Stephanie loved The Bangles when she was little. I remember her dancing goofy to "Walk Like an Egyptian." God she was a cute kid. I am so proud of her, except for ultimate horror that she grew up a Beaver fan.
I woke up late this morning. My alarm didn't go off, and I finally woke up in a panic at 6:50, too late to catch my normal train. I threw on my clothes, doubled-timed it to the station and caught the 7:05, which got me to Mt. Hood station by 7:20. I left an old pullover on the train because I didn't want to be weighed down with it, and starting running when I stepped off the car, cutting through the dew-soaked field and through the golf course, running most of the way in my slacks and polo shirt, anxiously checking the clock on my cell phone as I went. I slowed to a walk in a few spots to catch my breath, and I made it to work with seven minutes to spare. Luckily I had some dry clothes in my filing cabinet. I didn't want to get an "occurrence" as they are called, on the day I announced I wasn't relocating to Oak Harbor. My supervisors were understanding and wished me luck. A lot of the staff is struggling with the decision. They have spouses and parents, and children in school. Some are tied down by their house in a down market, or their spouse's job, or an affection for the Portland area. Portland is a wonderful town, a town where people build lives and memories, and it is beautiful here. One of the glories of Portland is that it is a couple hours drive from almost anything, the beach, the desert, the mountains, farmland or good Chinese food. People love it here, and you get used to the rain. I hardly notice it except on the heaviest days, and I have a 45 minute walk to work.
I'm having the worst luck at the poker tables right now. Tonight I lost an 11,000 pot with pocket aces versus an ace and a jack. My opponent called me all in with a pair of jacks on the flop. I baited him with a small bet, he raised me for information and I raised him all in, a perfect read, but he turned another jack, a two card out. I'd been playing with great discipline and waited for the perfect opportunity, but the cards just didn't go my way. Jacks haunt me these days. The other day I flopped a set of tens and got an opponent all in with king-jack, a pair of jacks, and he turned a king and rivered another jack for a full house over my full house, a ghastly perfect two-card runner for 5900 chips. It's awful to lose that way. It feels like having three smart, funny, beautiful daughters, and having them all turn out to be Beaver fans, and raising their adorable children to be Beaver fans too. I sing Ethan the Duck fight song on the sly whenever I can, but I really don't have a chance. His mother nurses him and fills his ear with Beaver nonsense, and how can I compete with that? Sometimes you have to accept small losses, no matter how crushing. Sometimes it's impossible to win.
Marie and I did get our tax stimulus check tonight, and I gave Richard my 30-day notice. Part of keeping your word, although we could have used the extra $422. Marie thinks she's found a decent place in Raleigh Hills near the Fred Meyers. I told her as long as she was happy with it, I would agree.
I think I'll go to bed early tonight. I had the last of my leftover Thanksgiving turkey for supper, and I feel like curling up in a warm bed after a wet walk home. I'm pleased I didn't waste any of my leftovers; I hate it when food gets wasted. It's almost a crime against humanity to waste food, or to not appreciate the enormous blessing good, plentiful food really is. It's the small things we forget. We fail to realize they are not small at all.
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