What happened to fall?

Pinkies up!

This time last week?  70 degrees.

Today?  35, tops.

Bring fall back, whoever stole it from us.  This winter garbage is too much, too soon.

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We bore the dog to utter death, I'm sure.  All we do is sit around doing our thing on teh glowy boxes, and hardly spend ANY time with him at all.  He gets in as much trouble as he does because I'm sure he's begging for attention, but how much attention can one dog gets while the human is trying to get work and stuff done?

So, he rips up used tissues and chases cats.

A dog does what he has to do to stay entertained in the waking hours.

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Let's get back to this Winter thing for a mo, along a slight tangent, to wit:

How it is already the middle of November?

How is it almost time to haul out the Christmas stuff (ALMOST, I must note)?

How did this happen?  Wasn't Hallowe'en just last week?  Wasn't Independence day just a month before that?

The end of the year, that vaunted 'sell by' date for many of my work projects, is rushing hither at a fearful clip.  I'm afraid to  count the actual number of working days that are available to get everything done I said I would.  Shhh!  Don't tell me, either.  I don't want to know.  Really, I do NOT want to know.

It won't be enough, is all I'm saying.

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Did you know that Will Smith's daughter has control over time?

Rich kids.  Sheesh.  They get whatever they ask for.

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Thing 1 started working last week.  He's a tea-rista at the pinkies-out store in the local mall.  Fancy Schmancy!  For a first job, this one's pretty dang sweet, I think.  No deep frying required, no bagging groceries or fetching carts or washing cars for that boy, oh no.  Straight to the indoor retail customer service experience!

Hope he knows how good he's got it.  Because compared to closing a McDonald's at 2:30 a.m. while angry drunk people fight in the parking lot and your hair smells like grease and you've been on your feet for 8+ hours wearing a horrible uniform, his first job seems positively peachy.

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Also, Happy Anniversary to my parents.  Number 58, though they only got to celebrate 35 of those together.  Time is short for all of us, for my Dad way too short.  Still miss him, 23 years later.

Man, time does indeed fly. 

We'll talk soon,
Tiff out.