Thursday, October 29, 2009

Vacation Within a Vacation

Written 29 October, 2009

Vacation Within a Vacation

My regular readers know I have been away from home for an extended visit with Sweetie. I arrived on 3 September and will be going home around the 5th of December.

Since Sweetie and I are usually (except when she has to go to work) within 3 feet of one another, we've not been online together. I log on for a good part of the day most days, but I seem to have SL ennui and mostly stand around Whimsy marveling at how beautiful it is and waiting for the Tiny Empires chime to ring.

Last week Sweetie and I took a vacation together; we journeyed to Cape Cod, where we spent seven days lounging around a roomy suite in a beautiful bed and breakfast. We were at a conference, where I was the honored invitee, but mostly we laid around in our room or in the hot tub or walked about shopping or going out to eat with friends. It was great!

I have a pretty nice digital camera, but I just haven't been able to mount much enthusiasm for it, and so never put the batteries in it. Sweetie, however, fired up her very nice Sony camera and has some shots and I will post them here in the next day or so.

We're back into our routine. I rise with Sweetie and make her breakfast and a lunch to take on her daily battle to save civilization from the unstylish. Then I go back to bed or play on the computer or read or take a walk or, some days, take her to work and go shopping or exploring with her car. Such a hard life!

Photos coming soon.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Sweetie's Secret Secret Mission


Written 12 October, 2009

Sweetie's Secret Secret Mission

When Sweetie told me she had to drive to Washington, D.C., I of course assumed she was on a secret mission.

She's almost always on a secret mission. You know the drill. Smuggle English throwing scones to the troops in Afghanistan. Kidnap and shave Taliban fighters (she says it makes for a better fashion statement). Knock out a North Korean nuclear reactor with exploding lipsticks. Have Karl Rove stuffed and mounted.

But it turns out her mission that Monday was so secret she couldn't tell even me.

Fortunately, I had hidden a clever little listening device in her purse; it was disguised as a compact.

I shouldn't have bought it at Radio Shack. Transmissions were garbled. This is the best I can reconstruct what she said. I have presented it in Second Life IM format. I think she was dictating a mission report to someone-- but then she often refers to herself in the third person, so who knows what was going on in her head...

Sweetie: First, you must understand this is top secret and you shouldn't be listening to it, whoever you are. I'm watching you! Second, this is NOT Sweetie talking. You are absolutely mistaken if you think it is.

Sweetie: Day 1219 since rez day. Mission report.

Sweetie:
It was going splendidly.

Sweetie: Security was tight.

Sweetie: but Sweetie cammed into mission control, found a seat, and sat in it.

Sweetie: She smiled blandly at the controller next to her and gestured to the tag on her security pass.

Sweetie: "Lunar aesthetics coordinator," she said. "Special assignment."

Sweetie: What is the Department of Lunar Aesthetics?

Sweetie: Oh, we just tweak things slightly here and there to keep the big picture in mind.

Sweetie: What big picture?

Sweetie: So happy you asked. Over the course of the next twenty or so missions we have a top secret conspiratorial plan approved at the highest levels...

(by which Sweetie means she consulted with and was approved by herself.)

Sweetie: ...to carve, stomp, mine, bomb, and burn a giant smiley face into the moon.

Sweetie: Think of it as a cosmic Easter egg for young NASA fans everywhere.

Sweetie: So for all you who think the lunar bombing was in fact a dud

Sweetie: just be patient.

Sweetie: It was only a first strike for lunar perfection made by Sweetie in her galaxy-wide tweak.

Sweetie: Coming soon to a universe near you.

Sweetie: The stylist for this mission must go. Absolutely nobody commented on Sweetie's evening gown. This is a dismal failure for the Sweetie division of our public relations department.

Sweetie: Yes, the controllers had been up all night, but that's hardly an excuse not to notice Sweetie.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Mission Accomplished


This is Chey's graduation (graduation from work to a life of travel and leisure) present to herself-- a red 1996 Gen 1 Miata roadster, purchased on eBay for $2650.00. She really did fly to West Palm Beach to pick it up and drive it back to her home in Atlanta. And Sweetie really did drive to D.C. Or did she?

Written 7 October, 2009


Mission Accomplished

For reasons too lengthy and detailed to explain here, Sweetie was unable to accompany on my assignment.

I had been instructed to fly to West Palm Beach and pick up a 1996 Mazda Miata-- red, of course-- and drive it at 80 mph to my home in Atlanta. I was to park it, cover it, and make haste back to New York before Sweetie could get herself into any more trouble.

As it turned out, Sweetie was on the road the same day as I was. Her assignment took her to our nation's capital. We chatted on our cell phones as we drove.

"This sucks," she said when I called her back after accidentally turning off my Bluetooth while scratching my ear. "IMs are better."

"It does," I said, and scratched my ear. "They are."

"Why can't we just drop notecards to one another?" she asked when I phoned her back yet again.

"Well, we could if we both had iPhones," I said, "but the service is expensive."

"And so we have to put up with these primitive devices?" she asked. "What kind of name is Nokia, anyway?"

"It's Japanese, I believe," I said. "I think it means "Illegal to operate in your automobile without a hands-off device."

"Are you in a hurricane?" she asked. "I can hardly hear you for all the noise."

"No, no," I assured her. "That's just the wind blowing into the open cockpit at 80 mph."

"Sounds like a hurricane to me," she said. "I still say IMs are better. This is worse than SL voice."

Three days later, however I was lying in Sweetie's arms.

I was happy-- until I found out she hadn't really been to D.C.