For my birthday this year, my husband presented me with Flogging Molly tickets, which is hands-down my favorite living band. The concert fell on a Wednesday night in Oakland. We're not particularly impulsive people, and taking off and driving an hour and a half to see a concert mid-week like that, on a school night, as it were, isn't something we do generally speaking. The last time we did something like that was eight years ago when we decided that we had to fly to Vegas to go to The Star Trek experience before they shut it down. (Which. Was.
I didn't really start programming until I met python. I love python. We understand each other. It's a very direct language. It runs in order, expects you to be specific, and cuts you no slack. It's very efficient and it loves making lists. I love making lists too. Python and I have a lot in common.
There's music everywhere here. On any given street corner in the French Quarter there could be a band playing -- with dented up instruments and announced by cardboard sign -- that'll blow your socks off. They're playing for change and they have a box full of home-burned CDs enscribed in sharpee and wrapped up in binder paper. Then you go into the clubs on Frenchmen Street and your world gets rocked again. Everywhere you turn, jazz, brass, and blues.
Hey Californians, today is your last day to register to vote if you want to vote in the upcoming primary election on June 7th.
The Secretary of State website can hook you up. It's easy. It only takes a couple of minutes.
Please register to vote. Really. It's important.
And I'm in an airport again.
Not my airport. But if you can navigate one well, you can roll with the others easily enough. And what I've learned from a year of frequent business travel is that you don't always end up in the airport in which you expected to find yourself when you booked your flight anyway.
Had a birthday last week. That's one more trip around the sun and natural selection hasn't gotten the better of me yet. Is good.
Happy Stars Wars Day, folks. I've been ultra busy lately, but nothing but the most important intergalactic business could keep from wishing you a happy May the Fourth. So here's a vaguely Star Wars-ish post for you.
The company softball game was Saturday. Half the office is whimpering from sore muscles as we walk up and down the stairs, myself very much included. I'm also sporting two new bruises from tripping over what appeared to be my own two feet on the way to first base. Hey, I made it to first base before the ball did. I made it there head first, but I made it.
I'm changing my name to Grace.
I had a somewhat anachronistic weekend. Saturday I went to Sac ComicCon. I'd never been to a con before, though I had always kind of wanted to. This one was small, nearby, and inexpensive, so on more-or-less a whim, we bought tickets and gave it a whirl. They had the sorts of things that you would expect to see, presuming anybody ever truly expects to see two guys battling it out in full plate armor made from flattened mountain dew cans and duct tape.
My son came home from school several weeks ago brandishing a permission slip to join an after-school geography club, which I thought was pretty cool. (I'm a geographer by trade myself.) He thought it was pretty cool too, so I signed the form.
The first day he came home from geography club, I asked him what he'd learned that day, and he said something like, "We learned the capitals of the states."
"Huh. Okay." I'll admit I was a little puzzled, but I do remember being forced to do that myself at about his age.