Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

life lived in databases

I woke up early this morning and went on-line to the LEXIS service to gather cases for the reply brief I'm finalizing today. It's fun to search when you know basically what you're looking for, and just need to enter the key words to bring the right citations up again.
Now one can even e mail oneself the cases, which is a nice service.

Soon I'll shave and shower, and then pack for tonight's quick business trip. I will have to find a book to read on the plane. I have a number of projects aside from work on my plate. I see that nanowrimo is gearing up to write complete novels again in November. I intend already to write a book in October for a nervousness exchange, so I am debating foregoing a November novel this year. On the other hand, it was a great deal of fun to write 50,000 words in ten days last year. Maybe I'll spend November doing the final edit of that novel, which I originally set aside this month to do. I have my hand-written letter set to complete, which is quite fun, and which I hope to work on during my trip. I've got more than a few things on my work "to do" list, although the list does seem to whittle down as well as replenish over time.
I made plans for us to spend the weekend in the Kiamichi Mountains in Oklahoma this weekend with my old friend Gene, but now I'm wondering if I should postpone for one weekend. Of course, a bit of hiking in dense forests always restores me, so perhaps that trip should stay on the chart, and I should just be productive as anything during the next few weekdays. I need to complete my Mandatory Continuing Legal Education for this year as well, so I've got a few things on my plate.

Last night as I drove home, the red sky at night was this sailor's delight. I hope the red sky at morning back east works out for everyone with as little difficulty as possible. I see so many people have hurricane memories, but my only hurricane memory is being miserable at a baseball camp in Chandler, Oklahoma, reading in a newspaper about Hurricane Camille. It was hardly the stuff of battening hatches and one hundred mile an hour winds.

I also notice that my fellow Live Journal folks have dream lives that are more colorful than mine in the same way that a hypothetical technicolor dreamcoat must be more colorful than a gray rock in a dark space. I longed to be fascinating, but I found myself merely fascinated.

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