South Georgia females such as myself are poor judges of ice and snow. It was so much easier to declare any daytime icky weather as grounds for a snow day. So although I spent the last week at my mountain home near the shop which I allegedly run, it seems that less than thirty hours were actually spent next to the cash register.
Thanks to the baby Jesus and old man Buddha for my wonderful employees, Beth and Julie.
We were lazy as housecats all week, watching movies and eating the weird stuff which lingers around the kitchen until a storm. Bubba burgers with couscous and Claxton fruitcake for dessert. We watched Jesus Camp and campy erotica followed by Disney's Aladdin, Woodstock and Breakfast at Tiffany's (not all on the same day, which could induce a schizophrenic psychotic reaction).
And now... reality has returned back in Georgia. I listened to the dismal news on NPR all the way down south - global warming, the Iraqi civil war, the Bush administration's sabre-rattling over Iran. My daughter's truck is broken down in a parking lot. I have four subjects to approach for an interview. I need to decide on some kind of newish car. Taxes. Bookkeeping. Repairs.
But there's a Las Vegas trade show in just a little over a week. "Trade show" is code for "tax-deductible vacation", in case you didn't know.
NTD
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