Another year older and yes, deeper in debt. Fortunately, there’s no company store to sell my soul to. Not only is it my birthday today, but I’ve seen three new signs of spring: 1) The wasps and yellowjackets are swarming everywhere, 2) the dandelions are now in full bloom and 3) the ants are trying to move indoors. Oh yeah, and there was a plethora of mouse carcasses left at the back door by the cats this week. Very springy!
Quick question: How is funding troops and offering to pull them out of a conflict where they are both unwanted and a further cause of conflict considered not supporting the troops? I would think putting them in harm’s way for vaguely-defined and fluid reasons for extended tours in a country where they are unwanted and vetoing their funding would be not supporting the troops. Okay, enough politics. Well, almost enough. Please, please, please let us hear the phrase of career death: “You’re doing a heckuva job, Gonzie!”
As threatened promised, here are pictures. Jennie really needs to work on cleaning this place occasionally.
And I need to quit playing with my Sawzall.
By the end of the day, we were all ready for martinis.
Fortunately, the boy-child holds his liquor well . . .
*** Note to paranoid and annoying uptight people: No, the boy-child did not actually consume an alcoholic beverage. Get off my friggin’ back, please.
Ugh. Halfway through the week and all I have to show for it is a 9 square foot hole in my bathroom wall and a big mess. My wife’s starting to get a bit stressed knowing that come Monday I’ll most likely be called out of town for a month or two and she would rather I finish my remodel job first. The pressure! Hey, no worries: I’ve got plenty of plywood to cover the hole. Who needs windows anyway? And yes, I have pictures of the destruction.
I feel sorry for the Sears repairman, I really do. He’s here about once every two months to clean out the filter on our dishwasher. I could do it myself if they’d just supply a manual that shows how to disassemble the thing. Or Sears could supply a dishwasher that doesn’t require that you wash the dishes by hand before running them through the dishwasher. Per the literature, using a dishwasher is supposed to be simple, time-saving and, because it uses less water than washing by hand, environmentally friendly. How exactly do I save water if I have to wash by hand, then wash again using the dishwasher? Come to think of it, how does that save time?
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A whole week ahead of me with no travel or work! I got in yesterday afternoon at 3pm and haven’t really done much since.
Tomorrow I start on Spring Madness, which in my case involves mowing and mulching and pruning and all sorts of other fun around-the-house and in-the dirt work. I’ve shut off my cell phone and plan on not turning it back on until the following Monday at 8:30 a.m.. I think it’s time to celebrate my laziness with a nice long nap.
Can you guess where I am now? The airport? Wow, you’re good. Stuck in SFO, lousy Portland weather delaying my flight. I want to go home. I want to take a nap. I want the customer service line at Alaska Airlines to open up so I can scream at them about my MVP status. Yes, I’m petty. It was a beautiful sunny day here yesterday, and a beautiful rainy day today. If I can keep my eyes open, I’m going to watch the rain. Unfortunately, that may not be an option — I’m tired!
I don’t ever want to live here again, but there was definitely a certain excitement driving from the airport to my hotel. It was cool but comfortable. I think it’s the Pacific. I felt it as we landed, when I opened my eyes, looked out the window and saw we were skimming over the bay. It came back again while driving from the airport to the hotel as we hit the stretch of 101 just before Candlestick (or whatever bs name they now have for it) Park. Still, that was enough to open my senses, take me from exhaustion to excitement and curiosity. I am an ocean boy and even the poor third cousin that is San Francisco bay brings back feelings I haven’t had for a while. Idaho is beautiful, but I miss the ocean. I miss the smell of salt air and fish-whiz, or whatever the combination is that you just can’t get by tossing some kosher salt in a pot of water. More precisely, I’m a Pacific Ocean boy. 2.5 weeks in Manhattan, Easter on Long Island, those had no affect on me. Knowing the Pacific is just beyond that bay, just over the ridge? Wow! I’m stuck in yet another hotel, but for the time being, I feel like I am home.
