“I’ve Been Worried Sick…”

Oh, poor bloggy. So sad, so lonely, so dejected. Your master gets a job and you lie fallow, alone in your never-ending task to serve up jaunty goodness to the world-wide masses. ed doesn’t get anything to provide snarky comments on. And you poor bloggy, my poor dear sweet bloggy, you find yourself with nothing to do but serve up the same old tired reruns. “Tonight, a very special episode of The Stickley Table…” It’s no wonder you’re sad.

That’s about to change.

First, the first week at the new job has worn me out. Not physically, mind, but I’ve found myself in what you might call a dilly of a pickle. [We removed a lot of content here because some of the people on our side have said that it’s not “work-safe.” Apparently Bob can’t keep his mouth shut. -ed That’s why you’re on the payroll. Geez. -bob]

“May you live in interesting times” goes the Chinese curse. I think that rightly describes the workplace at this moment.

Second, I’m heading to the desert over the weekend through FIRE! See? I’m as dedicated as they come. Sure, it’s Mother’s Day, but I’ll also be working. Into the frying pan, indeed.

Third, I don’t know if I should be writing about this (Is that why it’s third? – ed Exactly. But if I get the word, I’ll strike it. You know, if it’s too personal. – bob), but my lovely writing partner and co-conspirator has suffered a great tragedy in the loss of her father over the weekend.

I met him briefly at her wedding and found him to be warm, charming, and generous with his affection. Despite the pain he was suffering at the time, I caught him at a moment—with a gleam in his eye—when he took my dear friend’s hand to walk her down the aisle. In those few steps, you saw the real man inside that man.

When I shook his hand after the ceremony, I realized after a while that I wasn’t letting go. And now we have to.

Your pal (wherever you are),

bob