Squirreladonna

I'm on a groovy kind of run lately. I've been finishing my work on a freakish (for me) pace that gets me out of the office at the same time as everybody else. It's a minor miracle, on the par with a crying Madonna statue. The Vatican would never recognize it as such, but I know within myself that there has to be divine intervention of some sort for me to leave my desk before the sun sets.

As a result of my recent good fortune, I've been able to share my no-so-infinite wisdom and knowledge in our recent after-hours get-togethers. So, in other words, the rest of the gang has been blessed as well. The miracle is spreading the wealth and joy of me to the masses. Oh ye, take this blessing and annoint it with 12-ounce servings of a hops and barley beverage.
My editor is trying to get a new "Muckrakers Society" started. Granted a good percentage of the office is at the corner beverage establishment on any given late afternoon, but now she's trying to pull in some of the college writers to join us and increase and broaden discussions beyond our normal realm. So far a couple of the whippersnappers have deigned to grace us with their presence. Tales and ideas have been swapped in our inaugural meetings. We'll see if it grows into something or not. Time and conversation will tell.

Getting finished early also means I get to come home and watch some telly when I'm not in the gym. You see, more than a computer head, I'm addicted to the idiot box. TV rules me. Right now, I'm checking out the new edition of Lost. It's been weeks since they've aired anything original. I enjoy Lost, but I'm not fanatical about it like some. My partner is wrapped up in the Internet pursuit of clues and rumors concerning the castaways and the plot. I watch it and wait seven days for more input. She spends hours surfing.

Right now, Mr. Echo is kicking everybody's ass in pursuit of more Madonna statues.
Funny how things go around and come around.