Budget Talk

We recently had a budget talk at HBHQ. Barry showed up to the Budget Meeting with a notebook and list. I showed up empty handed. Can you guess who was more excited about the talk?

In the middle of the Budget Meeting Wren called. When I told him that I was in the middle of a Budget Meeting he wondered where I was. I informed him that I was sitting on my couch next to my husband and his notepad. Budget Meeting

Wren, loving the idea of the Budget Meeting, laughed and asked me if I needed any fancy words to use. I took him up on his offer and scratched down a few key words.

Fortunately, when the HBHQ Budget Summit resumed I was able to use the words (expenditure, point of diminishing returns, and ???).  Unfortunately, I tried to use them all at the same time and Barry looked at me as if I had grown another head.

The Budget talk was valuable to all parties involved. Worry not, we’ve got our pie charts in order, our planned expenditures and whatever else was on that list. Let it be known for the 2010 HBHQ Budget Review, I’m coming with a whole dagum notebook and a few more Action Items.

house

Door Restored

Lately Sydney has been struggling with saying goodbye to our old door. She’s been reflecting on all the time that she’s spent guarding HBHQ, even through snow storms she’s protected this door!

snow door

I think she hatched a plan to give our old door as much use as possible in the remaining days it has hinges. The plan includes barking and waiting for us to open the door to go out in the yard. Once she’s convinced us to open the door and let her out, she turns directly around and waits for us to join her. It’s kind of pathetic.

door

When we don’t come outside with her she either sits there or pushes the door back open. She’ll sit there expectantly waiting for you to join in the backyard fun.

door waiting

Since you can’t take that face for one more, single, second you ask her if she wants to go check it out. This is special Camp Janet language and she’ll never, ever turn down a chance to check it out.

check it out

She thinks it’s a good idea and decides to head off into the wild HBHQ yard…

out

until she wonders if you’re coming too. Are you?

are you coming?

There’s that face again.  How can you say no to so many wrinkles?

leaving porch

She’ll lead the way to her special area. Once she’s checked things out, she stares at you with the same exact same expression on her face that convinced you to open the door in the first place.

checking it out

I’m wondering what kind of reaction she’s going to have once the new doors are completley installed. I’m fairly certain her facial expressions can’t get much more pathetic.

Or can they?

house , Pug Life

Registered Speed Limit

I went out for a run this morning and passed one of those radar machines on the side of the road. You know the ones that police park in residential areas to remind you that you shouldn’t be driving 45 through a street lined with houses and sidewalks on both sides?

Anyway, I had just crested a hill and saw the machine and thought the same thing that I always think when I run by one of them:

“Man, I wish I could register on that thing.”

Then I chuckle to myself, and start thinking about how they must have to calibrate the settings so they only register speeds of cars and not every little moving object that goes past (I’m a programmer, I can’t help but think about that stuff).

So right about the time I’m thinking about how I’d set up the machine’s speed calculation algorithm a huge number “6″ shows up on the screen.

Wham! Blink … “6″ … Blink “6″

Now I’m having flashbacks to the movie The Rookie when the guy throws a couple baseballs at one of these speed machines to see if he still has any hop to his fastball.

“Naw, there’s gotta be a car creeping into a parking spot behind me,” I think.

I turn and start jogging backwards. Not a single thing moving on the street except for me.

Finally. This is my chance. I turn and step up my pace a bit.

Still registered a 6. That’s no good. Surely I should be able to hit 8 mph, so I step up the pace a bit more.

Boom. 7…. uh wait, back to 6. Ah forget it. I was running up a hill anyway.

Maybe I don’t want those machines to register my running speeds after all. Or maybe I’ll just adjust my route to run by the machine first next time.

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