Things could still work out for me
As long as I'm not dead...
--Blues Traveler, "Go Outside & Drive"
No, I'm not dead. Though at times it's definitely felt that way. When last we left our intrepid hero, it was September, things were still unseasonably warm, work was hard but not overly so, and I had a nine month old daughter. Now, it's May, things are unseasonably chilly, work has slowed down, and I have a 17 month old daughter. So...what happened?
Mrs. Dave has this period of work every year where she disappears into what's known as "the black hole". It's six to eight weeks of sixteen-hour work days, bringing work home, being constantly on-call for meetings at any time of day, and generally reading until her eyes are about to give up, jump from their sockets and form a mini-picket line protesting unfair treatment. The only good things about it: casual dress for the duration, and the knowledge that it only lasts for those six to eight weeks. Me...well, I haven't been so lucky.
Picture, if you will, that you're an artist. And you've been commissioned to make a painting based on the Mona Lisa. Now imagine it's 1506...the year Da Vinci started to paint it. Oh, and it's due that year, so you can't wait until it's done. Aaand, you don't know what colors he's using, and have to guess. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the painter. Far too much boring detail to go into now, but suffice it to say that I've aged considerably over the past eight months, and Mrs. Dave's infinite patience has been one of the few reasons I'm probably even still alive. Oh, the stories I could tell, if I weren't afraid of getting sued. You know how it is. But the painting is done, we're in post-mortem stage now, and I now get to spend more time at home with this little bundle of cuteness:
As long as I'm not dead...
--Blues Traveler, "Go Outside & Drive"
No, I'm not dead. Though at times it's definitely felt that way. When last we left our intrepid hero, it was September, things were still unseasonably warm, work was hard but not overly so, and I had a nine month old daughter. Now, it's May, things are unseasonably chilly, work has slowed down, and I have a 17 month old daughter. So...what happened?
Mrs. Dave has this period of work every year where she disappears into what's known as "the black hole". It's six to eight weeks of sixteen-hour work days, bringing work home, being constantly on-call for meetings at any time of day, and generally reading until her eyes are about to give up, jump from their sockets and form a mini-picket line protesting unfair treatment. The only good things about it: casual dress for the duration, and the knowledge that it only lasts for those six to eight weeks. Me...well, I haven't been so lucky.
Picture, if you will, that you're an artist. And you've been commissioned to make a painting based on the Mona Lisa. Now imagine it's 1506...the year Da Vinci started to paint it. Oh, and it's due that year, so you can't wait until it's done. Aaand, you don't know what colors he's using, and have to guess. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the painter. Far too much boring detail to go into now, but suffice it to say that I've aged considerably over the past eight months, and Mrs. Dave's infinite patience has been one of the few reasons I'm probably even still alive. Oh, the stories I could tell, if I weren't afraid of getting sued. You know how it is. But the painting is done, we're in post-mortem stage now, and I now get to spend more time at home with this little bundle of cuteness:
