My wonderful fianceé did a good turn and helped her mother buy a plane ticket to Florida last week. Considering we live about ten minutes from the dropoff lane of the airport, it makes sense to put her up at our house for an 8:30am departure, and drop her off at the gate. No problem. She arrived yesterday morning and settled in on the couch with five happy cats to keep her company while we went to work.

I returned home with the groceries to find a familiar but unwelcome car parked out front. it turned out that the prodigal daughter knew her mother was staying with us and decided to ‘just drop by’. Given the case history there, Jen and I are about as comfortable having her in our house as we are with elective brain surgery. I invited her to stay for dinner, figuring that it was better to keep her under watch than let her leave with our stereo in her trunk. Jen got home a little while after I did, and when she looked at me, her eyes had the “Oh my (expletive, expletive, expletive) God, who let her in here?” look. Followed closely by a look that spelled H-O-T-W-H-I-T-E-D-E-A-T-H, something that lowers the temperature of surrounding counties by twenty degrees.

We sat and had a peaceful, quiet dinner, and she left after helping her mom do the dishes. As far as we can tell, everything is still where it should be, and no blood was shed. But we decided that’s the last time she sets foot in our house without us being there.

Todd will appreciate this link: Jay-Zeezer: The Black and Blue Album. It’s not too bad, actually.

Monterrey (thx again pop), 3.16.04

Hello, It’s You. (Part 2.) A few years ago, I was lucky enough to meet a wonderful woman who
shared a number of things in common with me. We would sit and write
to each other during work, and I found myself constantly waiting for
her next email. She wrote long, insightful messages laced with wit,
hard-knock experience, and cutting sarcasm which intrigued me.

Luckily, she later became my girlfriend, and then my fiancee. Now
that I get to see her every day, and we don’t work for the same
permissive internet startup anymore, our emails have become more
succinct and matter-of-fact. I miss her writing, though, and I often
wish we were back in that VC-funded Eden where lunchbreaks lasted
three hours, candy was free, and we had eight hours a day to write
what we couldn’t say.

She’s been secretly blogging on the down-low for a while now, and
after a tumultuous year with Blogspot, she bought a subscription to
Typepad. She’s been writing there off and on for about a month now,
and recently decided to come out into the open. Please welcome Jen
into our online circle of friends. |