I wear steel-toed boots when I cut the grass, and my 3-year-old son likes to help. So, he wears his boots, too, and pushes his plastic mower (which, unlike mine, blows bubbles) as he follows me around the yard.
Lawnmower shoes, big and small.
My feet are the bigger pair, in case that’s not clear from the photograph.
Apparently, some folks at my company like to reduce all messages to a mathematical equation.
Recently, our I.T. department announced its latest reorganization, and included a slide in the announcement that looked something like this:
Alignment x Energy x Focus = Success
My friends who work in the I.T. department are baffled by the reorganization — they’re not sure where they fit now — and are unimpressed by the equation. One said that the formula should also divide by Bureaucracy, then subtract Morale.
My baby son has taken to making weird squeaking noises. We think he’s talking to dolphins, and telling them how they can help the government.
Today we celebrated my father’s 74th birthday. What to get such a guy for his birthday?
Idea: a set of empty boxes, so he can begin to put away all the crap he’s received over the years. In fact, I would enjoy such a thoughtful gift.
Our 3-year-old son likes to end a request with the question: “How ’bout that?” Often, he follows up with: “Would that be good?”
For example: “Guys, let’s skip our baths and play in the basement. How ’bout that? Would that be good?”
Today is the 25th anniversary of the start of my working career. Actually, I was supposed to start on a Monday, the 18th, but, at the time, that was a paid holiday (Presidents’ Day). So, I started on a Tuesday.
I remember my first day of work. I arrived early, before any of my new co-workers, and sat in the “terminal room” (a room which held the four computers that our group shared) waiting for my boss to arrive. I was intrigued by the screen saver, which spelled out the company’s name, complete with a flickering (animated) flame.
I was assigned to my own office — with real walls that reached the ceiling, and a door! — then was given a bunch of books to read. For the next few days, my most difficult task was staying awake as I read. (I also wasn’t accustomed to sitting for long spells, and can recall that my body felt “sluggish” at the end of each day.)
Fortunately, my job has evolved over the years, and I’m much more mobile and less prone to drowsiness.
I took my three eldest children to a high school basketball game this evening. One of the teams was coached by a childhood friend of mine.
The last time we visited this school, my father fell and broke the fall with his face. This time, no injuries.
My three-year-old son remembered the coach — he had accompanied us to a baseball game last summer. So, whenever the coach stood up during the game, my son would wave to him. (And he couldn’t understand why the coach never waved back. Might be because: (a) he was working; (b) we were sitting about 20 rows up; and (c) we were behind the coach, so he never saw the waves.
After the game, and after speaking with the press, the coach came out and was surprised that my son remembered him — they had met only once, at the baseball game. I explained my theory that, when you’re three, you have fewer memories, and thus can remember them all.
I had to fill out an expense report today — for a trip that was cancelled!
Apparently, it’s not good enough that my credit card balance is zero, with a charge and then a credit for a cancelled airline ticket. No, I have to still explain where I was going, even though I’m not going there anymore.
My favorite time of day is pre-dawn. I’m the first one in the family to rise in the morning, so this is my time of solitude — when I can do what I want without anyone interrupting me.
After an hour or two of solitude, I typically wake my eldest child so she can get ready for school. We eat breakfast together, and then I ride her to school and walk her, holding hands, to her second-grade classroom. This is the only time of the day when I’m alone with her, and it’s a special ritual for us.
I love all my children, but I think I’ll always have a special bond with the eldest. I remember, when my second child was born, telling my mother that I didn’t think I could love this new child as much as the eldest. Of course, I was wrong, but I still have a deep affection for the kid that started it all.
At a group lunch, one of my work colleagues explained a far-fetched approach to a particular business problem.
Another colleague critiqued the approach with a rather sharp insult:
“I’m going to get you a 1-page dictionary with the word ‘practical’ in it.”
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