Thursday, March 24, 2005

Deadline Day

As mentioned in my 3/2 blog, I had until today to find a position in my company, or I was going to be unemployed. Someone is taking care of me. Thank you God. Yesterday, the company we had presented to last week told us we got their business, and I'm leading up that team. So, I'm on to something new and energizing, and my employment is rock solid. Phew.

And, because of the threat of leaving my company, I had developed some interesting ideas on how to make money. A couple are viable even with full time employment, so I'm looking forward to doing some of that in my spare time to see where it takes me. Or, better, what it brings me (in terms of $). I shouldn't be greedy though, since my wife and I are compensated very fairly for our work. But, the things I had started are really fun, so it's more a labor of love than a money making scheme.


My son, Grady (4 1/2 years old) is really into exploring heavy topics. His longest-running topic is death. I try to steer him away from that, but it just fascinates him, and, besides, it teaches him about heaven. Today in the car, he asked out of the blue,

"Dad, do worms go to worm heaven?"

I answered after a long pause, "Yes, Grady, every living creature is able to go to
heaven." This was partly defensive, because if I had said there was no
worm heaven, he would have extrapolated it to asking why Coltrane, our old
dog who now lives with my sister, wouldn't get to go to heaven.

"What does the Worm God do for them, Dad?"

Another long pause. "The Worm God gives them never ending rich,
dark soil to live in."

That seemed to satisfy him, and he thankfully skidded off to another topic. He narrated with crazy accurate details an injury I sustained during a softball playoff game at which he was present in August 2003. This kid has an unbelievable memory. I mean, he was not even 3 at the time, and here he is 19 months later remembering every last detail of it. I wish he'd apply that memory to some of his school lessons.

Just realized that last statement was totally my dad. Whenever my sister or I would recite a commerical jingle or some other pop trivia, my dad was liable to pipe in with, "I wish you'd remember your math as well."

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