Just as I was caffeinating so I could be coherent at an early morning meeting, the meeting was cancelled. Should have stayed up later and played last night. But every cloud has a silver lining. Used the abrupt change in schedule to get in a very nice swim. Now I’m sitting up home watching things spin around. Spinning words onto paper. Spinning whites and colors until they’re country fresh. Some possible site ideas are spinning around the frontal cortex. But first and foremost, I’m really enjoying watching the dog spin himself in pursuit of that elusive tail.

Well, Saddam might not be getting a party, but he’s not the only psychotic celebrating his natal anniversary this week.
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Chocolate Pecan Pie.

The long week is ending on an up note. A little bit of work, some new business from an old client, some good surfing and a bit of reading and napping on the beach have got me this far. The new read is American Gods by Neil Gaiman; so far it’s very good. There’s work if I want to do it this weekend, but no pressing needs and so far (knock on wood) no fires to put out. It’s a nice feeling as I slide through the Friday afternoon.

Now that Saddam’s weapons of mass destruction have been destroyed dealt with removed from the headlines, very anxious to see how we’ll respond to the other Axis of Evil member, the one who admits he has nuclear bombs. But are they truly evil if they don’t threaten oil supplies? Can they be full members of the Axis if they don’t release tell-all video tape to MSNBCNBCNNFOX? Perhaps most importantly, having whiffed the slow-and-easy pitches on Osama and Saddam, will Bush take a third swing at getting that head-on-a-silver-platter he so desperately needs to keep his job?

Wednesday’s almost over so it’s all downhill from here, right. Got up way before five this morning so I could do all the morning stuff before heading out at six. Pongo seemed very confused by it all; it’s not very often I’m trying to wake him up. Had to be in Orange County (85 miles from doorstep to courthouse) for an 8:30 appearance and know that there’s no way to accurately predict traffic for such a long stretch of California freeway.

As it was, traffic was very light except for some congestion where the Border Patrol glorious Department of Homeland Security slowed us down to look at cars near Camp Pendleton. Apparantly the ancient truck driven by a spaced-out half asleep attorney was not a threat to national security and thus could be easily waved through.

Got back in the early afternoon in time to knock out a few laps and get ready for some meetings later in the week, except when Diablo II reached out from the hard drive to suck me into its wanton mayhem. Diable seems to be winning, because the work is far from done and I’m posting here while waiting for my pizza delivery. For years I’d thought Civ was the ultimate threat to my little practice, but a new evil has emerged. Maybe it’s the fact that every network and newssite around has been broadcasting Civ as a reality show for the last few months. Conquering the weak gets old; time to move on and slaughter the different.

The big guy isn’t getting it. It’s almost 8:00 and he’s got contract drafts spread out all over the living room. Doesn’t he realize that it’s Pongo time? I brought him a sock to play with and he seemed interested for a while, but he doesn’t seem to be able to focus. And he says I’m the one with a brain the size of a walnut.

Sure, he’s got a lot of work to do. Sure, he needs to make money to support my lifestyle. Old Mother Hubbard’s don’t come cheap, and I’m not going back to those Milkbone-brand things. A dog’s got to have some standards.

After failure with the sock, I tried dragging out something more interesting. The dress shirt was weighted down by the gym bag, so I couldn’t get that out of the bedroom laundry pile. He just ignored me when I dug some jockey shorts out, even though they’re one of his favorite pair. Maybe there’s something more interesting in that box on the far side of the bed, but it’s hard for me to get at. I think that’s why he keeps it there. I won’t try it tonight, but I’ll keep it in mind if his mood doesn’t change soon.

I guess I’ll just have to curl up and lick myself until he gets through this end of the mood-swing pendulum. I know that deep down inside he still loves me.

This (April 21-27) is Adbusters’ TV Turnoff week. [via MikeMedia].

No support for such efforts here. What would the world be like if the perky blonde didn’t save it every morning? How would Pongo get through the day without his dose of porn from Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel? We need our mind control box, no matter how evil it may be. *spoken in a monotone voice with glazed-over eyes*

Well, kind of work, considering the hours aren’t billable and the venture is far from profitable. And really only part of Sunday since I spent the morning out with friends. But the shop over at the other blog is now much better stocked and much more pretty, thanks to some mundane graphics work backed up by brilliant PHP coding by yours truly.

Good water stays in the pool. Good water is at the beach and in the rivers and lakes. Good water makes little ice cubes that tinkle in an appropriate drink. Good water makes the fountain, well, fount.

Bad water comes out of the sky on days when you had plans. Bad water obscures my view. Bad water belies the myth that I don’t need new windshield wipers because I live in SoCal.

Too much bad water in my life today.