By lex, on August 10th, 2008
It is probably not true, as it no doubt may appear in time, that your correspondent is at heart a cheap screw when it comes to the article of supporting professional sports in his home town of these last seven years. The fact that I have only gone to Padres’ games when comped to the owner’s box should not be read as any expression of amour-propre, but rather the gracious acquiescence of the charitable instant. Kindly accepting someone else’s kindness, like.
By lex, on July 30th, 2008
Work of course, and billable hours. Enough about that. CrossFit called for a 15k run today. That’s 9.3 miles, and totally out of the question for a Clydesdale like your correspondent. I nevertheless determined to grind out 6 miles or so, just for the calorie burn that was in it.
By lex, on October 25th, 2007
Been a bit at sixes and sevens lately, catching up on work – the boss was right, it didn’t go anywhere – and not having much time or frankly enthusiasm for buckling on the old armor and wading back into the fray.
Took the motorcycle to work yesterday and today, thinking that traffic might be tangled but I guess there are still too many folks hunkered down or straggling back to make the usual morning knife fight worth the candle. We’re pretty much at half-staff here on base, which realization made those who had shown up to work rather sulky. I thought I’d sneak off an hour early or so, which thought apparently came to the rest of us since the traffic leaving the island was slowed to a standstill. That’s when owning a motorcycle really comes in handy. Some folks seem to resent it when you lane split up to the stop light – I guess it’s that whole “fairness versus freedom” thing, writ small.
The Kat is a smart kid – the other day when I was walking around taking photographs of all our earthlies before we bugged out she sussed out the purpose right away: “For the insurance, right?” Right she was, too. I discovered afterwards that she had taken some pictures of her own – her equestrian competition ribbons.
Could’ve made room for those. Made room for those logbooks.
The kids had never seen my office before spending the night on its floor, and I think they got a kick out of it. The Biscuit sat at my desk and then spun around to see… herself. I’ve got pictures of the three of them there behind my desk to remind me of the important things. A fact I don’t know that they suspected. I think they we’re privately pleased even though the girls made a show of giving each other a hard time, saying that the other’s picture was not a particularly good representation, sorry.
I think they’re all beautiful.
Seems hard that the east county folks have gotten hit so hard, while those of us closer to the coast have once again dodged the bullet. In the nature of things in San Diego County you can either pay a very great deal of money to live cheek-by-jowl with neighbors you rarely speak to by the coast or pay a very great deal less for the same sized squat to move inland a bit. If you’re not Rancho Santa Fe wealthy but like the lifestyle you can even move up into the hills and spread out a bit – land and a rambler. Being away from the ocean, it’s hotter there in the summer time, and the I-15 rush hour traffic makes the Five look like child’s play. But without being cheap, it’s certainly a good deal cheaper.
At least until the fires come.
Back To The Index
By lex, on October 23rd, 2007
Ensconced ourselves – rather informally, from the standpoint of military regulation – at my working digs, the place being otherwise vacant what with orders keeping all but “critical personnel” at home. Our boss told us the work wasn’t going anywhere, take care of family – good man himself.
By lex, on May 20th, 2007
Friday was spent ostensibly working on my thesis, if by “working” you can so enlarge your definition to include “staring slack-jawed at the screen, desperately seeking inspiration.” It didn’t help that an old squadron mate that had left the service a few years back and is waders-deep in his own start-up invited me to lunch last week, for to pitch an entrepreneurial opportunity that included the post-retirement intersection of Making Real Money with the potential of pushing Su-27 Flankers ** around, just for the business that was in it – no master’s required. There never was a sailor who had wax sufficient to stop that particular siren’s song from leaking through, but on the other hand I remind myself that having spent the better part of the last two years squandering the diminishing remainders of my misspent youth in systems engineering, marketing, financial management and ops analysis classes I am now a mere 80-100 double spaced pages (including bibliography and reference cites) from a free master’s degree, just in case the entrepreneurial spreadsheets don’t quite add up.