Notes from a Clean Desk

As I sit here at my desk on the Friday after Thanksgiving (a.k.a. Black Friday), I had the thought to post a blog entry. It’s a fairly slow day around there, to say the least. I cleaned my desk up some earlier but now I’m the only one here and just sitting around watching random videos on YouTube. I'm watching one of Hootie doing Desert Mountain Showdown at a concert. It’s pretty good stuff for a shaky hand-held camera. I’ve watched a lot worse than this.

I don’t post a lot on this thing, clearly, but it’s not for lack of thoughts and ideas. I have things run across my mind several times a day that I think would be good to talk about but I just never have the time, or make the time, to sit down and fully flesh them out. There aren’t enough hours in the day, it seems, and I don’t want to just throw something out there for the sake of making a blog entry.

If I can’t weave an intricate, layered story about whatever is on my mind, I don’t feel like it’s wroth it. I’m sure I’ve lost some cool ideas that way. I don’t want to just throw up a few lines about my day and call it done, a la Doogie Houser. Hey, who knew that was created by Steven Bochco and David E. Kelley? Interesting.

I guess I’ll try to not hold myself up to whatever funny standard I have and write more regular blog entries and see what happens. Maybe less is more. Less introspection, that is. Maybe none of the five or six people who read my post with the turtle crossing River Watch Parkway thought more about it than the face value anyway.

I did Thanksgiving at my sister Robin’s house in Spartanburg, SC (a.k.a. The Upstate) yesterday and it was good times. The highlight of the event was probably throwing the football with my three-year-old nephew in their front yard. He wasn’t so interested in the passing or catching parts of the game; he concentrated more on the kicking aspect. I’d tell him to go long and he’d run down and avoid the ball as it came sailing towards him. He would then kick it back to me. It usually took three or four kicks to make it back. I hit him w/ the ball once or twice when he wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way. “Hey! You hit me where I pee-pee!” he said once. I didn’t mean to, honest, it just kind of happened that way. :)

Well, I’m mailing it in and taking off from work early. Maybe I’ll post again sooner rather than later.