Today at work I found out that some people have favorite shapes. One person annouced "hexagon" as his favorite, while another offered, "triangle!" Feeling left out, I've decided "rhombus" will assume the throne of my favorite shapehood.

I'm struggling on this rainy afternoon, feeling glum, getting an obscure run-time error on a chunk of code that worked fine until I refactored it. I've gone from loving Java to hating it, cursing it as the droplets fall and the gray hangs heavily all around. All of a sudden, I become aware of the music coming out of my iPod on the office speakers. It's Frank Sinatra, singing Here's to the Losers. It doesn't help.

Lunch discussion, summarized: don't befriend/work with/love/etc. anyone who is incapable of saying, "I was wrong" and "I don't know."

When you cook everyday, you begin to remember how easy it is, and so when you come home you go right to the market and get a lot of food for the whole week, even though it's really heavy to carry home. And when you spend your time breezily passing between houses, stopping to sit at the table outside on the deck (to enjoy a cup of coffee or an early evening glass of wine) you come home and realize how much of every day you pass indoors, trapped within walls, sheltered from the sun. And when you spend hours submerged in salt water, riding waves, and feeling the hot grit of tiny rocks and baby shells against your soles, you come home to discover your shower tastes dull, and you don't feel wet in the same way, and your feet won't go back into shoes not matter how hard you squeeze them. And when you read two-and-a-half books and barely watch TV (except for bits of baseball) and don't touch a computer or a cell phone for more than a week, you return to find that staring at a monitor for nine hours makes you feel nauseous and dizzy and tires your eyes and you wonder if maybe you'll be blind in twenty years from spending your days staring at pixels instead of moors, waves, and stars. And when you catch and grill bluefish for your grandparents' 63rd anniversary party (and also make a chocolate cake) and you look at everyone gathered — from the youngest at four to the oldest at 87 — you realize which things to hold close (so very very close) and which to cast away.

Well I had this nice plan of displaying a picture for each day I was out of town, but alas the blackout foiled that. And then I was off on vacation and no computer or anything. And now I'm back, trying to readjust to it all. I can barely type. But I'm very tan.

April may be the cruellest month, but surely August is the slowest. By which I mean there's just not a lot happening to link to or write about. A waste land indeed! I'm sure September will bring with her crispiness lots of exciting things to discuss. In the meantime, I'm thankful for the languid summer days.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I'm aware that I wrote there's nothing to say and then followed up in a matter of hours with two more posts. But that's always how it is with me.

After brief discussion, it has been determined that the adjective "foxy" is not used enough. It will be added into the adjective rotation and henceforth, work discussions will take advantage of its saucy, crafty, and animalistic meanings. E.g.

"Mark, that's a foxy class you've written!"

"Did you see the gigabit switch?"
"Ooh yeah! Foxy!"

"…and through inheritance, foxy inheritance…"

I'm in heavy-duty work mode for the next few weeks and probably won't be posting much. Just an FYI. Also quick updates: no luck with Seabiscuit tickets yet and I'm quite sure it's birds eating my garden. Also, NYC is weirdly cold but sticky today, humid, gray. I want Mr. Golden Sun to please shine down on me.

First I went the wrong way out my front door, and walked several paces before I realized, "Hey! Where am I going? This isn't how I go to work." Then when I got to the station, I dug my keys out of my purse, rather than my MetroCard. I was a little perplexed as I stood there, wondering how to unlock the turnstile.