You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2007.
A grown man blushing from the neck up after saying, “Fuck no”.
Seeing a herd of deer lope away, white tails in the air.
The full moon casting shadows on freshly fallen snow.
Driving in a white out, heart racing, praying you won’t run off the road but enjoying the wicked beauty of it all.
Getting reassigned, reorged, and a new boss all in the same day.
Lavender bubble bath.
A very ambitious co-worker scrambling for your territory.
Enjoying a well performed Books on Tape.
A heartfelt hug.
Laughing as something tickled your fancy.
Realizing that getting reassigned, reorged, and new boss isn’t all that bad.
Ciao
Just the other day, I read an outage report and realized I had caused it. Funny thing was no one had contacted me to yell or fuss or make me write reports. None of the inevitable questions that insult your intelligence and make management feel they are in control. It was a pretty major outage and my stomach flipped over. I knew a shit storm was a’brewing. I just knew it. But 24 hours later all was quiet.
Here’s the point: If no one can pin the blame on you and by keeping your mouth shut, the outage is just chalked up to sun spots and the vagaries of computers, what would you do?
Most people, if they knew they wouldn’t get caught, would do just about anything. I know we all like to tell ourselves that we would stick to the moral high-ground. We would make it right and come forward. We revile and spit upon people who don’t confess or run away. We pat ourselves on the back knowing that we would speak out, break up a fight, call 911 on some mother with a little child loose in the car, and of course always help the police. But I think that it’s just the fear of getting caught that motivates people…
I wonder. If you knew there would be no repercussions would you tell your boss what happened. Knowing that it’s raise time and you just cost the company money? Knowingly put yourself in front of an oncoming bus?
Think about it…
Ciao
Looking out my office window, I just looked down on a red-tailed hawk gliding by. Better looking then the vultures I see almost daily.
Ciao
I shouted, “The Guys are here, hon. Get dressed.”
If you ever wander back through my little blog of diatribes, you might notice that I started this when we started our house building. Well at least when we actually bought land not the 7 year odyssey that it took to get there. We became proud owners in Dec ’05. Not much has gone wrong with the house. A few mechanical difficulties which were promptly fixed by “the Guys”.
“The Guys” would show up after a call and eat our food, drink coffee, and generally be loud fixer-uppers of stuff. Nothing was too small or too big. Fixed and off they would go. I often wish my SO had their talents. Sigh… All he did was rip the spigot off the side of the house with the lawn mower..
Well its time for our 1 year walk-thru and due to the vagaries of scheduling they appeared this morning and are eating our food, drinking coffee, and are quietly banging around the house fixing nail pops, cracks, leaks, etc. Over the next few days, I’ll get to see all “the Guys” who we worked with to build our home.
People delighted in telling us how bad our experience would be and to tell the truth, it wasn’t so bad. Sure we had our arguments, discussions. But those mainly were me and the SO trying to find tile, colors, cabinets, and lights. Early on we determined we would move no load-bearing walls, not re-arrange the kitchen for the umpteenth time, or change our minds half-way thru anything major like tile work. Every horror story we heard seemed to come from those three with a healthy dose of (you guessed it) lack of communications.
We would make a choice and for better-or-worse stick with it. The Builder knew his stuff and we have a very beautiful solidly built house.
Guess what I’m trying to say is “the Guys” can come over anytime and eat our food, drink coffee, and bang around the place.
Ciao
I just saw the ultimate comb over. A pony tail. I had to stop myself from staring. I was like a deer in the headlights. Oh my god! You could see how each strand was pulled back and then slicked in place. Wow the time and the artistry… hehehe…
Ciao
Thoughts of an Old Fart 