By lex, on October 7th, 2006
So the Hobbit and your correspondent had a very merry this morning, running all about town: We broke our fast in a lovely little cafe run by an Chaldean Iraqi immigrant over in Fairbanks Ranch, before dropping the Kat off at the barn. No lesson today – no time for a lesson, what with a football game to cheer for at 1600 – but enough time to hack ponies, offer instruction, point out errors, etc for those only coming up in the “Pony Jumpers” class, mere tyros that they are no matter their trust fund balances and with no first place ribbons, the poor, piteous things.
Which reminds me: One of these days when I can scrape thirty or forty minutes together, I’ll put up a link to one of the high-speed, low drag events that a 12-year old can get herself into, rip-roaring around the dirt above several hundred pounds of imperfect understanding in front of a speechless father’s appalled eyes.
Which, by the way: There’s a business opportunity in that somewhere for a motivated entrepreneur. People of my age have more disposable income than they have time, and there are any number of long and lovely shots of Timmy at the lacrosse game, Susan playing soccer, Evan at his Bar Mitzvah, etc, etc languishing in digital limbo all on account of the fact that while pops could spare the time to take the video, he could not manufacture the time to edit and assemble it. To the man who can buy a couple big Mac G5s with some scalable storage arrays, rent a garage, hire a high school video/film student to work them, pay said student slave wages (I guess there’s room to negotiate on that, but, you know: Red in tooth and claw, etc) and offer up to the many several thousand people who have bought digital devices, and who want to digitize their analogue memories but who can’t, between managing a two-income family, find any actual time to do those things, well: The world is your oyster. I’m picturing a collaborative on-line environment. DVD’s for the grandparents, DVD’s for the football scouts. It’s out there, waiting to be made.
Look at this. I’m giving it away.
Anyway, having dropped the Kat off, we went down to Balboa Naval Hospital, herself to get a shot that she needs and get some bloodwork done, because none of us are getting any younger, are we?
No. We are not.
And myself, while there, to avail of the opportunity of visiting someone who needs a visit every now and again, and for whom – nothing more being appropriate to reveal – a little faithful intercession with the Big Guy could do no harm, if it does ya fine, and I’m asking it as a favor.
Quite apart from the thing of which we have recently spoke, and of which no new thing has yet come to hand, your scribe is imminently off to the Arabian Gulf for a time. It will not be a terribly long time, measured as it will be in weeks, for I’m to do a certain set of things, both ashore and at sea, that being my natural element, or at least, it’s as natural an element as I gets these days, the footless halls of air being denied to me now that the keys to fighter jets have been passed down to younger men, the ingrate bastards that they are.
So as the Hobbit and I were talking of my upcoming visit to the region, and her concerns, what with Ramadan being in full swing, the eternally inflamed Arab street, etc, etc, I had to reply:
“Ah, c’mon, love. What’s the worst that could possible happen?”
Didn’t we laugh? And laugh and laugh and laugh!
So, anyway, posting might be intermittent over the next few weeks. Forgive me in advance.