This is what I see now when I come home from work. Now he could just be looking out the window at the assorted fauna here in Stepford but I want to flatter myself and think he knows when to wait for me. Sweet dog. If only he’d poop *exclusively* outside.
I heard Springsteen’s “Glory Days” on the radio today. When is the age where your reaction to that song changes from “Whooooooo! Glory Dayyyyyyyyyyyyys!” to “(sigh)…Glory Days.” I must have passed that age already, because despite the upbeat melody, damn that song is sad.
When were my glory days? Certainly wasn’t in high school, when my biggest accomplishment was becoming invisible enough so that people would stop teasing me. Definately wasn’t college, where I was just another social security – oh, I mean student ID – number in the crowd.
Maybe they’re yet to come.
In other news, coworker Damon is now coworker Damon the official Courier-Post Games columnist! Our newspaper’s FIRST games columnist, by the way. I’ll be adding this linkie to the Surfs section on the left.
Links come and go, really. I’ve plucked more sites from that bar than I have ticks from Max. (God, he’s a tick magnet) Why? Well, MadPony has shut down, which makes me sad. I know the author has a fantastic future ahead.
Misbehaving.net, with the exception of a handful of fantastic posts, has become a promotional spot for academic workshops (yawn) and a platform for whining about perceived discrimination.
I sat in my weekly uber-important meeting yesterday. Twelve regular participants. Seven men, five women. Five years ago, there was only one woman at that meeting. Thirty-three years ago, my mom couldn’t get a job without promising she wouldn’t get pregnant. Most women of childbirthing age couldn’t get work at all.
Now it’s 2004. And here I am, smack in the prime of my childbearing years, participating in that important meeting as head of the Online Department, with four other women who earned those positions instead of whining and writing position papers about not having them.
Yes, these are my Glory Days.
