Quite the day for birthdays.
(Which, as Dementia points out, is quite the trifecta.)
More locally: Filkmeister Extraordinaire Tom Smith, and sister-in-law Patti Haynie.
What follows is a rant. Feel free to ignore it. Also be assured that I have more sense than to actually send it to anyone.
Dear Potential Employer:
You seem to be confused about the nature of our relationship. Allow me to clarify things.
I am an intelligent, hard working person who has skills that you find valuable. You have work that needs to be done. I will do your job, in excess of your standards, and tolerate a certain amount of pain and degradation, in exchange for money. This is where your part of the transaction ends.
I will take the money you give me, and fritter it away on frivolities like food, clothing, shelter, and my heretofore fruitless search for meaning. None of this has anything to do with you.
As long as the work gets done well, my attitudes are none of your business. If I am joyful, I will do my best to share my joy with my co-workers (it hasn't happened yet, but it could); if my attitude is toxic (which is something I do my best to avoid, but occasionally fail), part of doing the job well is keeping that to myself, so I will.
Passion fades. Integrity endures. You might think the first is preferable, but you would be wrong.
This is a fake "Jeopardy" question. It's brain dead simple in this household, not sure in the real world. It says something about perspective, though. As usual, don't blurt out the answer, just say, "Yes" if you know it, or "No" if you don't; I will post the actual answer in a while.
In this well known adventure story, the characters spend most of their time covering up a treasonous affair between the King's wife and a high ranking foreign official.
Crossed something off my bucket list yesterday, backwards. That is, I didn't accomplish it, I demonstrated that I will never be able to accomplish it. This hurts. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as my feet did last night, but my feet are more or less OK this morning.
In September of 2015, I tried to walk the Geneva Lake shore path in a single day, and failed. I got a late start, and once it became clear that I wasn't going to finish, I let the pain in my feet talk me into quitting.
Yesterday, I tried again. I started two hours earlier, and the calendar gave me another hour on the back end. I got farther before before my "projected completion time" slipped past sunset, but the thing that ended the walk was the foot pain, again.
For the most part, everything went well; no significant joint or muscle pain, no blisters, no chafing problems. But it has become clear that the soles of my feet have no interest in carrying me more than about ten miles in any given 24 hour period, and the 21.2 of the shore path is just NOT going to happen.
For the record, I made 13 miles; 12.25 from Linn Pier clockwise to Chapin Road, and then (after significant deliberation among bad alternatives) another 3/4 mile up the hill to Wisconsin 50 (and, more importantly, Foley's Tavern).
Also for the record, toward the end, every step was a level 6 spike ("Don't think about it, just keep going. Don't think about it, just keep going. Don't think about it, just keep going."), and the occasional downward stair step was a level 7 spike (Clench your teeth and take it because there is no choice.) Much fun.
So walking the shore path in a single day is off the list. (Well, if I can loose a hundred pounds or so, there will be grounds for reevaluation.) This makes me sad.
On the other hand, there will be some pictures in the next day or two.
In a virtuoso display of legislative ineptitude, Illinois has walked away from what is essentially $250,000 a DAY in free money because the legislature can't stop bickering long enough to set up an escrow account to guarantee the prizes for the multi-state lotteries (Mega Millions and Powerball). This is truly a special kind of stupid.