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You know how sometimes you have major stuff going on but you can't talk about it and therefore it's impossible to talk about anything? I'm going to try anyway.
I'm in the middle of an excellent history book, The Path Between the Seas: The Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914 by David McCullough. The first attempt to build the canal is pretty much a classic story of how things can go catastrophically wrong with lots of people watching. I'm not yet up to the second attempt, which appears to have worked out a bit better.
Reading something with intellectual merit has prompted me to watch a lot more crap on TV. Kelly is somewhat predictably appalled. I think TiVo should make a version of their software that supports multiple viewers. That way, her CSI episodes and my reality TV fixes could be stashed in separate directories and what we didn't know wouldn't hurt us. Maybe I'll write them a letter.
We had our last softball game of the season last night. Kelly came along and almost had to play because we were short a few players. Fortunately, we got a quorum so she was able to sit on the bench and gossip, which is much more her style. Our regular pitcher was absent, so we had to use a few people who had not pitched in a long time. I played a few innings at catcher and a few at second. It's hard to catch for someone who is having a miserable time on the mound because there's not much you can do to help out. We lost, but it was a close game.
My wishful theory that nobody would want me to come out to the suburbs for a job interview during the Democratic National Convention has been proven wrong. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but I have no idea how long it's going to take me to get there so I'll probably be an hour early.
Kelly asked me to figure out what to make for dinner tonight. For some reason, warm weather pretty much saps my interest in food, so I think it's going to be peanut butter sandwiches.
I'm in the middle of an excellent history book, The Path Between the Seas: The Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914 by David McCullough. The first attempt to build the canal is pretty much a classic story of how things can go catastrophically wrong with lots of people watching. I'm not yet up to the second attempt, which appears to have worked out a bit better.
Reading something with intellectual merit has prompted me to watch a lot more crap on TV. Kelly is somewhat predictably appalled. I think TiVo should make a version of their software that supports multiple viewers. That way, her CSI episodes and my reality TV fixes could be stashed in separate directories and what we didn't know wouldn't hurt us. Maybe I'll write them a letter.
We had our last softball game of the season last night. Kelly came along and almost had to play because we were short a few players. Fortunately, we got a quorum so she was able to sit on the bench and gossip, which is much more her style. Our regular pitcher was absent, so we had to use a few people who had not pitched in a long time. I played a few innings at catcher and a few at second. It's hard to catch for someone who is having a miserable time on the mound because there's not much you can do to help out. We lost, but it was a close game.
My wishful theory that nobody would want me to come out to the suburbs for a job interview during the Democratic National Convention has been proven wrong. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but I have no idea how long it's going to take me to get there so I'll probably be an hour early.
Kelly asked me to figure out what to make for dinner tonight. For some reason, warm weather pretty much saps my interest in food, so I think it's going to be peanut butter sandwiches.
