Missing The Conversations...

I do miss the back-and-forth we used to have in the old Daynoter group.  Far too many of those gentlemen have passed away, while others, I've just flat out lost contact.

And to be fair, it's not like we were lifelong deeply involved friends.  We had some back and forth chitchat on line, and ... well, yeah.

I do hope they're all doing as well as possible.  I owe many of them a great debt of thanks for accepting and tolerating my ... well, stupidity, generally.

Beyond that, not much else going on around here.  

We did go out to dinner on Saturday evening for the first time in ... well, pretty much over a year.  We've had takeout many times over the past fourteen months, but the food just isn't the same.  This time, we went out to have dinner again with my son's fiancee's parents.  They are good people, really good, decent folks.  And her father has hit his goal and is retiring, and moving - and so they're packing up and loading up and getting ready to head off into ... well, the sunrise.  They're moving east.  And far, far south.  

So we've got that big split coming up, and it's probably going to take some adjustments. 

But other than that, I'm getting to a point where I'm most likely going to try to hold on a few more months at my current employer before shopping resumes.  The company is doing very well, and I cannot and should not complain.  I'm just right at the ragged edge of burning out, and I really need to find some way to manage that.  And if I end up doing another four months of over time every single week, I'm not going to make it long after that.  I know, it's ... beyond ironic when I came from a job where the word Overtime caused management to ... convulse, and here I am working 50-55 hours a week.  And I'm done with it.  Starting this week, I'm cutting back to 45 hours a week, which is our current mandatory minimum.  I do not feel particularly guilty about this, because, honestly, I've worked myself pretty close to burnout, and it's time I start taking a step back.  

I do no one any favors if I kill myself, and here I am working on my ass 55 hours a week and bitching about it.

Now if that isn't ironic, my dictionary gave me a pretty messed up definition.

I mean, by the end of the work weak, I am so beaten down and exhausted I simply cannot even think about woodworking or any other fun projects for me.  And that, well, that's not good.  All work and no ... relaxation, play, or fun makes me ... well, unpleasant.  To put it mildly.

Why's that?  Well, I have some ideas I want to explore and consider when it comes to my woodworking.  

In brief, I have the opportunity to acquire a pretty nice tool for ... well, fire sale prices is a fair description.  No, I'm not screwing anyone.  The young man has the tool, has no need or interest in keeping the tool, was simply going to throw it out.  It works fine, he does not need it - so I'll pay him to take it off his hands, I'll even pick it up.  

And if this comes through, I will then get to work building a stand for my new miter saw.  Also known as a Chop Saw, it's a quick, small, easy-to-use and fairly accurate power tool.  With it, I can do a lot more in woodworking.

And the thought and plan is that if I stay at my current employer and get the possible new position I've applied for, I may very well end up working from home.  And if that happens, my plan is to upgrade my current "work from home" desk to something that is far more ergonomicly suited for me.  And the chop saw and table saw I already have will make that a great deal easier.  

But first, I need to spend time in the garage cleaning it out and up and getting some of the lumber I have out there turned into finished projects.  My current "need to get this one done" job is a pair of bookshelves.  Simple, non-Ikea sorts that do not rely on manufactured wood, but rather are specifically sized and designed to fit in an ideal spot on a stair landing.  I'm planning on building two 23 3/4" wide by 72" tall by 5 3/4" deep bookshelves.  Why?  Because I have a heck of a lot of paperback books.  As does my wife.  And they all tend to conform to that particular size, so I can build a bookshelf that will hold those, and only those, and quite possibly I might be able to get all of my old friends out of their boxes and onto shelves where they can breathe, relax, and provide me the enjoyment they did for a long, long time.  And maybe even continue to inspire me to take some of the ideas and tales I tell myself into something that might amuse and please others.  Maybe.  Some day.  I can hope.

But it will also require I spend a hell of a lot less time getting paid for my time.  If that makes sense to anyone besides me.

So anyway, may your Monday be peaceful, free of worries and threats, and may you never get your extendible adjustable back-scratcher caught under your suspenders.  The things you learn when you expected something else.  Ah, well.  Experience.  Live and learn, or you don't live long.  

G'nite.