So how’s this for a great Friday evening: I’m sitting on the couch. To my left, the windows are open because it’s a gorgeous spring evening. Right next to me on the couch, the wife is napping, waiting for the Celtics game. I have a kitchen full of beer and wine left over from my birthday party last week. We have the ingredients ready for dinner, pasta with tomatoes and asparagus, plus some cauliflower poppers. In front of me is my brand new work computer, on which I’ve just installed Launchy, which everyone should install on their Windows machine. It’s similar to Gnome-Do for Linux and Quicksilver for Mac – I’ve been using Gnome-Do for a while and I love it, and wanted something like it for my Windows work machine. And speaking of Linux, my personal laptop is currently downloading and upgrading to the latest version of Ubuntu, Hardy Heron. So, I have sports, food and drink, computer geekishness, and my fabulous wife. I have no idea what more I could possibly want.
Tag: life
Getting back to my life
So I’m back at work after my birthday trip to Paris. There are a ton of pictures here. I haven’t finished uploading them as of right now, but there are about 200 posted, so that should keep you busy. And speaking of busy, I’ve been very busy lately, which is why I haven’t been posting anything. I know it’s the fifth law of the internet or something that anyone who runs a blog non-professionally must periodically go through a slow phase and not post, then apologize and say they were busy. The good blogs don’t do this very often. Anyway, hopefully things are slowing down a little and I can get back to complaining about things. There are certainly things to complain about.
Officially on vacation
This is posted in category “work”, but it really should be posted in “the utter lack of anything resembling work”, because I am totally free this week. Friday was my last day at my old job, and I don’t start the new one until a week from today. So here I am, wide awake at 7:53AM. Some vacation, you say. Well, it is. I’m up now by choice. First, I rarely sleep in anymore, so if I lay in bed until what most would consider a reasonable hour, it would throw off my whole day. Second, I have things to do. I have a novel burning a hole in my head that needs to come out. I’ve planned this one more than anything else I’ve ever written (Although still way less than anyone who writes for a living would have), and I want to get started. Novel Writing Month isn’t getting me any closer to having a novel fit for sending off in search of a publisher, so I’m trying a different technique. So I’m going to start writing as soon as wife gets off to work and out of my hair. Then, later, I have to take the cat to the vet. Then we’re going to check out some day care centers this afternoon, and we have tickets to the Nationals game tonight (Assuming it’s actually done raining). Anyway, big day. And I see my coffee is finished brewing, and the wife is heading out the door, so I’m going to get started on my vacation. Sorry to all of you who have to work today.
Top Three Reasons my Wife is Awesome
There is no question that my wife is awesome. You may think I’m biased, but I assure you that my bias pales in comparison to her awesomeness. Reason #1 that my wife is awesome: She refuses to rest on her laurels. The reasons she is great right now are not necessarily the same as the reasons she was great last year, or will be great next year. For example, earlier in our relationship, she had the opportunity to meet a bunch of my friends from way back all at once. They can be a little intimidating – it’s a big group of people who have known each other a long time, and they’re full of inside jokes and whatnot. Anyway, instead of being intimidated, she jumped right in and made friends. But that’s not on the list now. Reason #2 that my wife is awesome: She’s taking me to Paris for my 30th birthday. She just told me today (Through a little treasure hunt). I can’t wait. She’s wanted to take me for a while. She lived in France for a year or so and speaks fluent French. I’ve never been to France, and can say, “I don’t speak French” in French. But I’m very excited. We’re renting a little efficiency for six nights in late April. It’s right in the middle of everything, and we’re going to see the Rodin museum and the Champs Elysees and we’ll eat baguettes and cheese. Reason #3 that my wife is awesome: She’s pregnant. Yup, about fifteen weeks in. This is our first, and I’m more excited than I’m even going to get close to expressing. I got to see an ultrasound two weeks ago, and just watching my little son or daughter hopping around in there was surreal. Anyway, more to come, but I think I’m going to get off the computer and go hang out with my awesome wife.
Race results updated
A summary of the race is up at Washington Running Report. The two high school kids who ran in shorts and no shirts passed me about a mile in – I was pretty sure they were insane then, and I remain convinced of it now. The results have been updated – 41:07 was my clock time, but 40:38 was my actual chip time. That is, from the time they said, “Go” until the time I crossed the finish was 41:07. But the from the time I crossed the starting line until the time I crossed the finish was 40:38. Crap. Now I have to run another one and get under 40 minutes.
