Friday, August 20, 2004

Public school felicitations 

I should like to take this opportunity to first congratulate Megan for surviving her first day as a full-time, salaried and insured art teacher, and secondly to applaud Marjorie's having made it through her son's first full day in public school with the number of check-ins kept to an absolute minimum.

Last day at UALR 

Today is going to be my last day at work, and I'll admit that I'm a bit nervous about it. It won't be awkward or anything; I may not love my job too much, but I certainly love all the people I work with. They're an odd bunch, goofy people like me who mess up all the time and then gab about it to at least get a laugh. The frightening bit is how finalized everything will be after today, that, if circumstance were to decide that this school thing didn't need to happen tomorrow, well, I simply will be unemployed. Today, just a few quick hours of training people for some video editing software, go around campus to get clearance cards signed, pack up my things, and I'll be finished.

Oh, who cares. I know they're having pizza for us all today, Marjorie's going to bring a pecan pie or two (one for my trip, I hope!), and I heard talk of a cheesecake. They know how to soften me up, man. I'll be crying with my mouth full.


Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Progress report 

(Wipes sweat from brow, scans the cluttered horizon.)


Monday, August 16, 2004


This is your official six day warning, people: I am leaving Little Rock next Sunday at around 5 p.m. If you wish to give me money, wish me luck, buy me lunch or some other such beautiful gesture, we're in the home stretch. If you wish to collect on a debt, settle a score or just be an ass, swing by my house on Monday.

The minutiae of moving are sort of coalescing into a tremendous avalanche of stress this week, so, and I apologize, I won't be available as much as I'd hoped. If you need me and can't get ahold of me, just swing by the house. Odds are I'll be sorting and boxing the day away, and I can guarantee that company would be a nice way to break the hellish tedium (and I promise I won't make you work, uh, too much).

Also, spread the word that I will be having a sort of impromptu going away get-together this Saturday night at Whitewater Tavern (and assorted homier locations during the day). I want to see all of you there, as you will probably get to take incriminating pictures of me doing things that I usually catch all of you doing.

Otherwise, holy shit, I'm moving.

I recall that some of you kind D.C. folk once offered a free drink in welcome. Any of those offers still open? I can guarantee that I'll be needing it.

Knock on wood.


Sunday, August 15, 2004


or, How Minor League Baseball is At Least a Dozen Times More Enertaining than the Majors.

Saturday night, cool air, twelve hundred people, sing along with Harry Caray (Travs win! Travs win!), beer pyramid on the bleachers, nacho cheese, free polaroids with the (androgynous) mascot, bright halogens, free hats, giant first basemen, crack of the bat, fierce organ lady (did she just play 'Riders on the Storm,' and what does that have to do with baseball? Go request 'The End.'), and the best volunteer hecklers I've ever seen (since, well, your mama).


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