Just getting back from lunch with my friend Lauren, who I haven't seen since my wedding with JZ 17 years ago!

She used to live in my neighborhood and since she freelanced, and I temped and had periodic weekdays off, I could always just call her up and get together for coffee without any planning. And it was so nice. Proximity matters.

But it was just as easy and fun to talk with her as it's always been, plus an added layer of affection. Hung out for three hours and it flew by like nothing.

not-approved-by-Noise Design hammock in a stand

17 years ago! I cannot believe it.

The new gig is kind of stressful, and I guess it shows: my boss stopped by my office on Tuesday and asked, very nicely, "Are you okay? You seem stressed."

Which -- I liked my old boss, but he is an odd duck, and it's been a long time since I had a direct supervisor who actually asked that sort of thing. So that was nice.

Today is the day we celebrate the birth of Gudanov! We are so grateful for you. I sincerely hope that this is a rewarding year. May the stresses of recent years dissipate.

Also birthday wishes for Sean K. He doesn't venture in here often, but often in my thoughts. Updates from him on FB of late have been joyful and for that I am delighted.

Sorry about the stress, Consuela, but helpful to have an understanding boss.

Happy Birthday Gudanov!

Many Happies to both Gud and Sean!

Happy birthdays!

Yesterday I found out that my boss, when he was 18, got cited for drag racing with Mike Tyson. Which is extremely random and yet entirely surprising.

ETA : unsurprising! That should say unsurprising.

Happy birthday, Sean and Gudanov!

Work is stressing me out. Some of it is good—the responsibility for a major, high visibility project. But some of it is not. Maybe the major, high visibility project will impress someone up north and they'll help me out of this humid, kudzu infested hellscape.

But hey, I have a 2-day work week next week, so that'll be nice.

My great-grandparents' home is back on the market.

Jim says he is very sorry, but he cannot buy the property and teleport it here: we would, in fact, have to live in Pennsylvania. I think this is a failure of imagination on his part. LOOK what those heathens did to the kitchen, never mind the bathroom! That price, I could afford to bring in people who knew what they were doing in to put it right, provided I could distract my dad with something shiny to keep him from assuming the general contractor role . . . .

(This is the moment when Bev and Plei and Atropa rush in, sit on me, hide the keyboard and sing the "No More Old Houses" song until I come to my senses.)

The thought of the Seattle peeps saving Parker from herself is going to make me smile all day.