Things

Isn't it a letdown when you see a hot movie star running like a third grade girl? This weekend, both Hugh Jackman and Ben Kingsley applied. Sir Kingsley, I'll excuse, because he's Gandhi, but Wolverine? Unforgivable. He's all duck-footed, arms flailing awkwardly. Or perhaps it's hard to run with Adamantium daggers sticking out of your knuckles?

This morning I made a fresh pot of coffee and poured in some cream only to see it congeal into tiny little sperm-like clumps. I dumped it down the drain, and started anew: clean cup, fresh pour of coffee, another pour of cream. Same thing. What gives? The cream wasn't sour. The coffee was fine yesterday. I'm still in the Northern Hemisphere. Why would it do that? I ended up chewing my way through it, but it was like a cement mixer with my toasted baguette.

Jim took the kids to his parent's cabin for the weekend and I watched two movies and read two books. It was really boring and quiet and awesome.

On Friday I had a discussion with Janet about the prohibitive cost of college, specifically private schools. At this point, I have no intention of encouraging my kids to apply to Yale. It just costs too much, and the debt incurred isn't worth it. But Janet pointed out that, unfortunately, the Ivy Leagues still get you that extra-special goose when you're looking for a job, and I sadly agreed. It's just not fair... but wait. I don't think I actually agree. Because that may be true for certain fields (academia? law? I don't know...), but I think it's really an east coast phenomena. While my degree got me a few raised eyebrows in Portland, it definitely didn't open any doors or do me any special favors. I couldn't even get a good alum contact to help me out. But I did have an engineering manager ask me in an interview, "So... you went to Yale, huh? Does that mean you think you're smarter than everyone else?" So yet another east coast/west coast disconnect. That, and asian food/italian food. And sidewalks.

I worked outside for about an hour today, clipping dead stuff and putting away hoses and all that. When I came in, all ruddy complected and refreshed, it would have been awesome if someone handed me a cider and rum and the Sunday crossword puzzle. But instead I tracked chicken shit across the kitchen floor and gagged down the rest of my congealed coffee. But in my mind it was different and I was still happy. So maybe that's the secret to life.