Quo Vado?

I’m having one of those days. As I type, somewhere over Georgia/Alabama/Lousianna I find myself without the four copies of the one document I needed for todays site visit and - even worse - completely run out of paper reading material. What am I going to do when the steward instructs me to stow Hawkins in his original secure position? How am I going to get my PDF plotted in a town I’ve never been to before? Or maybe I have, but don’t remember it.

My brain continues it’s impersonation of me today. Yesterday after driving to and from Columbia I spent two and a half hours in the office catching up on phone calls and emails - waiting for Bossman to finish the details that I needed for this trip. Which I left behind - how good is life?

We’re landing now, so I have to stow my only diversion.

Today I passed a Norfolk Southern truck with an “I STOP FOR TRAINS” bumper sticker. I got a good grin out of that.

After the disastrous visit I made to the Columbia project ten days ago, I was happy to see that the contractor had finally addressed almost all of the issues we’ve been discussing since April. It turns out that guy who almost clocked me during my first visit, was afraid to walk the buildings with me today - apparently I’m scarier than I thought.

I’m eating lunch at the bar this afternoon because the wait for a table looked long. All I can say is that for as much as the bartender has gone from behind the bar to the back of the house is that it’s a good thing that he’s not that tall. The whole ducking under the bar to move from behind it looks like an invitation to head bonking from here. I’m looking forward to lunch. I ordered a genuine - two slices of bread and two meat - club sandwich. I’m still debating over desert.

Gravity and I have an interesting relationship. In addition to doing the job of keeping things, including me, on the ground, gravity also helps make my ‘special skill’ remarkable. I’m good at falling and dropping things in spectacularly amusing ways. From tripping, then flying, after catching a trailing toe on a single step to the teetering, then crashing ‘one last thing’ I had to decide to carry I provide visual amusement to everyday folk. Now these feats don’t occur every day, but they dog the back of my mind every time I look down.

Stairs occasionally freak me out because I’m so conscience of how momentum and gravity can combine, but the rarely used ladder has become lingeringly problematic again. My quads are once again giving me fits to the point where moving from sitting to standing and vise versa induce pain reactions in both legs. The good news is that the gravity that paints dark colors in my existence lent a helping ‘hand’ today. I made it out of bed without pain by lifted my toes toward the ceiling and then allowing gravity to swing them to the floor. Luckily, my torso moved to vertical with my legs and I used the momentum to finish moving to a standing position.

So, the next time I give gravity grief there should be a little voice of dissension in my head reminding me that I find it useful more often that I acknowledge.

So, there’s been alot of silence here lately - as I said above the work is killing and every time I turn around I’m out of town for some reason or another. By the time I make it back into the office on Wednesday (Monday and Tuesday I’ll be in Columbia and Baton Rouge respectively) I’ll have had paid out of office time for five of the last ten business days. I haven’t really had a chance to get work done.

Worse than the trips all over the eastern US, are the double sided comments made by everyone from random artichokes to Bossman about getting stuff done but not killing myself over the pile of crap I have to do. Really boys, when the two things are mentioned in the same breath, only the first idea sticks. I wasted three hours of my time Friday making a site visit that I knew didn’t need to be made, for which the contractor knew they weren’t ready just to appease a artichoke. There’s a ton of details that need to be added to a structure after the basic timber framing is placed before it’s helpful for me to walk. When the contractor tells you they’re not ready, for Pete’s - and all the other work you’d like me to get done - sake listen to them.

I recently offered up my services as a reviewer for Studio 60 to one of the television sites that was looking for someone to review it. My offer was declined. I don’t have any hard feelings though. I love writing reviews - and probably bore any regular readers to the point of skipping them - but, the time think kind of bothered me. That, and I read through some reviews on the site in question and realized they were more recaps than reviews. I try hard not give too much away, yet still provide some kind of comentary on the events. After reading through the most recent posts I’m not sure I succeed all that well. Oh, well, I’ll continue to write them.

In other news, MPC is about to hit 64k so I took her in to be serviced. Luckily this time around she only needed a new filter and some oil. Tires will be on the plate soon, but I’ve been working way too many hours as of late to be overly concerned by that news. Espically given how many work miles I’ve accrued. Granted the meer three miles two and from the closest artichokes office doesn’t add up to a large chunk of mileage reimbersables, but the day trips to Columbia and Montgomery have covered the cost of four new tires.

Collecting things is part of what I do. Some women collect purses, some collect shoes, some collect purses and shoes - I collect small pieces of luggage. Backpacks, messenger bags, totes you name it I probably have a piece (or six) of luggage in that style. This August brought out the Lands’ End kids catalogue and I fell in love with a backpack. Thursday was my first plane ride with the new backpack. The boot tote hooked nicely onto the backpack - it balanced out much better for carrying even if I did end up looking like a dork. I like the new backpack - it rides much more comfortably over my shoulders than my older backpack. While I’d rather not travel with a twenty pound bag, the comforts of home are worth it.

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth. - Benjamin Disraeli

• Why does a automated tram car need windsheild wipers? Does it really need too look out the window?
• Why in my right mind did I have Greek food for dinner last night? I enjoy it, but always end up paying more for it than I anticipated.
• Why do I read every sign as I pass it?
• Why can’t I get on board with light-gage steel? It’s a great building material, but I hate designing for it.
• Why was I so happy to see corn growing in New Jersey?

So I’m sitting in a Panera somewhere in Jersey. I have no clue as to where I am - all I know is that I hope my colon likes this meal better than the last one I gave it. I’ve written full blog posts in my head but haven’t the time to write and keep company the guy who made this trip with me.

A couple of weeks ago a big evening storm rolled across the condo complex and the busy body who lives in the unit just forward from where I live had a tree branch fall on her car. The branch did some damage to her car. The poor tree was cut down for it’s sins.

I’m used to finding odd things in the fridge, but today I found cultured peach flavored milk. Who in their right - or left mind - would drink peach flavored milk. I know that it’s not all the different from ice cream, but the idea of drinking peach milk just kind of curdles the stomach.

I don’t know why I’m awake this time of day, I just know that I don’t yet want to go to bed. I know getting up in the morning is a reality. I know that something better than five hours of sleep would be good. I know that I really should go to bed.

“People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they’re not on your road doesn’t mean they’ve gotten lost.” -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

I waited as long as I could before I dug into Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip. I’ve been following the news as it came along, occasionally moaning when something goofy happened and then celebrating as the powers that be corrected the goofiness. In an odd display of self-restraint, I didn’t read the leaked script nor did I seek out the ‘leaked’ electronic copies of the pilot. I waited until Netflix dropped the first episode in my mailbox before I dropped too far into the Studio 60 world.

The Brief: The new Aaron Sorkin, Tommy! Schlamme! hour long drama about the ‘five minutes’ before and after the camera roles on a twenty year old sketch comedy show. (Additional thoughts below the fold.)

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