Usually, by this time I

Usually, by this time I would be getting done on the ellliptical trainer at the YWCA. But I have a different schedule today, so I am a bit at loose ends. I have to go into work at 8:00 to fulfill my part of my plan for a database upgrade. When I made that plan, I was thinking that I would be coming from the YWCA to work. What I didn’t count on was that the YWCA on Saturdays and Sundays doesn’t open until 7:00. So that wasn’t enough time. I have showered and had breakfast here at home, both of which are things that I haven’t done for a long time. Breakfast has either been omelet at the cafeteria at work or a Naked Juice Protein and a Clif bar from the store.

And so I haven’t blogged in a while, either. That energy has been taken up with either the University of Saint Thomas graduate class in Software Project Management or studying for the PMP certification exam. I am in the mode for studying though, which is good.

Liam has come up from watching TV and is getting himself cereal Momentarily, Dorothea will be coming down and taking him to his first baseball practice. He is massively ambivalent about it, but willing to go. On a related note, Madeline has been doing track which is great. Clearly a social thing–don’t know if the running will continue after the season.

It is getting to be 4:30. Dorothea and I rode our bikes to the California Gallery in Northeast Minneapolis and looked at art from Brittany. Been waiting to hear back from the DBA.

Appropo of nothing except all the talk of how long U.S. troops should stay in Iraq, this is a picture of Minnesota troops boarding streetcars on their way to Manila in 1898.

manila_streetcar.jpg

Easter Bunny retired. I did

Easter Bunny retired.

I did nothing in the way of hiding Easter eggs. I don’t know if Dorothea did anything. Fifteen years seems like long enough.

I couldn’t remember if the YWCA was closed. Of course, it would be closed for Easter, but I couldn’t remember seeing any signs. That is always haunting to me, things appearing-disappearing-reappearing. I wasn’t sure. Of, course, when I turned the corner and saw that the parking lot was empty, it wasn’t a shock to see the sign “Closed on Easter Sunday” on the door, but here’s the other thing: I didn’t remember that I’d seen the sign.

That couple across the room from me at the coffee shop–the man and the woman, playing dominoes–they’re making a hell of a lot of noise. They have this bag–it looks like the size of a plastic shopping bag you’d get at a grocery store–filled with dominoes. They’re constantly handing the bag back and forth to each other, reaching into it, and stirring the dominoes around. That is the loud part. They could be husband and wife, brother and sister, AA. They look like they could pose for “American Gothic.” When they first sat down, the woman explicitly said that some topic of conversation was out of bounds. Later, she recanted. They both, if not looking at the dominoes, are looking off–up, to the side, but not at reach other.

Yesterday morning, I arrived here, Nina’s, after the YWCA, with no time constraints and The New York Times. There I was with my muffin “for here,” twenty-four ounce travel mug of half decaf, half dark roast with room, bottle of Naked Juice Protein, and there it was–the front-page, above the fold article about starving children in Africa. Arrgghh. Today’s is about coronary disease. Arrgghh. The guy in the article had lost forty-five pounds–at six-two, he was down from 278 to 232–certainly I can relate. He’s forty-four. He’d been at gym, lifted, and was on the elliptical trainer when he started to get chest pains. That’s me, man.

Then, in the article, arterial plaque and pimples are described. Ah-hemm. I am Mr. Plaque and Pimple, Mr. Cyst, Mr. Pus. That’s what’s on the outside of my body, anyway. Easy to believe that that’s what’s on the inside, too.

Finally, suddenly, unexpectedly, most recent

Finally, suddenly, unexpectedly, my most recent OCD pursuit got solved. As to often happens, seemingly without my intervention, even though I put probably eight hours into it. On Thursday, I paid $25 for a one-year subscription to thepmprepcast.com. This led me through a thicket of audible.com podcasts and Create Labs ZEN V Plus directions, firmware, drivers, and hard-to-find information–though not for a lack of information, oh no. When I got back from the YWCA this morning, the AudibleManager was offering me the option to download the programs, and I don’t think that was there before. These sort of things haunt me though. Maybe it was there? The mysterious appearance, disappearance, reappearance of things is a constant in my life.

So, I am going to strap on my ZEN V Plus and take the dog for a very, very cold walk.

Just back. Got a bit of Cornelius Fichtner, the pmprepcast guy. Cold. Stella is ready for a nap now. Listening to “If Not For You” from The Essential Bob Dylan. Ripping it, too, and putting on the ZEN.

The next obsession that I going to pursue is the transfer of the 600 questions and answers from the ESI Study Guide that I painstakingly typed into a Mediawiki wiki that I created at work last summer. I want to transfer them to schons.net so that I don’t lose them.

Random thought: I like the idea of writing into a blog better than sending email because I think that people can then read it more at their leisure, though that may not be the case.

Well, another support email, this time to livingdot.com (again.) I see in the server log mentions to index.php not existing, but seems to be there.

And I realized that I can go ahead and the pages from the PMP Quiz blog at work to schons.net/mediawiki, because the schon.net/mediawiki is up.

Warmer than Paris. For no

Warmer than Paris. For no particularly good reason, I have on my Google page the weather for Paris. Today, with the temperature in the 80s, we beat Paris by 10s of degrees Fahrenheit. I am sitting in my Project Management class where the teacher is going through Microsoft Project Manager, showing us how to use it, and I am losing my focus.

AIM Last Thursday, March 29,

AIM Last Thursday, March 29, Dorothea took me to a fundraiser–Native American, violence, battered women, shelter, that sort of thing. The event was held in the Shiela and Paul Wellstone Community Center on the Westside. She had gotten free tickets from Michelle, a friend who is now on the board of the above mentioned. It was a silent auction, dinner, that sort of thing. The dinner was over and the silent auction had just ended when we arrived. A magician was doing rope tricks. When he was done, a band called Red Pony played. Guitar, bass, drums, female singer. They were great. They ended their short set with a killer authentic version of Stormy Monday.

Sitting in the back of the room with Michelle and Dorothea, I first began to notice that there were quite a few men wearing jackets and t-shirts “American Indian Movement–Patrol” with the Indian profile with two fingers raised in a peace sign logo. Also darn authentic. There were several men, I noticed, who would make passable Dennis Hopper impersonators. Then—“hey, Michelle, is that what’s-his-name, Bellacourt?” “Clyde. Yes, he’s on the board.” Well, maybe one of those other guys was Dennis Hopper. Then I really began to hallucinate. Maybe that is Paul and Shiela. No! Fuck, they’re dead. The whole place is like a memorial to them.

At the Coffee Bene. I

At the Coffee Bene. I have wandered. I need to work on my PM class article review. I am on the verge of being ready to go. The new Zen is synchronizing. There is room for 405 songs on there. This kid is pointing at my table. Such life. Well, I am going to stay here for a few more minutes. Then it will have to be time to move.