to the southeast. Atlanta will be the start of our tourism, and from there we will hit the coast and drive north, stopping frequently until we hit New York then back west to home.
I tell this to people who ask and they look at me with that same half-interested look that you come to expect from Minnesotans. Then they ponder your route, their faces screwed up in disgust, and they ask, “You’re going south? In the summer?” “Um, yes…” “You know it gets hot there, right?”
YES, I KNOW IT GETS HOT THERE. It’s summer. It gets hot here, too. We aren’t all igloos and parkas! I know heat. And my car is equipped with air conditioning as are the hotels I am staying at. I am pretty sure that all of the places I have picked to visit are still able to support human life even when the temperature and humidity rise.
I could understand their confusion if I said I was travelling to Jupiter:
“I am going to Jupiter, I am packing extra polo shirts for the trip.”
“Jupiter’s atmosphere would suffocate you if it had the chance to before it crushed you mercilessly in its intense pressure.”
“So I should drink lots of fluids?”
But I am not going to Jupiter. I am going to Washington DC, this great nation’s capitol. I understand it was built on a swamp, making it humid, but you people need to be aware that it was not built in the middle of a toxic sulphur vent. Charleston is muggy, but adequately outfitted with mint juleps and charm. In New York City, I am more concerned with my ability to get around than I am with ambient temperature.
I guess what I am trying to say is, “I am not retarded”. Now if only I could think of a response to “You’re going south? You know they have southerners down there, right?”

Sanitation Issues

I have a new office, one entire wall is windows. Floor to ceiling view of the nicest part of the campus. I really lucked out here. I also have a birdfeeder outside my window so I get to watch little birds eating away at bits of seed. Important observations could be made about the eating habits of birds, or the social hierarchy something or other. But I made another observation here. Birds poop a lot. A whole hell of a lot. They aren’t terribly discreet about this, but they are fast so I don’t think most people notice. I have windows and time and I see things.
It would seem that every time a bird lands, it lifts its tail and shits. This is the life of a bird. Land. Shit. Land. Shit.
It strikes me that the thought cycle of a sparrow must be something like, “Hey my wings aren’t moving, let me evacuate my cloaca. Is that Phil messing with that finch? Are my wings moving? Doesn’t matter, I’ll relieve myself anyway. Do I like seeds? If I poop now, the answer will be yes.”
I am quite possibly the most important naturalist of the 21st century.