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Showing posts from December, 2012

Resolve.

It's been an odd year, I guess. If I say that every year, then what does a normal year consist of? I just read through my whole blogging year and although it didn't take me very long, due to a shameful lack of posts, I think it was pretty good. I did a little travel, a little car buying (get it? little?) and had some good times at work. Having reviewed last years 'end of the year' post I have concluded that I should read that post sometime in June. That way I can remember my 'resolutions' and maybe be inspired to tackle one or two of them. I did accomplish, finally, a throw back resolution and bought a super expensive fancy smallish flashlight for work. It is obnoxiously bright and I have already used it at work. Result! Also, I bought it at the Bean, so if it ever goes wrong, I'll get a new one for free. The Bible, the Torah, the Quran, and for fun, let's say the book of Mormon are all still unread. I went on only one first date and it was m

I am still learning

It's good in this biz to get a patient with something you've never seen before. It keeps you on your toes, reminds you to be humble, and gets you to dust off those old textbooks. I had a guy who very late in the day had a few too many beers to drink. He stumbled backwards off of his porch (I'd guess a couple of feet, though I never saw the porch) and got a pain in his back. But, he managed to brush himself off, sit back down on the porch and crack open another cold one. Less than an hour later, though, he started to feel short of breath. This is the part where I come in, finding him wandering through the back of his property nowhere near a house. (hence how I never even saw what he fell off of). He looked peculiar to say the least. Stumbling in the dark, he was caught by our headlights by chance. For a moment I thought I was in a zombie movie as we watched him grope for a hand hold that wasn't there while moaning between unintelligible words. We walked him to

Racecar

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This is a picture of my father, mild mannered historical nerd, pipe smoking type, driving a real NASCAR car. Stock car.  Race car.  Whatever you call it.  You know I don't know. For his landmark birthday, my mother bought him this racing experience.  I got to come along as staff photographer. It was really cool as we all got to hang out at the infield of the track and let our minds wrap around what it might feel like if all of those thousands of seats had fans in them.  Everyone doing the experience was very keen on nascar racing and my mother may have admitted too loudly that we had not actually ever seen a nascar race ever.  I, at least, have never watched more than a minutes worth of it.  I'm sorry, but I just don't get it.  I knew then, but even more so now, that there is more to stock car racing than turning left.  There's turning left and driving really fast in between.  And sitting in a really uncomfortable position for several hours.  I wonder now if profession