A quick disclaimer about social media and live events.
I recognize that the chance for some of the information I’m distributing could be inaccurate. For example, Arrowmont having burned…we now have pictures that most of the structures are still standing.
I hope most people know that social media brings awareness at the sacrifice of accuracy. Our sharing of information is second or third hand and anecdotal. I am 45 minutes to an hour and a half away from the fires. I am not witnessing any of this first hand.
The choice between posting these things is one of awareness versus accuracy. I’d rather put it out there and have people know what’s going on and what is at stake and make corrections later. I am not always good about including words like “second hand” and “unconfirmed” I think that’s all implied right now.
I thought today would be a perfect day to wear my favorite cashmere sweater. Unfortunately, it has gone missing. Hopefully, I find it in the car. Sorta defines these past two weeks. See, I’ve been on a working vacation. That would be two weeks off of the day job to solely focus on the side job. It was a wonderful vacation. Had plenty of positive experiences (mostly centered around family fun), some negative (my 11-year-old received frostbite on his fingertips and I felt like a cad), and good progress on my project (albeit, the intention was to have it completed before this morning…it isn’t).
My vacation plans had been this: Do everything in my power to finish my side project BEFORE the vacation began. Spend the vacation working on the house and spending time with my family. Unfortunately, software doesn’t always cooperate. I’m very close to having it wrapped up. My software muse is in good spirits. Let the code flow!
The older I become, the more I appreciate Ebenezer Scrooge.
Adulting: Spending $1200 to save $1700.
Context: Evan, our 11 year old, helped me drop one of the cats off at the veterinarian for a comprehensive exam last Wednesday. Behind the scale is this sign. Recently, both our 12 year old and 9 year old German Shepherds died.
Evan, 11 years old, studies the sign: "Dad, I think our next dog should be a three, four, or five."
Me: "Evan, that’s not a menu."
Time to take my evening dose of Phokital.
Reading Trump’s first 100 day plan made me physical ill. He’s going to set this country back 50 years.
I like SourceTree so much better than Github Desktop.
Me: "Alexa, play the Ramones."
Groggy 11 year old Evan walks into the room: "Dad, could you turn down the music?"
Me: "What are you guys doing?"
Tomorrow’s dinner was cooked tonight!