Vol. 2, No. 1

If this blog posts at 6:38 PM as planned it will be exactly 56 years (or 29,453,760 minutes) since I came slimy, squirming and squalling into this world.  As I mentioned 4 weeks ago, I am now 8 in dog years (or to use the logic of my first blog the new 33 years 7 months 9 days.)  OR one year closer to the grave, or a day older than I was yesterday.

In case I haven't mentioned it, I'm gettin' old.  They say memory is the second thing to go.  I've reached the point where I think of something I want to look up, so I open a new browser tab to Google it, and by the time the tab opens I can't remember what it was I wanted to Google.  Long term memory is a different situation.  Retrieval is not reliable, but there's crap in there I wish I could delete.  Just this week, while discussing Star Trek a co-worker mentioned the actor Scott Bakula.  Bubbling up from that fetid cauldron I call Long Term Memory came Eisenhower and Lutz.  I won't inflict the rest on you, I'll just leave it for you to Google.  (If you can remember.)

I have repeatedly promised to come up with something worth reading to put here.  I am about to despair of that ever taking place.  I've had 8 days since posting my last blog, and I actually started writing this one at 11:01 AM on the day it's "due."  I haven't changed.  I actually did my first draft on the 4th, but that was just how long it will be from today until the first day I can retire.  Creative prioritization.

Oh, I almost forgot my Out of Context Quote of the Week:  (how long do I really think I can keep this up?  I think it should be an occasional feature.  Anyway, it's really a runner up from last week.  Okay, it came in after the deadline.  Anyway, here goes.)
"... or get off the pot."

(Of course you know the quote, it's the context that makes it.  And I can't give you that.  But I can amuse myself.  It's my birthday.)

Anyway, I can retire in 659 days.  You kids get off my lawn.

667 Days

I don't know if I can wait that long.  Whenever I announce my time remaining I find myself saying "three hundred" instead of "six hundred."  Think that's Freudian?  (My Boss pointed out that tomorrow it will be 666 days.  Is that an omen?) If I do manage to stick it out, I give the credit to the strength I draw from the first entry in a new feature of this blog, which I do now hereby institute:

My Out of Context Quote of the Week:

"What a bunch of pinheads."

Unfortunately, I will never be able to give context to that quote, but I take great comfort in it.  

Next Saturday will be the anniversary of my first blog post, so next week I blog on Saturday.  I plan to set it to publish at 6:38 PM (for reasons of my own, if anyone's counting.)

Anyway, I can retire in 1 year, 9 months, 27 days.  Get off my lawn.

Time is depressing

Einstein said it's relative.  He's probably right.  I know time spent with relatives passes slowly.  (I'm actually blogging this last week, so how's that for relativity?  And I almost forgot to post it.  How's that for stupid?)

But back to depressing:  You've probably figured out that I'm using an online calculator to figure out how long (1 year, 10 months, 3 days) it is until I can retire.  It's a pretty cool website:  

http://www.timeanddate.com.

Problem is, there are a lot things you can calculate.  Big time waster.  Time I could be wasting looking at kitties or dancing hamsters.  Last week (or a couple of minutes ago, time is relative after all) when I was calculating times for all my April blogs, I noticed a link on the page labelled "Find when you are 1 billion seconds old."  So of course I did.  1989.  I passed a billion and a half in 2004.  I'll hit 2 billion on 9/11/2020.  If I live that long.

You probably think that's morbid thinking.  Let me show you morbid.  My Dad passed away several years ago at the age of 80.  His older sister preceeded him, also at the age of 80.  Their ages at death were so close, I thought I'd check on how close.  I was able to get my Dad's dates from an internet obituary, but I couldn't find hers.  (It seems to me that when we paid for her funeral they said we had a "perpetual" internet memorial.  I'm going to look into that.  Anyway, I was able to determine that my Dad lived 29,338 days.  On Sunday, August 23, 2037 I will be the same age as my father.  If I live that long.

So you kids get off my lawn.  I can retire in 674 days.  If I live that long.

Happy Birthday, Puppy Dog

   
This is Alexia.  I call her Lexi.  I thought I had a picture of her face, but I guess she moved.  It was just a blur.  She turned 12 on Monday.  (I took the picture on her birthday, before leaving for work.) Since Bandit has been getting all the blog time, I thought it was time to Lexi got some attention.  They tell me the odds of her being with us another 12 years are pretty slim, but I choose not to believe that.  She's a good dog.  As I point out to my wife, we probably could ask for a better one, but that would just be greedy.

I have a birthday in 3 weeks (and a day) myself.  I'll be 8 in dog years.  (She's smarter than me too.)

On another subject, my friend Eric's project, the first authorized graphic novel of Robert A. Heinlein's work, has been successfully funded on Kickstarter:
 

    http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ergignac/robert-a-heinleins-citizen-of-the-galaxy-graphic-n
 

There was 10 Grand left to go 4 days before the deadline.  I put my $100 where my mouth was, and the next time I looked it was funded.  Can I take credit for that?

Anyway, I can retire in 681 days, so you kids get off my lawn.  (Go read a book.)