Wow — what a fancy hotel: douche bonnets and a scale so that I can watch my weight go up up up. Yay! I didn’t get my free tickets, by the way.
Yay! And look at this, happy shampoo!
Where’s the angry conditioner and the morose shampoo? I don’t know if I can use my bathroom for anything other than bathing; the toilet paper’s just too pretty in its little pink bow!
I’m definitely back in the west. Gargoyles give way to cow skulls.
What else? Well, assuming I am still with the Borg, I may be heading to either Ottawa or Germany shortly. Could be fun. Much more pleasant than Bogota. Oh well, nothing to do but watch some Futurama.
Two and a half weeks on-site, two days home and back on the road again. My days may be limited, but I will do my best and do as told. Tomorrow is a proserv event, today a travel day. I spent the morning proving a “bug” was just misconfiguration on the part of the customer. It’s an exciting life, the life of a V-proserv consultant.
I should be boarding now. Per the Alaska Airlines web site, I am an MVP member. Per the folks at the gate, I’m just a regular slob. Not the greatest customer service. Maybe it’s time to quit flying Alaska and cancel my credit card. On Monday I was a first class passenger. Seat 4D, should you be flying flight 0007 from Newark to Seattle, sucks by the way. The cushion has worn down, so you sit with a bar across your butt unless you slouch. Not the most comfortable of choices. I slouched.
Interesting. Washington now limits the number of drinks per person. No more side shots — bartenders can only serve one drink at a time. Bummer. That’s going to cut down on drunken stupidity. Oh well. As long as it doesn’t turn violent, I enjoy watching drunken stupidity. Once again, oh well. Next?
Failure to communicate:
I’ve now made it as far as Seattle and just traded in my boarding pass for a later flight and a free round-trip ticket. I am such a freebie whore. Still no word as to whether they actually need me. Boarding has begun, so hopefully they’ll call me soon to let me know whether they need me or not. I really don’t feel like spending the night in Sea-Tac over miscommunication.
Once again, I have several entries written down somewhere on yellow notepads, but no idea where I tossed the pads. Grrr . . . okay, time to move on. Yes, I am finally home, and willing to show the awesome power of the “Army of Bun.”
Supreme commander:
The troops:
I’m so pretty . . .
Aerial view:
My conversion to the Dark Side is complete. I watched my wife go over and scoffed at her, how easily-led she was, how willing to lock herself in to a predetermined path. Then came Vally, showing me the power and ease of using the dark side. I liked my freedom, [...]
I went to sleep last night with the warmth of August and awoke to a cold house and a day of bright skies and bitter winds. That, and the piles of freshly-fallen redwood leaves tells me that summer left with Vally and fall is upon us. Goodbye, summer. Goodbye, Vally. [...]
the wedding party’s gone and all that remains is an arch, a tent and a billion tiny grains of sandy beach and footprints fading in the wind
Today’s invasive terror brought to you by the colour yellow.
Saturday is my day for quiet reflection and self-aggrandizing pomposity. Saturday is the day I ask the Big Questions. Why am I here?* Have I led a good life?** Where the hell did I leave my book? Seriously, where is my book?
This is but one of several heads mounted along the walls of my grandfather’s house. They used to scare the hell out of me when I was younger.
Poor Aaron has a love/hate relationship with sheep: He loves the way they taste, but hates the way they always want to trample him into dust. So with that in mind, here is his exciting 2006 Mutton Bustin’ ride. All 5 seconds or so of it.
The goldfish is dying. He quit eating on Friday, and has been swimming sideways since Saturday. I can see him gasping, but beyond providing a quick and (hopefully) painless death, have nothing I could do for him. Poor little guy. It would be kinder to end his life now, but [...]
Okay, twenty more minutes to the Rapture. Have you made arrangements for your pets yet? I think I’m going to sit this one out, thanks. The kids and I have decided that watching Dr. Who is more exciting.
Okay, I’m hiding this image before it gives my viewer (viewers?) siezures.
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