I'm back in Madison. I read Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose yesterday on the plane. Good as far as self-styledly highbrow medieval mysteries go, and I was surprised at the end when the answer to the implied question of the title turned out to be "Bud."
Upon returning, I've been catching up on the sleep I did not get on the airplane and trying to tame my inbox. I'm down under 50 messages, but this has been done mostly by clearing out the ones that could be dispatched with easily.
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