Thank goodness, it is finally Friday. This week has felt unusually long—one of those where Friday seemed like it would never arrive—but here it is at last. I’ll be working from home today, which also means I’ll likely sneak in a few loads of laundry between emails and projects. That’s life.
At least it’s supposed to be a beautiful day. Tomorrow promises more sunshine and even better weather, and I’m planning to take full advantage of it. I’ve decided to go hiking around Lake Willoughby, a glacial lake in northern Vermont known for its incredible clarity, chilly waters, and breathtaking scenery. From the pictures I’ve seen, it’s no wonder it’s considered one of the most beautiful lakes in New England.
Looking north from above south shore of Lake Willoughby, with Mount Hor on the left and Mount Pisgah on the right.
I’m looking forward to a day spent in nature—hiking, relaxing, and hopefully finding a quiet spot on the shore to sit in the sun and read. Whether I make a full day of it or just a few hours, I’ll have plenty of water with me, and of course, I won’t forget the sunscreen.
But first, there’s this work-from-home Friday to get through. Hopefully, it will be easy enough, and then I can start the weekend properly.
How are you planning to spend your weekend? Do you have a favorite spot in nature to relax and recharge?
Here’s your Isabella pic of the week, proving once again that she’s the queen of cozy. Half-covered by a blanket and looking absolutely adorable, she’s clearly mastered the fine art of Friday relaxation.
It’s Wednesday, but it doesn’t feel like a Wednesday. Honestly, it feels like it should be later in the week — Thursday at least, maybe even Friday if the universe were kind. All day yesterday, I kept thinking it was already Wednesday. Each time I realized it was still Tuesday, I felt just a little pang of disappointment. And now that it actually is Wednesday, I have a feeling I’ll keep thinking it’s Thursday and end up disappointed all over again.
This week has been dragging, and I can’t quite figure out why. Monday actually flew by because I was deep into a project, and while Tuesday didn’t exactly speed along, it wasn’t bad either — I kept myself busy with several tasks and even made some progress here and there. But now, here we are at the midpoint of the week, and time seems to have slowed to a crawl.
Today promises to be quiet — my boss isn’t in the office, and my other coworker works in a different part of the museum, so I should be left to my own devices. Which is fine by me. If people would just reply to my emails with something more substantial than “I’ll get back to you,” I might even have more to do. As it is, I’m half tempted to start working on my art history post for this week and see where that takes me.
One thing I am looking forward to today is getting back to the gym. I haven’t been able to go for a while because of my back issues, but I’m feeling much better, and I’m actually eager to go back. I miss it — the routine, the focus, even the little aches that remind me I’ve done something good for myself. It will feel good to move again and hopefully pick up where I left off.
There’s a certain appeal to a quiet Wednesday, though. The museum is peaceful when it’s like this — the soft hum of the HVAC, the occasional creak of a door somewhere, the construction of the building across the street, or the shuffle of visitors’ feet in the galleries (if we have any visitors). I can almost imagine I’m in my own little world here, tucked away among the artifacts and exhibits.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could just crawl back into bed and wake up on Friday morning, when I’ll be working from home and closer to the weekend. But, as always, I’ll muddle through today and tomorrow and make the best of it.
If your week has been dragging too, I hope you can find a little bit of calm in the quiet moments — or maybe even a little spark, like a good workout or a kind email, to get you through the rest of the week.
How’s your week going? Does it feel like it’s crawling or flying by for you? What little things help you push through the long days?
I woke up this morning with my back feeling better. Once I got up and started moving around, it did hurt a little — but it’s definitely an improvement over the last few days. No migraine today either, even though it’s supposed to rain this evening. That feels like an accomplishment in itself.
I didn’t sleep particularly well last night, but somehow I still woke up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. I think a good, restful weekend helped. I really took some time to relax, which seems to have made a difference.
There’s never a lot to do at work this time of year. I’ll start making inquiries into speakers for the fall, work on refining some classes, and begin a project on branding for the museum with our communications office at the university. It’s a good time to ease into the week without feeling overwhelmed, and I’m feeling positive about what lies ahead.
I hope it’s a good Monday — for me, and for you too. Let’s make the best of it.
How are you starting your week? Do you have anything you’re looking forward to or working on?
And to my French readers, I wish you a joyful and meaningful Bastille Day — Bonne Fête Nationale!
Last week, I wrote about the back and abdominal pain that had been plaguing me. Thankfully, the abdominal pain has eased up, but the back pain seems to have gotten worse. To top it all off, I managed to sleep oddly last night and woke up at one point because my neck and shoulder were hurting. This morning, they’re still stiff and sore.
