Dinner date with a Professor

I have been working for one of my past law professor's for the past 9 months or so. A friend and I were painstakingly editing his book, and just finished the work about two weeks ago. As a reward for our hard work, this professor decided to take us out.

So last night, the three of us met up for dinner and a Timberwolves game. I was a little nervous. At first glance, this Professor and I have absolutely nothing to talk about. I was wraking my brain for "safe" conversation topics as I sat waiting for our little date. I certainly couldn't go into most of my social life. Definitely not the Cowboy Auction of this last weekend. Not particularly interested in sharing details of my family life... Politics was HUGELY off the board, as he has pictures in his office of him with every Republican President since Nixon. I resigned myself to a night of very awkward non-conversation.

Turns out, my cynacism (and that of a few of my friends) was off base. I had a pretty good time at dinner (although the conversation was little centered on the topics of the book we had just finished editing and on faculty tenure procedures) and then the game freakin rocked our socks off! The seats he had treated us to were amazing, and the Timberwolves pulled out a killer victory breaking the Sun's long wining streak. It was quite the game to be at, and I was thankful for the generosity of the professor.

There was a moment however when I wondered:
"You think he knows I'm checking out the guy sitting in front of us?"

Oh, and to those wondering: we did run out of butter.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"I Don't Feel Like Dancin'" Scissor Sisters,
Ta-Dah!