• A long time coming

    Which of the following items do not belong:
    1. Lap top computer. 2. Wireless network. 3. All indoor posts to the web site.

    If you picked number three, you’re a winner! (Unless, of course, you’re a Yankee’s fan… then you’re still a loser. Sorry.)

    Well kids, we’re here to fix you up. I’ve got a covered front porch, a bench, and a folding table (courtesy of Cheryl’s car), and they’ve all got your name on it. Well, with a little masking tape, a sharpie, and a suitable fee for the naming rights, they could, you know, have your name on them. You’ll notice I said nothing of the PowerBook. Ain’t no tape goin’ on my baby!

    There’s electricity in the air, and I’m sure it’s from all of the excitement out there, surely it has nothing to do with those grey, threatening clouds out here.

    You know, when you get right down to it, the well of creativity is just as shallow outdoors. So much for the magic of spring.

  • To buy, or NOT to buy, THAT is the question

    Flush with accomplishment from recently achieving her savings goal of $187, plus tax, Beth is contemplating higher plateaus. Suddenly, the kiddy slide isn’t high enough any more. Now, she wants to play with the big boys. That’s right, she wants the 20GB iPod now.

    “But Beth, you don’t have enough music for the 20GB iPod.”

    “So. Someday I might. See right there (pointing to the Apple web site) The iPod mini can only hold 1000 songs. The 20GB iPod can hold 5000 songs. That’s a lot more.”

    “Yeah, but the 20GB iPod only comes in white, you can’t get it in pink.”

    “Oh, well, let me think about it.”

  • Office life on a random spring morning

    Spending most of my morning hours cooped up indoors, despite my office with a view, I find mornings to be more abstract construction than reality. Most of the time, life in an office is rather homogenous. Time of day, week, month, or year, it’s all the same. The scene outside my window slowly shifts, but I rarely associate the view with the barrage of senses being “in it” provides. On those rare occasions when the sight of a clear spring morning tickles my imagination, having a window is a curse. The smell of nature’s spring potpourri is in the air. The last wisps of cool, dry air linger from winter. Walking through chill shadows among the trees, there are sparse hints of warmth shining through the branches, like the sun’s promise of better things to come.

    And then the phone rings, abruptly bringing my mind back indoors. I’ll take a rain check on that promise,