I called in sick last Monday, so I’m determined not to do that again today. I don’t want my boss thinking I’m going to make a habit of calling in sick every Monday. Mondays are hard enough — I don’t usually want to go to work on a Monday, but I still show up. Today, though, I really do have a legitimate excuse.
I plan to call my doctor’s office this morning. It’s conveniently just across the street from work — about 30 minutes from my apartment but less than five minutes from the office — so if they can fit me in, at least it won’t be a hassle to get there. Honestly, I just want some relief. I miss going to the gym (and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say).
I also have an appointment for a massage tomorrow afternoon, which I really hope will help loosen things up. At this point, something has got to give.
In the early hours of June 28, 1969, something extraordinary happened on a quiet stretch of Christopher Street in New York City. After years—decades—of police harassment, social invisibility, and the criminalization of queer existence, a group of drag queens, trans women, gay men, and lesbians refused to be silent. When officers raided the Stonewall Inn—a dingy, Mafia-run gay bar in Greenwich Village—the community inside and outside the bar erupted in defiance. What followed were six nights of protest, resistance, and righteous rage. The Stonewall Riots weren’t the beginning of LGBTQ+ activism, but they were the spark that ignited a global fire.
“The First Pride Was a Riot.” That slogan adorns t-shirts, protest signs, and banners today as a reminder that our liberation was not handed to us—it was demanded. It was thrown back in the faces of billy clubs, shouted in the streets, and carved into the consciousness of a country that would rather not have seen us at all. Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, Stormé DeLarverie—names that should be shouted from rooftops—were part of this uprising. They fought not just for acceptance, but for dignity. For survival.
The summer of 1969 marked a turning point. In the year that followed, LGBTQ+ organizations across the U.S. multiplied, and on the anniversary of Stonewall in 1970, the first Pride marches were held in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. These were not corporate-sponsored festivals with rainbow floats. They were loud, political, and unapologetic marches for visibility, safety, and rights.
Stonewall happened in a cultural moment when the world was already in upheaval: the Civil Rights Movement, the Women’s Liberation Movement, and anti-Vietnam War protests were reshaping the American political landscape. The gay rights movement joined that chorus—and for a time, especially into the 1970s, it began to sing with joy and newfound sexual freedom. The 1970s became a decade of exploration and visibility. Gay men in particular embraced a new culture of liberation: discos pulsed with rhythm and energy, bathhouses became places not of shame but of connection, and artists, writers, and activists pushed boundaries in the public eye.
But the joy of that revolution would come under brutal siege in the 1980s with the emergence of the AIDS crisis. As friends and lovers died in staggering numbers, the government remained indifferent, slow, and cruelly silent. The queer community rallied again—not just to mourn, but to fight. Groups like ACT UP and the Gay Men’s Health Crisis forced a reluctant nation to see us, to acknowledge our grief and fury. Stonewall had taught us how to protest. AIDS taught us how to organize for our lives.
And still, here we are.
Today, we celebrate Pride with parades, with community, and yes, with joy—but we cannot forget the riot that began it. Nor can we ignore the threats we continue to face. In this current political climate, with a Republican administration openly hostile to LGBTQ+ rights, we are watching hard-won freedoms come under attack. Trans healthcare, anti-discrimination protections, even the right to teach honest history in schools are being stripped away state by state. Pride is not just a celebration—it is a protest. A defiance. A promise that we will not go back.
The Stonewall Riots were not polished, pretty, or corporatized. They were angry, spontaneous, and necessary. We owe our thanks to those brave souls who threw bricks, linked arms, and stood their ground. And we honor them best not just with rainbows—but with resistance.
So wear that shirt with pride: The First Pride Was a Riot. And remember why.
🏳️🌈⸻🏳️🌈
What does Pride mean to you this year? How do you honor the history while living in the now? Share your reflections in the comments below.
I know that today is usually when I post one of my art history pieces, and I do actually have one written and ready… but I just haven’t had the chance to gather the images for it yet. Honestly, I would have worked on it last night, but I was at the museum working until nearly 9:00 pm, giving tours. By the time I stopped for gas and got home, it was close to 10:00 pm, and I was wiped out.
My throat felt raw from talking loudly for two solid hours (the realities of leading big group tours). I always keep a bottle of water nearby between tours, but I can’t bring one along during the tours themselves—no food or drink allowed inside the museum. So when I finally got home, I was simply too tired to pull together the post.
The tours themselves went well, though! These were high school students visiting as part of a summer camp. One of the groups in particular was fantastic—really engaged, asking great questions, and interacting with me throughout. Of course, not all groups of teenagers are like that (group dynamics are always interesting), but that one made the long evening worthwhile.
I’m still feeling a bit worn out this morning, but I have another regular workday ahead of me. I’ll try to have the art history post ready for tomorrow. Thanks, as always, for reading.
