This is formica table. Green is it's color.

I'm writing a post even though I should read some more and go to sleep.  Yeah, I'm hardcore like that.

This evening was spent in the company of kiwikat  and later shevus .  We ate food and talked and played Scruples and MarioKart.  It was all good times.  Also, we called Barriques so that I would know how it is properly pronounced.  Then we played reverse-strip poker where if you lose, you have to put more clothes on.  Just kidding.  I made up that last part.

Today is the first day I've woken up and was not absolutely miserable from pain.  That came later after a long day of driving taxi.  It's been exactly one month since my surgery.  That's a month of Vicodin and sleeping on the couch.  I've also lost 15 pounds this month.  I guess that ain't all bad.  P.S. I really miss riding my bike.  P.P.S.  Extra time to read on the bus is pretty nice.

I've been reading Robin Hobb's The Liveship Traders trilogy.  It's pretty good.  Her writing is a bit rough, or at least her editor is kind of sucky, but the characters and plot are fairly solid.  Hobb has a knack for not going where yuo think she'll go, which is refreshing.  Plus, for fantasy, she borrows very little from the genre, which makes her world and story very unique.  I'm about halfway through the second book and will probably read it when I'm done typing here.  Yeah.

Yesterday, one of my passengers was complaining that the two brand-new Mercedes that he ordered from Europe aren't coming for 18 months because the American model has to be out in the U.S. for six months before he can legally import them.  Such a tough life, I pity the fool.

Yesterday was Jacquelyn and my three-year anniversary.  Jacqui's up in Minneapolis doing science so we'll celebrate when she gets back.  This month has been so hectic, I'm sad to admit that I *almost* forgot.  Plus, the Vicodin makes me dumb and my memory faulty.  Have I mentioned how awesome Jacquelyn is?  PRETTY EFFING AWESOME.  I am a lucky dude.

Evidence that Vicodin makes me dumb: Jacquelyn and I went out to dinner at Brocach.  I meant to order a Spotted Cow (awesome beer, seriously) and my waiter brought me a Guinness.  I don't really drink Guinness.  I never order Guinness.  But apparently in the space between my brain and my lips, my mouth decided I needed Guinness.  Which was fine, because it was damn fine beer and went very well with my bangers & mash.

Months ago, I picked up a British writer on his first day in Madison.  Today, I picked up he and his entire family to take them to the airport back to Britain.  He remembered me, asked about my writing - I asked about his.  We both have kids that want us to write them books.  He didn't think I looked old enough to have a thirteen-year old.  He asked a few more questions about my family and past and told me I really need to write a memoir.  Maaaaaybe.

Sincerely,
Jack

P.S.  That means this is the end.