55 to 50

Fifty-five days to my fiftieth birthday, that is. It's not such a long time to inhabit this planet, in the grand scheme of it all. Still, thinking about those friends and family members who didn't make it 50 years gives me reason to ponder why I did. Or will, barring unforseen disasters.

I've tempted fate, fêted temptations, and just plain made my share of stupid decisions that could have -- but somehow didn't -- end badly. But enough of all that . . . I have actually been looking forward to and not dreading this upcoming natal celebration. I confess that it's probably partly because most of the folks who've known me less than 30 years can't believe that I'm "as old" as I am. Still, I can't claim to look as good as most of the mostly-plasticized 50-year olds in the public light. That's okay with me though; there's really nothing like 50-year olds who look like 50-years olds, dammit.

Oh, and the illustration has nothing (nothing Mucha?) to do with this post; I just like it.

Funky Friday

Redheads rule.
Especially when they're Bonnie Raitt:

Snow Tired

Tired snow tyres try,

Clutch clutches,

Make no purchase;

Credit's no good anyway.








I need to be careful what I wish for. Two consecutive mid-week snow assaults have left me winter weary. All around campus folks have the look of battle survivors, having barely been able to lay their shovels down since the middle of December. Yesterday morning's 25-mile commute took 75 minutes, but at least I was able to get my cardio workout in during that time as my heart rate got waaaay up there while I tried not to do a 180 on the big hill up toward Boone.

If it's warm and sunny where you are, I don't wanna hear about it.

(Not Quite) Funky Friday, Valentine's Edition

I'm just a sentimental fool . . .

Love, Inc.

Upon recently receiving official confirmation that corporations have achieved full personhood, it made sense to me to expand my dating search beyond mere human persons and try flirting with some publicly-held prospects instead. And so, I eschewed the personals pages and started scanning the NASDAQ and Dow in search of my perfect match.

First I was swept off my feet by CapitalOne, whose attractive interest rate blinded me to its true colors. It wasn't long before all I saw through the phony generosity to the broken promises, and realized that my best interests – and best interest rate – were just the stuff of fantasy.

On the rebound, I hooked up with Exxon. Behind the shiny façade of a global energy concern, however, I found out that Exxon is really no better than a 4 year-old who makes enormous messes, and leaves them for someone else to clean up. No thank you.

Maybe a younger corporation would be a fun date, I thought. Starbucks seemed to fit the bill – energetic, youthful, and an undeniably sexy fragrance. But the phony Euro-speak was just not impressive at all, and before you could say “I’d like a Venti, sugar-free, non-fat, vanilla soy, double shot, decaf, no foam, extra hot, Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha with light whip and extra syrup, please,” I was ready to call it a night.

Rather than admit failure once again, I decided to give the Corporation for Public Broadcasting a chance. Alas, what began as a fantastically intellectually stimulating evening ended when CPB started asking for money while dessert was being served, and kept on asking for money every 30 minutes for the rest of the evening. What a bore!

It seems that I can’t even find romance in the corporate world, at least not in this economy. Maybe things will thaw out come spring. In the meantime, I could always try my luck with the snowman across the street . . . .

Funky Friday, Frostbite Edition

I feel good. The snow & ice storm has closed campus for the day, so I get to stay home and watch movies surf the 'net edit manuscripts in my jammies without distractions.

I feel good. The raise that I was promised when I took my present position in January '08 has finally become a reality. At least, it will be real in my next paycheck. Unfortunately it will not be retroactive to January '08, and doesn't take into account the increased cost of living since January '08, but I must be grateful for any crumb tossed my way, or so they want me to believe.

I feel good. The conference that I've been dreading looking forward to next month in Columbus has taken on a more attractive aspect since I learned there are two Chihuly exhibits happening while I'll be there.

I feel good. It's Friday!!!

It's Official . . .

. . . I'm sick of winter!

More accurately, I'm sick of snow and ice storms that arrive on the weekend; I'd welcome a substantial mid-week snowfall, so I'd have an excuse to work from home.

Or stay home and not work...whatever.

With another weekend storm predicted, I checked the forecasts for places more southerly and beach-y, contemplating a mini-vacation, even if it means spending some of my income tax refund before I've figured out how much it'll be. Alas, the same system that will bring frozen precipitation to Bubbaville is predicted to bring rain to the coast, too.

Oh, well. Food Lion has mangoes on sale this week, and I've got an unopened fifth of rum in the cabinet. I can turn up the thermostat on the gas fireplace and pretend I'm . . . somewhere else.