Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

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life lived in charcoal drawing

Today I had the kind of Saturday I wish to have always. I got up early, headed to the office, straightened up the "meeting room" half of the office (which had gotten that cluttered 'can't have a meeting in here' look, through my personal efforts and inaction), and then sat down to learn our new billing software. I am a closet softwareophobe. I have a reasonably good deductive mind, and I am only a few math skills short of being a total science nerd. But detail work is my dragon, and the details of new software impale this particular St. George right on the dragon's teeth. Not today, though! With some help from my partner and our computer fellow, I was soon up and using the new system. It's so easy. It will save me 10 hours a month of administrative effort. I say a quick prayer of thanks for science, technology and Intuit(ion).

Then I stopped by the drugstore photo shop to work on a long-delayed project I'll call the Cubic Zirconium project. The photoshop needed me to reformat some digital things, but now I see with a litte minor conversion and such, things will work exactly as planned. A good project for next weekend, when I will be living the bachelor life, as my wife is going to visit friends in Virginia. I remembered to pick up some sticky film for my I Zone Polaroid--the last film I got was non-sticky, which seemed to me utterly absurd, as what is the point of buying film for a camera that takes roughly LJ icon size pix if one is not going to have sticky backing. I even wrote a letter to tech support on the fine art of product labeling, but the tech support representative did not understand what I wanted to say (i.e., label that some film is non-adhesive if you are going to make your national campaign for your product all about adhesive, and if you are going to sell the product sans words so that each box is its own visual globe-trotting Esperanto). My current theory is that there are still Two Cultures--but now they are technical customer service and people who write in sentences without metatags.

We went to historic little downtown McKinney, just up the highway, to eat at the quaint little Italian place. I took IZone pix of corn fields, cows, sunsets, teddy bears in the window, county courthouses, and the like. They are now being pasted into the scrapbook for a Texas patina to the enterprise. The first scrapbook, and probably the first two scrapbooks, will go out Monday, along with two other things that need sending. Three, count 'em, three things went out on Friday. I am back in a mail art mood, and I am moody with vengeance! I also put two groovy books up on, one about a German storybook artist, and one about voluntary simplicity. I'm eager to post dozens of books up and see if the world wants to read 'em. I hand inscribed my bookcrossing data into them, but I suppose I must print out labels and such eventually. I hate writing in books, but there's something quaint about a heartfelt note. I have lived my life taking great nourishment from heartfelt notes and space food sticks.

Tonight we walked by the park pond. Gone were the multitudes of spring singing and capering birds. We heard killdeer somewhere, but saw none. Here were kids playing soccer on a little kiddie field area, all enthusiastic. Kid soccer has been big in north Texas for years. Although gregwest98 has reported that he finds it mind-numbingly boring, and he should know, I always find it kinda fun....exotic in a down to earth way...a bit like that fellow in the film Breaking Away who kept trying to speak with an Italian accent until he met the French girl, when he tried to mimic a French accent. When I played junior high football, off seasons were spent playing soccer, but that version of soccer was essentially a modified "kill the man with the ball, but don't use your hands". I was a goalie, though, so the melee largely passed me by. In 2 years, I believe only one goal was scored against me, and it would not have been if Stanley had not run over me. Stanley was a huge fullback. A cloud passes over my mind as I write that, though, because Stanley later was sent up to the big house for a strong arm robbery, and by my 10th reunion he was supposedly in a nursing home, barely clinging to life after a life of particularly hard chemical induced knocks. In high school, things seem as though they last forever, but they don't. They change so much.

But as sad as that thought makes me, I am determined to have a restful, fun Sunday, getting my obligations met, thinking about brighter things. Gosh, I even taught myself how to do LiveJournal polls today (but then realized I have no pertinent questions), watched most of the movie Juggernaut (which is the trick wire on the bomb--the red one or the blue one?), and had deep meaningful looks at a Texas sunset that would convert an agnostic to theism and a theist to the agnostic pursuit of the science of sunlight.

I've even managed to figure out how to use MS Photo to alter a real live picture. Life is good indeed!

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