I can't bear to look at when I last posted to my blog. A year? 8 months? More? Less? It's hard to explain why, when life is so very good here in my new home (Connecticut, USA), the combination of moving house, job, continent, family, office, currency, mortgage, culture, can be so exhausting, time-consuming, and yet at the end of it all, so satisfying. Sacrifices had to be made, and one of them, was my online presence here (wherever "here" is). If I can, I intend to make up for the missing months with a more regular presence. If for no other reason than that I owe it to my past, and to my future, to maintain a record of why coming here is, as the saying goes, better than sliced bread (not that I can eat the stuff, but at least I remember what it was like!).
So... stay tuned. Oh, and download TagNotate on the App Store. Never mind why. Just do it! It's free. And write a review if you can/want. I'd appreciate it. The desktop version is coming out just as soon as we can figure out a workaround to a bug that Apple have yet to fix.
Finally - a rundown of major events in the past year: I'm a year older. Can't get much more major than that... And UConn have agreed to found the Connecticut Institute for Brain and Cognitive Science. Apparently, I'm its Director. But were it not for the vision of my colleagues at UConn, this would not (and could not) have happened. Other news: My apple watch has yet to arrive, my new piano will likely beat it to the front door, and if I don't get consumed by Lyme disease-harboring ticks beforehand, my next academic publication is going to be my best ever! (I continue to believe that the life of an academic cannot get any better if every couple of years or so one can publish something about which one can say that).
Still to come: why I think UK academia has much to learn from (some) US academia, why STOP signs oddly work (uh-oh... it's about time I got a US driving license), and why I love my personal trainer... yes - I do have a personal trainer: She's worth every penny/cent/dollar, and were it not for the fact that my 91 yr-old father got a trainer, I might never have appreciated the merits of this particular form of torture.
Until next time.
