I hate to be whiny, but I had to vent somewhere; no one at my house to share with except the dog. I won’t be offended if y’all TL/DR this…

2021 has been quite a circus for me. January was good, insofar as after 11 months of working at it, I was able to transfer from the construction division back to where I belong in environmental cleanup, as of 31 Jan. My official title is now “Hydrogeologic Conceptual Site Model Project Manager.” Fancy! The big thing that has come up in my 8 year absence doing construction is this emergent contaminant called PFOS/PFOA, which was used in firefighting foam for decades, and which environmental folks will use to extend their perceived usefulness for another decade or two. That shit was used at the fire training areas at ALL the bases, and is toxic, and is contaminating groundwater both on and off base. So I’ll be working that until I retire or die. I’m supervising the cleanup of this new contaminant as well as drinking water supplies at Fairchild AFB WA, Malmstrom AFB MT, Mountain Home AFB ID, Joint Base Maguire/Dix/Lakehurst NJ, Moody AFB GA, and Robins AFB GA. I went to college 35 years ago with the guy I’m replacing, he’s been one of my best friends ever since, so the turnover is pretty painless. He’s the same age as me and is retiring at the end of July. So far it looks like a Maytag Repairman type job to me, which is just fine for running out the career clock.

One of the conditions of my transfer was that I had to see a couple of my construction projects across the finish line, but they are both having all kinds of problems and it’s dragging out and driving me crazy.

It looks like the nerve damage to my feet may be permanent. I can’t get around very well for very long, but am still able to take care of the necessary things without any help (grocery, liquor store, wine bar, rolling the trash barrel out to the street, etc). I don’t know if anyone here remembers the pics I posted of my 64 Corvette Roadster and my 65 Impala SS. The feet thing has effectively made it so I can’t do any of the real work needed to put the Impala back on the street, so I hired this restoration shop to put it back together and they will go forward with the “restoration” of the car; they picked it up today and for the first time in 2 years my Lexus lives in the garage again. Because of my feet, I can no longer confidently drive a manual, so I’m working with the same shop to try and work out a deal to send the Vette to a new home. Only 15 miles from my house… http://www.valorrestorations.com/home.html

I was notified last Friday by my pool man of 8 years that he’s retiring, and so now I’ve got to find a suitable replacement. Fuck! He was an independent, and I think he really undercharged me (he never asked for a raise, though I gave him several myself over the years unprompted). So, I expect I will be paying more once I get someone lined out. At least my Honduran exchange student is still going strong on cutting the lawn and other handyman tasks around the estate.

I had to go to a funeral for a co-worker’s wife last week, that’s never fun, especially when the person is the same age as you. She was diagnosed with cancer in January and made it through the end of May (she decided not to go through with chemo or other treatments). The church that it was held at is 4/10ths of a mile from my house, so it would have been a real dick move not to attend. The last suit I bought was several years ago when I weighed 100 lbs more than I do now, so I went in nice work clothes so I didn’t look like a sack of potatoes or Donald Trump (it’s even blue, though I have no red tie…). Fortunately, I was not the most casually dressed among the attendees.

Old navy buddy of mine called me out of the blue last month, hadn’t seen or spoken with him since I went to Seattle in 2009. It was nice to do a little reminiscing and bagging on our mutual shipmate that turned into a real RWNJ. Despite the guy’s politics, I have to give him credit for turning me on to Oingo Boingo back about 1983 or so… He’s a Seahawks fan, so we have had some interesting text conversations over the years. ?w=500&h=279&zoom=2

About a half dozen of the trees in my yard, all non-native, are not leafing out since the big freeze. They are not completely dead, and the tree surgeon suggested waiting a year to see if they recover before calling in the chain saw squad.

I’m really glad I am able to WFH, and will be able to continue to do so through at least the fall. My old chow mix has really bad arthritis and it’s painful to watch her try to get around. But as long as I’m home to look after her and she isn’t shitting or pissing in the house, it’s a stay of execution. I really don’t feel like going through the whole puppy training thing and keeping a dog in the fence and not getting out and killing the neighbor’s chickens and goats. When Gertrude shuffles off this mortal coil, I reckon I’m going to have to hunt for a middle aged dog at the shelter. But I will have to have a dog or I will lose my sanity sitting in this giant house by myself (3300 sf, I’m like a BB in a boxcar).

I’m not even going to talk about coups and insurrections and shit.