Just kinda drifting here.  Work (billable hours) and coding (unbillable hours for a good cause) and waiting for the washing machine to get repaired (the personal gratification of clean undies).  Can you guess which is highest in my priority list?

Just hanging out.  Client files and some important things, like clean undies and the iPod, are down in the truck.  Casa is a bit less than a mile from the northern edge of the evacuation zone, but 60 mile per hour winds seem to be moving that line around pretty quick.  Since we’re out of the zone and the official line is to stay off the highways unless being evacuated, we wait.  Watch the news, surf the net and wait. 

Can’t see the flames any more, but only because the smoke is too thick.  Pretty sure the fire’s still out there.  Waiting for us to get relaxed.  Lurking around the bend in the highway.  Waiting for me to do something that would take more than ten minutes to shut down.  Bad fire.

Spending my time playing telephone tag and trying to figure out if I’m settling or defending a paternity case (not me or mine) tomorrow morning.  Much rather settle, but someone seems to have a need to vent, and I’m not having any of that.  Tell it to the judge.  And while we’re at it, how ’bout safe sex next time kiddies?  Much rather just be working on the fight over the property and debt.

 In the meantime, thirty ways to a happier life [via WWDN].  My favorites:

2. Let go of your need to make all the choices all of the time.  Other people have better ones sometimes.
9. Own a car that doesn’t own you.  There may be no bigger waste of stress than worrying about the looks of a car.  Let it go.
21. Whoever makes you happy most of the time, that’s “the one.”
25. Treat yourself to nice underwear.  Life is too short.
28. Don’t be too afraid of “street meat.”

August 9 is National Underwear Day, and as the National Prostate Cancer Coalition keeps reminding me, my disease’s advocacy group is sponsoring this major marketing effort.

Notice they’re smart enough to use models for the public effort – if they threw a lot of us actual prostate cancer survivors into whitey tighties and marched us around town, I think that somehow the public sentiment would be for quarantine along the line of leper colonies, not more research or greater awareness.

Even though it’s been years since I’ve gone a day without thinking about prostate cancer, I’ll be wearing underwear most of tomorrow, and I’ll go ahead and claim a higher purpose in doing it. There may be pictures from our private celebration of the holiday here in San Diego, or maybe not, but until tomorrow, proof that Chuck sometimes wears underwear. If you need proof that Chuck has a prostate, go here.