1. My sister and brother in law just bought a new establishment to go with their fish and chips place on Alki: the Admiral Pub in West Seattle. The Kjel.org Chief Safety Officer (formerly the Kjel.org Pullman rep) is helping to run it. I may need to go there soon and class up the place a bit, if you know what I mean. I don’t actually know what I mean there, but it sounds good.
2. The CEO picked up some kind of weird stomach bug early yesterday morning. I haven’t really eaten anything since dinner Wednesday night (I don’t think Tums counts as food), and holy crap I’m hungry. I felt a little bit better this morning and had some Gatorade and part of an an english muffin; I plan to go have a feast at lunch today and see how that turns out. It’s poor form to barf at work; I hope to avoid any episodes like that.
3. A certain sister of the CEO got him a customized steak brand for Christmas:
However, the company making it screwed up my initials the first time around so I don’t have it yet. As soon as the fixed version is delivered to me, it’ll be monogrammed steaks all around at the HQ.
4. In a moment of lunacy last October, the CFO agreed to accompany a group of international students to the Blazer game tonight. I hope there are plenty of parking spots for a 16 passenger van at the Rose Garden. While she is driving a van full of foreigners to watch the Jail Blazers, Stinkboy and I will be eating pizza and watching the Simpsons. It’s a good thing too we are getting pizza: these days whenever Jr sees any sort of delivery person, he starts yelling Pizza guy! Pizza guy! and then is very upset when that person doesn’t immediately deliver him a pizza. Tonight maybe I’ll even let him pay. Or at least tip the guy. Jr., let me tell you about the three dollar rule . . .
5. I was telling someone up in Bellevue about driving around on a new clutch, and how for a mile or two at least it was like learning to drive a stick all over again. I was then reminded of the day my dad and I bought the grey Subaru; this story horrifies the CFO. It was 1989. He and I were at a dealership in Seattle on Westlake, checking out used Suby wagons. We found one we liked, Dad test drove it, and we bought it on the spot. We’d lost track of time; my dad was late for some appointment across town. Uh dad, you know I’ve never driven a stick shift, right? “It’s not tough; you’ll get the gist of it pretty quick I bet. Gotta go. See you at home tonight . . .” He sped off. Oddly enough, he was right. I did get the gist of it pretty quick. All of those quarters I’d fed into Pole Position at the Chuck-E-Cheeses were not wasted. I took one quick lap around the dealership, and then set myself loose on the streets of Seattle. I eventually found I-5 and then 520, and finally I was home, clutch intact. I’ve always wondered where I get my fine parenting skills. When memories like this resurface that elusive answer gets closer and closer.
