Author Bores Readers, Most Likely, For Many Reasons Not the Least of Which Is Her Inability to Compose a Snappy Headline

I got a big envelope in the mail from the firm where I'll be working this summer! Little happy dance!

Things are coming along swimmingly for the Gulfport trip. We have the work, lodging, food, funding, and transportation all lined up. We'll be working with the Mississippi Center for Justice in Gulfport, working on projects primarily aimed at housing. We'll monitor eviction proceedings for fairness and do an affordable housing inventory. We also may be involved in a historical restoration project, investigating the history of segregation in the city, gathering oral history, etc. Awesome work. I'm psyched. We are staying in a suite of rooms attached to a Methodist church free of charge, and there's a kitchen for us to use. We received donations from the Dean of our school and from Student Government that should cover all of our transportation and most, if not all, of our food costs. Rock and Roll. We're driving down, leaving March 18 in the morning and returning the following Saturday.

Also, the symposium I'm putting together is moving along well. Hilariously, I thought, the day after I have the whole debacle in the middle school, I find myself leading a meeting with three law school profs about this symposium. They were almost harder to handle than the sixth graders. They just sit there and argue with each other all the time about the nuances of each potential contributor's argument. Fantastic. Anyhoo, we got it together and are now in the process of contacting outstanding legal academics to come speak next fall. This whole situation will be ongoing and probably pretty boring, so I won't be blogging about it much. It's funny, though, because one of the professors who I'm working with to put this thing together is my Con Law prof from last year. He's this super-intellectual type, who never seems to be looking at you even when he's talking to you because he seems to always be working things over in his head. He's the prof that called on me like every day and I swear to God at the end of the year when I saw him in the hall I don't think he had any clue who I was. Well, he knows who I am now, and has even gone out of his way to be kind to me. Yet if I asked him if he remembered calling on me all the time last year, I don't think he'd have a clue what I was talking about.

I'm skipping Biz Ass tomorrow to spend the weekend at G's cabin. It is going to be an excellent and relaxing weekend in spite of the massive amount of studying we plan to do while we're there. G's girlfriend Jessica is doing the cooking--G described the menu today, and M and I could not stop drooling. It is going to be first rate.