Saint Patrick’s Day 8K
I ran my third race this morning, the Saint Patrick’s Day 8K, right down Pennsylvania Avenue. Mayor Fenty gave us a brief pep talk before the race, and then ran with us. I didn’t actually see him, but he finished well ahead of me, I believe. I’ll let you know when they post the results later this afternoon. I’m pretty happy with my race. I don’t know my exact time, but the race clock was about 41 minutes. Since I didn’t start at the front, my actual time is probably 20 seconds or so less than that. Regardless, my average mile time was under nine minutes for the whole five mile race, which was my goal. Edit: 41:07 was my time. That’s 136/386 in my age group, 25-29. Average mile time of 8:17. And I was 738/4045 total, 565/1834 males. Mayor Fenty ran it in 32:20. The wife took some great pictures, one of which you can see here. The rest of the good ones are all up at Flickr. She is, as they say, a real trooper. Race time temperature was barely above freezing, and the wind chill made it feel like it was about 20 F. I have another race coming up in April, the Race to Stop the Silence. This will be my second time running it. It was my first race ever, last year, although they’ve changed the location. It was downtown on Ohio Drive by the water. Now it’s still on the water, but over in Anacostia. Big downgrade, as far as I can tell. But I think the Cherry Blossoms are the same weekend, so that’s probably why they moved it.
stupid woman at improv
without going into specifics… i feel the need to vent about a particular individual who tried to ruin the night at the improv. _place_holder; my advice to anyone out there who’s attending any stand up routine or other live performance, please resist the desire to talk through the entire show. _place_holder; i think i speak for the majority when i say, we’re not interested in your running commentary or even less interested in whether you think something the comedian said is “so true!” or “so funny!”. _place_holder; we’ll all figure out that you think it’s funny when we hear you laughing.  _place_holder;
cell phone etiquette
if you’re on a crowded bus during rush hour, please do not use that time to test every single one of your cell phone rings to determine which will be the coolest one to use. _place_holder; _place_holder;
and i think the same can be said if you’re on an uncrowded bus. _place_holder; or metro – crowded or uncrowded. _place_holder; in fact, in any public space. _place_holder; and at any time, not just rush hour. _place_holder; _place_holder;
This is a test of the complaint submission system
If this had been a real complaint, the piercing screech you would have heard if your speakers were on would have been followed by a long rant, possibly containing screaming.
Dear Fatty McMiddleseat
You chose the middle seat next to me _place_holder; I know that you chose it because it was the exit row. _place_holder; I saw your 300 pounds of balding business traveler body eyeing that tight 17 inch-wide, 34 inches of seat pitch torture chamber right from the moment you waddled down the aisle.
I was in the window seat. _place_holder; And yes I chose the exit row too. _place_holder; But I chose it because it is the one place on commerical airliners where taller men and women seek refuge from the evil little old ladies who insist on fully reclining their seats directly into our knees. _place_holder; But you, Fatty McMiddleseat, were not tall. _place_holder; 5′ 9″ tops. _place_holder; You were wide. _place_holder; Aisle seats work well for people of your stature, not the exit row. _place_holder;
However, judging by the relatively full flight, you may not have had the chance to get a coveted aisle seat. _place_holder; Fine, I understand. _place_holder; But that does not excuse your behavior for the rest of the 2 1/2 hours spent in a cramped, pressurized aluminum tube. _place_holder; No, no, Fatty McMiddleseat, you had grander visions for your seatmate. _place_holder;
As you suished in between my companion in 12D and me in 12F, I detected the unmistakable odor of vodka wafting from your pores. _place_holder; Was that Popov or Five O’Clock? _place_holder; It was _place_holder;5:30 am and not exactly the preferred aroma of someone who should have just showered. _place_holder;
So we settle in, get our obligatory exit row “are able and willing to operate the window in the event of an emergency” interrogatory from the flight attendant, and push back from the gate. _place_holder; Take off was uneventful except for your inadvertent seat reclining right as the engines spool up at the runway threshold. _place_holder; Was it your thigh pushing the button accidentally?
Upon passing FL 100 and our ability to operate electronic devices of imperceptibly small wattage is restored, I try to catch some sleep and listen to some soothing “happy place” music. _place_holder; But that peace is disturbed by the most noxious waft of assgas this side of the Mississippi. _place_holder; Oh my god, Fatty McMiddleseat. _place_holder; What did you have for dinner? _place_holder; I think it involved some sort of nuts. _place_holder; Your fart had a distinctly peanut aroma. _place_holder; Either that or it got filtered through your peanut dust-infused seat cushion. _place_holder; _place_holder; Yeah, every 4 or 5 minutes it happened. _place_holder; “ppuuffffffffff….”
The greatest insult, though, happened somewhere over Pennsylvania. _place_holder; You fell asleep. _place_holder; Snore. Check. Snort. Check. _place_holder; Then you proceeded to lean over onto my shoulder and place your head a 90 degree angle on top of my shoulder. _place_holder; I nudged you and your head snapped back up. Then a minute later, you did it again. A half hour of this. _place_holder; You even muttered a half-hearted “sorry” and then did it again. _place_holder; Oh, and some more nut farts helped me to make the moment more special.
Thoroughly traumatized, we finally decended. _place_holder; Right after the pilot greased it right on the numbers (way to go dude, best landing ever!), then it happened. _place_holder; Sometime in the flight you managed to unbuckle your seatbelt. _place_holder; The reverse thruster buckets kick out and brakes applied…then you, Fatty McMiddleseat, get tossed forward into the seat in front of you, almost off your seat. _place_holder;If it wasn’t so wide to begin with, I swear you would have become your own underseat carry on.  _place_holder;Damn that was funny to see you sheepishly relatch the stretched-to-its-limit belt. _place_holder;
So, thank you, Fatty McMiddleseat, for being a close companion and cuddlebuddy. _place_holder; I will miss you.