My brother M left for Iraq on Friday. He should have arrived by now. His photos will appear on this New Orleans
news site.
The last the family heard M was in a nice hotel in Kuwait, sleep-deprived and awaiting deployment with the Louisiana National Guard. So far, the only dangerous encounter has been with the Lufthansa stewardresses, who ran loaded beverage carts into his person. Poor M.
I have now had two evenings of drinking in 2005. Went to a fun party of older adults with my friends S and M on Saturday night. Someone told a story about putting Depends on their dog. Someone else talked about going through customs afraid their fake Rolex would land them in trouble. Strange, someone else told me the exact same story earlier in the day, about being accused of dealing drugs in Thailand. Oops.
Anyway the pate was good. Even though S won't eat it, and never has. ("Do you know what they do to those poor geese?") Mmm, liver.
My life is work. I am writing scripts again, which is actually pretty fun. Better if it weren't on a Sunday night. Then again, Friday afternoon was sortof like a whole day off.
I tried to accept the Autodesk job -- a chance to learn new skills and manage people and all that -- but the nice man hasn't taken the time to respond, so it's up in the air still. In the meantime, my office rent is due, so I think I'll see the month out, at least.
A super social weekend. Saw someone's fat new baby. Ate too much ice cream. Swam, made shrimp salad for the first time, and changed my sheets. Next stop: laundromat.
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