Gas

Scientists have discovered the presence of methane on Mars, confirming what I've longed believed: that there are cows hidden beneath the red planet's surface.

*

I pulled the Boss inside and begged, during the slow winter hours, to come up with a training manual for new employees.

This, you see, would serve a twofold purpose. They would have to actually train me, one. And, two, I would include the new part numbers.

As some of you who follow this blog know, we changed metal suppliers two years ago, but everyone still calls the parts by the number assigned by the old manufacturer.

After, to my surprise, gaining his assent, and his computer, I fired off a message to Billy: "The old ways are dead. Here comes Goo Goo the Sheriff."

From out in the warehouse, I heard him scream. "Goo Goo the Sheriff! Shegooo. Shegooooooo. SHUGOOOOOOO!"

And, for the rest of the day, he called me Shugoo. Apparently, I have a new nickname.

*

My glasses broke again. The glue no longer holds. I called up Lenscrafters, to see if they would release my prescription to me, since I lost it. With little effort and much kindness on their part, it was faxed to my work immediately, where the Boss, despite being warned it was coming, immediately transferred it to the recycled paper bin. I figured this might happen, and knew where to look when it wasn't in its place.

I'm going to try to find a website where I can buy inexpensive glasses, the type they give you in the military. And these will serve me well for all practical purposes.

*

Oddness. I wrote previous about my Tony Hawk hoodie (Billy calls him Anthony Hawk), which turned out to be a perfect warehouse uniform in terms of fit and comfort. For my birthday, she gave me a handknitted scarf. It was the sort of present I would have been embarassed by in years past, but, as with the sweatshirt, it has turned out to be unexpectedly useful, as I can switch it from open to tight around the neck or even up around my ears as the warehouse temperate fluctuates dramatically. Because of the position of the docks, the temp can drop from about 65 to about 15 in seconds. Frozen sweat. Unpleasant! The scarf works wonders.

*

In yesterday's post I mentioned Jess's special number, 34. Well, ahem. The powerball was, in fact, 34, and we netted ten beans, having hit the powerball three times, once with an added nonpowerball number.

"I can't believe it," the Boss said. We have tons of 34's."

Jess texted and asked me if I believe her now.

"It sure is weird," I wrote back. I realized this wasn't enough and added an additional "lllllooooooovvvvveeeeeee" moments later, to save my sorry ass.

*

The mystery of Jerry, or Gerry, has been solved. His name was indeed Gerry and he was one of my first students at Mass BJJ when I first started the beginner's program there. He was probably among the first five students I trained.

He wasn't an electrician. He works for an HVAC contractor and thought he saw me in the building when he was picking up parts.

I owe someone a bag of mushrooms.

*

Met Anthony for coffee after work. He's brewing his own sake and suggested he might write about his experiences online. I guess the big trick is to keep the rice heated to 86 degrees Farenheit for three days, without the rice drying out.

We talked about writing. He, too, is working on a book. As for the rest of the conversation, with topics ranging from eccentric artist geometers to the semiotics of feces to Axl Rose, we'll leave that as a conversation between friends. Mostly because I don't want any artist geometers showing up at my house and blasting me into the second dimension where, I'm told, the food is much, much worse. All the good stuff requires a wholesome dollop of time.

*

I have a few notes for the novel. Dinner? Done. Blog? Done, almost. A little shower and a little writing and I just might have Jess time before the night enfolds us all.