Prodigal Blogger

The doors are open. The tables are clean. Your bartender is back, behind the bar where he belongs.

The Lounge is open for business.

Changes have been made. Adjustments. Fine tuning.

The boy was born, and is doing well. 10 fingers and 10 toes, while exceptionally long, have all been accounted for. He has a voracious appetite, or, perhaps, he just likes boobs.

I have a new job. The old one will end with the month of May. I will miss my co-workers. Well, some of them at least. I have made good friends there. I will not miss the billable hours. I will not look fondly back at justifying my existence with .1's and .2's.

The new job will involve getting, at the very least, a motorcycle safety course and a motorcycle endorsement. With luck, it will involve the acquisition of an actual bike.

I know! Stop laughing!

And speaking of the DMV, fuck them. In fact, fuck the entire Oregon Department of Transportation. It's now three minutes past midnight, May 28. As of three minutes ago, I am off restriction. See, due to a small series of unfortunate events, I was able to rack-up three minor moving violations in 18 months. So, in its wisdom, the Oregon DMV restricted my driving privileges between the hours of 12 a.m. to 5 a.m., from April 27 to May 27.

And let me tell you, I've learned my lesson!

Lastly, my grandfather is still in steady decline. As there will be a two-week gap between the old job and the new one, the entire G&T family will be traveling to the Southland for the first week in June for a visit. (Thanks to Fred for tending to the homestead and shepherding the animals while we're away.)

The focus of the trip will be the pre-bucket-kicking party my family is throwing for Granddad. What's the sense in waiting until after you're gone to throw a wake?

For my friends who still live in that godforsaken land, I would love to see you. Well, except for Tom. (I still have that restraining order...) I'm thinking: Bar-B-Q... We'll see.

OK, Words words words...

Here come the pictures:

Here is the Girl in her Oscar the Grouch Fairy Ensemble. My kid will kick your kid's ass in a bare-knuckle throw-down cute-match any day of the week.

Don't hate Scarlett just because she is so insanely extra-spectacularly sexy.

This is a photo that I took on Saturday of a Smoked Trout Loaf. Read tomorrow's blog entry, and learn more about it...