Slalom

Wish I Had Brought Some Fish

Hello, I Must Be Going

How To Be Happy

Maybe they like Styx too

Phone being held out, music in the backgound:

"I'm at a Foreigner concert with your parents!"

More indiscernable music in the background.

"I know you're jealous!"

Voice mail from my 28 year old nephew, currently visiting my parents.

I guess I'll hear the story tomorrow.

Yes, that would be a good day

Online conversation last night with a pilot friend:

Me: What's the best thing that happened to you today?
Him: I made an equal number of take offs and landings.

Alert the Media

A student I recently enrolled writes a column for a small local paper. For this month's column, he chose to write about starting college at the age of 57. He wrote that he plans to continue his education until he has his doctorate at 65. Pretty cool, huh?

He also chose to write about the "beautiful lady" who enrolled him, and how great she was.

It's nice to be recognized and appreciated. Duh. Of course it is. Who doesn't like being recognized and / or appreciated? (Some capricorns seem to be able to live without it as long as they are acheiving world domination, but that's neither here nor there...)

I once read an article in a business magazine about 'Orchid letters' vs 'Onion letters'. Onion letters are the nastygrams people enjoy writing when they are petulant / pissed off/ not made the center of the universe / whatever. Far fewer letters of gratitude get sent. I hope I won't succumb to laziness,as I have in the past,the next time I'm motivated to write an orchid letter. I hope you won't either- especially if you're writing it about me.

Leaving

Educe

Asleep

That would be you. Not me.

Happy 2:23 AM.

I think there's a giant can of sugar-free Red Bull in my tomorrow.

Yes, I've tried everything to be able to sleep. I've tried Ambien several times over the years. If you ever receive an email from me that is unfathomably weird and ends in LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL, that's me on Ambien. If you walk into my kitchen in the morning and find a colander full of half-cooked spaghetti - which I have no recollection of making- that's me on Ambien. What would I do next on Ambien? It would likely be something freakish and wrong at 3 AM. It certainly wouldn't be sleep.

I may be lucky enough to fall asleep in the next hour. Then I get to get up 3 1/2 hours later. Good times.

Repreive

Friday morning lasted about 14 hours. Too long a week, too much pressure, too little sleep, and too stupidly hot outside.

Thankfully, right as I was going into bouncing off the walls, regailing everyone with dubiously funny stories mode, a repreive was given in the form of Pita Pit (baba ganoush and tziki as condiments? Hell yes) and a fountain.

Aaaaaahhhh. Fouuuuuntain. I love fountains. I especially love fountains on 90 degree days. I love them even more when someone gets the great idea that we should put our feet in the water while eating our sandwiches. I love them most of all when someone (that would be me) suggests we have the whole fountain to play in. And play we do.

Here are some fun pictures of my coworkers. The first one is Loni after successfully ducking under all three arcs of water (I made it through the first two. Yes there are pictures, but not here):

Not a Fan

I have four fans in my apartment. They're great for blowing around the hot air and making my home sound like LaGuardia.

Busy is Good

Twelve hour day today. Will be working Saturday too. I don't mind.

In planning Adam's memorial I've reconnected with two close friends from Denver. The friendships came back to life instantly, despite an 11 year absence. It's wonderful to have them back in my life.

Happy that everyone else in Tacoma hated the 95 degree day as much as I did. I'd rather be in my air conditioned office than in my indian sweat lodge of an apartment.
I could hold bikram yoga classes here.

Mock Three Times

There's something unnerving about walking into a Las Vegas hotel lobby at midnight and seeing some 60-ish guy in a tux singing Knock Three Times and wondering why anyone would choose to cover a Tony Orlando and Dawn song, then looking closer and seeing that it actually is Tony Orlando, and he's gyrating on a little circular stage, looking like a zoo exhibit.

This could be either funny or sad. I went with funny, and walked away snickering.

I know, I'm mean.

122

I went on a little vacation this weekend. My first stop was Laughlin, Nevada where it was 122 degrees. If you say "But it's a dry heat..." I'll deduct 20 points from your IQ.



122 degrees is fun as a new experience. However, it doesn't take long to feel one has had enough of such an experience. My friend suggested we head for a higher, cooler elevation, so I got the unexpected surprise of getting to spend the night in the kingdom of Sedona.

And no, it's not a village, town, or city. It's a kingdom.

Strand in the place where you live

Strawberry blonde. So mandated William, stylist and Mensa member, when I asked his suggestion for my most flattering hair color.

I'd walked into Sublime on my way home from work. I've been there before. When I asked for a consultation the receptionist said "I think we have someone you may be happy with. I know you've tried several others here..." Her tone implied I'd tried their patience as well.

William went to work and was thrilled with his results. "You look like an Irish lass!" he crowed. A neurotic, Jewish, not-happy-to-be-strawberry blonde Irish lass maybe.

When I got my hair cut at a different salon two weeks later, I decided to go for some highlights. A few blonde streaks to break up the strawberry monochrome.

Somewhere around the 150th foil, I fell asleep. Apres blow dry, microstrands of strawberry remained. The rest was bleachy blonde.

I'm going to go medium golden blonde. For anyone indulging their inner bimbo (or himbo) in this post, I want to be about a level 8. My natural blonde is about a 7. I could have just done it myself.

I so wish all my worries were this silly.

Evoke

Minimalism

Van Gogh Sky

Starts with an R