There are occasions when I want to write about something, but I just can't completely develop an idea or topic. That should be very apparent by reading some of my posts. Today is one of those days where I want to write, but there is no rhyme nor reason to any of the thoughts floating around my head. So in lieu of something coherent, and because my eyes simply won't focus well this morning, some random thoughts resulting from the weekend of March 2-4.
What do you get when you combine Terry Schiavo and $30? A potential licensed driver in Georgia. The driving in town seemed much worse than usual this past weekend. Everyone seemed to have left their brains in the pants pocket of the jeans sitting on their bedroom floor. Maybe it was the full moon, or maybe it was the extra sporting events in town this past weekend.
I heard on the news of a 420 pound woman in California who went to the ER complaining of stomach pains only to find out she was pregnant and in labor. What surprises me more is not that she went full term without knowing, but that someone actually had sex with the woman.
Is Green Acres really the place to be? Farm living is not the life for me.
Tornadoes killed a seven year old girl in Missouri, fifteen people in Alabama, and nine people in Georgia last Thursday. Six people died Friday morning when a bus carrying a college baseball team careened off an overpass in Atlanta. This is not a good time to be in the South.
America's "King of Beers" tastes like piss. Not that I know what piss tastes like, mind you, I'm just making an approximation. Give me a Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat any day.
Will I ever make the time to write about our family trip to Disney World a few days after Christmas?
I did make time on Saturday to head out to the driving range and hit golf balls. Hit the irons pretty well and made some good shots with my 3 wood/iron as well as my pitching wedge. Couldn't hit my driver worth a shit. If only I could slice a turkey as well as I was slicing golf balls that day. There was a golden lab hanging around the driving range, just sitting there, playing coy. As soon as I directed a comment to him he came trotting over, tail wagging, happy that someone was paying attention to him. Damn dog took the golf ball I had just teed up and ran off with it.
A shout out to my former RMI co-workers. You people were great to work with, even if you, for the most part, didn't understand my off-beat sense of humor. It's fun to run into people I used to work with whom I haven't seen in a while. Invariably we get to the "So, what are you doing now" question. When I tell them I manage a department with a seven-digit budget, the usual "wow" reaction says a lot. Hey, I was a lot smarter and capable of more responsibility than my job ten years ago required; I started working at RMI still bearing the wound caused by my father's death, and I just didn't want to be smart or responsible.
Damn...work calls. I like my job, but perhaps it's time for a change. There are a few on campus that will pay me more and with more tasks and responsibility. But I've gotten so comfortable where I'm at. I mean, I have my own office and I get to wear jeans on Fridays, and I'm not about to discipline myself for a dress code infraction.
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