Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Back in Siberia

Well, as the drunken ex-fighter pilot said at the end of "Independance Day" as he kamakazied the giant alien ship, "IIII'MMMMM BAAAACCCCCKKKK!".

At work, anyway. I had to drive over to Jacksonville to pick up Littlest Blue yesterday from her European vacation, figuring that we'd be back in the old home town by 8 PM tops, only to find out that her London-Houston connection started out two and a half hours late, making her miss her connection by a couple of minutes and not allowing us home until 1:30 AM, meaning that just about everyone in the Blue household is tired.

But, it was back to the old salt mines today. My staff was glad to see me (well, at least I think so; more so after I shared genuine Vermont honey in tiny little jars and Maine Lottery scratch-off tickets with them) and I've been wading through the morass all day today, further reminding me why I keep a countdown clock until my retirement.

Littlest Blue regaled me all the way back last night with tales of the wild and woolly Old Europe (as Rummy called it in the Prior Occupant's administration), particularly how she HAD to drink beer just about everywhere because it was SO much cheaper than soda or water with ice in it. Not that I'm doubting her, of course, since I've heard that before, but not out of the mouth of my youngest, who cannot drink legally here. She doesn't seem to have destroyed too many of her brain cells in the process, but now she's got to buckle down and go through a couple of weeks of training at her job herding freshman girls at our local university and then ratchet things up for school, which starts all too soon.

Bigger Blue managed an "A" in her one class at the local Community College this semester, of which we are all happy for her. Now if we could only get her to pick up her clothes in the bathroom...

Our cat is getting older and having a difficult time remembering where to take a whiz. Sorta like yours truly, but I'm not nearly as old as she is comparatively, so I really don't have as good as an excuse. She managed to put a big stain in our newly installed wood floor and now is convinced that the same spot is the place to go from now on. She's also remembered to wake me up in the middle of the night for wet food, so I know it isn't the kitty-kat version of Alzheimer's. It'll be a sad day when our cat is gone; she's been a good one, if you don't count the shedding, the countless allergy attacks and the constant screaming for food. That's what make us love them, I suppose.

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