Indeed my sleep was...satisfying last night. Thank goodness.
Without going into full details, I'm generally tired right now. I'll catch up on my restfulness. This makes me think of a friend of mine who I won't name, who about ten years ago got out of a relationship that had been highly exhausting. He didn't realize how exhausting until the relationship ended: he spent a week sleeping 12-hour days. (That was the first good ending: him recharging. The later good ending was him meeting his lovely future wife soon after that. Go, him!)
Here's to recharging.
June 11th, 2008 -- today! -- is the 40th wedding anniversary of Tom and Bobbi Walsh. My parents.
They met in the early 1960s, when Mom was in seventh grade and Dad was in eighth. Mom's family, the Nelsons, had just moved from one NE Portland house to another, this one in the Concordia neighborhood and coincidentally right down the block from the Walshes. And sometime after that, Tom saw Bobbi (Roberta Nelson at the time) and thought Hey, she's pretty cute. And Roberta saw Tom around the same time and thought Hey, he's pretty cute. (These are imagined thoughts. I haven't actually asked Mom and Dad what they first thought of each other.) Dating happened. Their dating survived their attending rival schools (Mom's side of the street marked the east end of Jefferson High's district; Dad's side of the street was the west end of Grant High's district); their marriage survived my dad's 26 years in the Navy. (At his 1994 retirement ceremony -- yes he joined officer's school the same year they got married -- Mom cracked that "Usually by now a Navy guy's traded in his 40 for two 20s.")
Together they've raised two kids (me and my older brother T.J.), they've owned a bunch of houses, they've raised one pet (a Yellow Lab named Sophie, or "the 75-pound lap dog"), and they've kept each other laughing. They really are two smartasses who found each other
Dad? Mom? Happy anniversary. I'm so glad you each thought the other was pretty hot.
My mission, should I choose to accept it (which I did): update a list of possibly-hard-to-transcribe business names in Covington, Kentucky, right across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. So if Kentucky doctors dictating to my company's transcriptionists somehow make a reference to Devou Park, those transcriptionists don't type "Duhvoo Park" or something. Same with Hofbrauhaus not becoming "Off-Bra House."
Google is my friend. VERY MUCH my friend right now. So is the online Yellow Pages.