Being a LAN Manager means a slow and painful death - by a thousand paper cuts.
Bon mot for the day: We tend to live in the past when we can't see much of a future.
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Dear God, We need to talk. I'm at a loss here for what I'm expected to do. I come into work only to find that a co-worker, a friend, has passed away suddenly in the night, and the whole world is upside down. But lately all I do is move from one catastrophe to the next and I don't know what it is I'm supposed to learn. My family is all together for the first time in years, but we're all walking around in our own private depression and I can't find a solution, not for me, not for them, not for anyone. I'm tired and I want to curl up in the fetal position and cry, but I don't know that I can cry anymore. Everyone thinks I'm so strong but on the inside I'm screaming for help. So here I am, Lord, listening for that still small voice to guide me through this mess. Otherwise I'll spend the rest of my days going in circles.
Like a bad penny.... We used to scuba dive as our hobby, a hobby which eventually led to the procurement/construction of a small dive trailer to haul four sets of gear and four cylinders. It was a simple but elegant design - a box on a single axle frame, with the beginnings of a mural painted on both sides, and dive flags at either end. The kids had helped paint it, with Stephen taking special pains with the sharks. When we moved to Nashville, we sold it. We didn't dive as often, and we had no place to store it. Nearly ten years have passed since that October in '99 when we came up here, and I hadn't thought much about the trailer. I thought I had seen it the last time we went to Greenfield, but I wasn't sure. Then Saturday my mother-in-law called to say the neighbor across the street had our trailer for sale. The neighbor was asking a certain price, and we offered a little less. She called back later to say it was ours for the picking up. Sunday we made the trip to fet...
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