Today, I have an appointment with a new neurologist at Dartmouth. Since my longtime provider at the Headache Clinic moved away, it’s been a bit of a revolving door—they’ve had a hard time finding someone permanent to fill her role. This will be the fourth provider I’ve seen since she left, and while I’m keeping an open mind, it’s hard not to feel a little weary of having to start over again with someone new. That said, there’s a bit of reassurance going in: my primary doctor actually knows this new neurologist personally. They’ve worked together in the past within the same hospital network, and he told me he thinks I’ll like him. I’m holding onto that hope.
This visit is especially important because my migraines have been getting worse over the past few weeks. The Botox injections I receive every few months have worn off, and I can feel the familiar pressure building again. I’m heading back to Dartmouth on Wednesday for my next round of injections, and I’m hoping they bring some relief before things get even more intense.
On a brighter note, I found out that my trainer will still be working with me for two more weeks! He’s transitioning into his new position as assistant manager, but because of some onboarding delays, I get a little more time with him. I’m really glad—our sessions have been such a steady and motivating part of my week, and I’m not quite ready to give them up.
So, here’s to new beginnings (again), to holding out hope for a bit of relief, and to small silver linings where we can find them.
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Wishing you all a good week—full of strength, support, and maybe a little less pain.
Sometimes I just don’t know what to write about. This week has not been particularly exciting—it’s been one of those stretches where the days blur together, marked mainly by their lack of notable events. On top of that, I’ve been dealing with a migraine since Monday. Though it’s better this morning, it’s still lingering, a quiet reminder that it’s not quite ready to leave.
Migraine fog has a way of clouding thoughts and making inspiration especially elusive. It leaves me feeling disconnected, struggling to find the right words or any words at all. I sit down at the keyboard, hoping something will spark—perhaps a memory, a piece of news, or a passing thought that might grow into a meaningful reflection. But today, the page feels particularly daunting in its emptiness, my thoughts muted by the dull haze of discomfort.
Yet, there’s comfort even in admitting the absence of excitement or inspiration. Writing honestly about these quiet, difficult moments feels genuine, relatable. It’s a reminder that life isn’t always about milestones or major events. Sometimes, it’s simply about getting through a dull week or coping with a persistent headache and its accompanying fog.
So today, I’m writing this—acknowledging the quiet, the uneventful, and the struggle to find words through the haze. It’s a small step, but sometimes, that’s enough.
Isabella Pic of the Week: Ever attentive, Isabella is probably pondering life’s great feline mysteries—or perhaps just wondering when I’ll go to bed so I can get up early enough to feed her.
Here we are again—Monday. Somehow it always manages to arrive faster than we expect, doesn’t it?
This morning began the usual way: me standing in front of my closet, staring blankly at the hanging shirts like they might whisper the answer to “What should I wear today?” I finally settled on something practical—comfort matters when you’re spending most of the day alone in the office. Yes, alone. The joy of summer at a university museum means most folks are off on vacation, faculty are scattered to the winds, and students are few and far between. It’s quiet, still, and honestly… kind of blissful. There’s something peaceful about being the only one here. No meetings. No interruptions. Just me and the hum of the air conditioning.
Of course, with summer also comes the slow trickle of tasks. There’s not much to prep, no classes and not many programs to plan, and the daily to-do list is shorter than usual. I can’t say I’m complaining, but it does leave a lot of room for reflection—and daydreaming.
One of those daydreams involves my fitness routine. Today marks the next-to-last session with my trainer, and I’m already thinking about what comes next. Do I keep going in the afternoons, even though I know I’ll be tired from work? (Let’s be honest—not having much to do can sometimes be more exhausting than being busy.) It’s easy to talk myself out of going when I’m dragging by the end of the day. That said, I’ve genuinely enjoyed working out, even if it’s just a 20–30 minute walk on the treadmill. I haven’t quite worked up the courage to use the machines on my own yet, but that’ll need to change next week. Or maybe… maybe I try becoming one of those people who works out before work. I used to do that—twenty years ago—when I had college classes later in the day instead of a full-time job. I’ve always admired folks with the discipline to exercise before the sun’s fully up. Could that be me? We’ll see. I’ve got one more session to decide if I’m ready to trade evenings for early mornings.
Wherever you are this Monday—whether you’re easing into the week or sprinting out of the gate—I hope your weekend brought you some rest, some joy, or at least a good story to tell. Here’s hoping this week treats you kindly, and that you find a few quiet moments of your own, even if you’re not alone in an office.
I’ll be honest, I don’t really care anything about archery, but I do like these pictures. There is just something very sexy about these adult Cupids. (I guess I should say Eros, Cupid’s Roman counterpart, is more often depicted as either an adult or young adult, whereas Cupid is more often depicted as younger.)
Joe
The Closet Professor 