The long legs of Maureen have finished the longest legs of her journey. She's between her parent's house and Sioux City and here the remaining bit of her journey.
Not that I was exceedingly worried about her safety for most of the trip, but I've been through some of the places she was going and I didn't feel safe.
To be fair, regardless of gender, a 6-foot 26-year-old is going to have more confidence in Theresnoescapeville, Montana than a ten year old aspiring urban slacker, which is what I was when I passed through. Anyhow, she's back on a path that we've all beaten the hell out of and I'll see her soon enough.
Which leads me to my next tricky management situation. She gets back the same day as professional football.
The Giants-Redskins game counted as much as talking to her on the phone. Nice, but no replacement for the real thing.
Scott rolled into town on Wednesday night. His sister's getting married tomorrow. I've been invited (by him) to the reception, but I'm not going to go unless I'm can remember his sister's name without coaching. It would be weird.
I've spent the last two days trying to think of it, fruitlessly.
Somehow typing out the once-removed graf made me remember, I think. Maybe. Is it Kari, or some phonetic variation thereof?
Regardless, I don't know if a reception (near my house though it may be) is what I need.
Anyhow. A recent work project may have made me re-evaluate my position on The Police.
The future will tell. Me right now, not so much.
Considering I promised that this blog would be more focused than my previous efforts, I'm going to pack it in. I don't have anything major rolling through my brain right now, and I don't want to ruin the ongoing housewarming party by overstaying my welcome.
Happy Friday night to those that are still enjoying it, none of whom are near me.
j.
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