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3:25. 6. 19. 11. O.
Nov. 10th, 2021 03:09 pmTaking those in order:
I was a middle of the night bebbe. Waited until 3:25 a.m., 62 yesteryears ago, to pop my head out. Mom was likely heavily sedated and didn't even notice. So it's fitting that I was up again at that very hour of my 62nd yesterday morning, after being made awake by assorted animal noises and then kept awake by dread of the anticipated events of the coming workday.
It began right at nine a.m. with the first of the 6 hearings in three different cases that would chain me to my desk for the next four-plus hours. Ultimately, they all went as well as, if not better than, my wee-smalls agitas expected them to go. The last of them, held until the end of the judge's calendar because of the messiness of it all, came within millimeters of being completely settled. I'd actually gotten my clients to agree to an idea Hizzoner himself came up with (pro tip: this is usually how it's going to go anyway), but the other side balked on one stupid term I asked to be added to that number. So it will hang in the balance for another month as a result, but at least the court knows that we were willing to do it his way. (I'm not counting that one as "settled" until it fully and finally is, because today I found out that one of the cases prematurely reported here last week as "settled," might not be. It's another couple of clients, only this time I got them on the phone at different times and got different instructions each time.)
With those behind me, and after a late afternoon geezer nap, we set out for dinner and an art show, where the still-hanging effects of COVID-19 on the economy became apparent to us. The show was at an Allentown eatery beloved by many for many years called Betty's Restaurant.
That's her over there. And this is Wendy over here:
Her artist statement:
Alas, due to staffing shortages, none of Betty's distant relatives were in the kitchen, as they weren't serving anything last night but a few crackers and cheese along with the full contents of the bar- despite what the decor might imply-
We'd thought of some alternatives in the area. One newer one that looked good, at the main intersection of Allen & Elmwood, was closed. We even drove down Pothole Place to the legendary Mother's and I tried to park while Eleanor encoungered an hour wait for a table, an aggressive panhandler out in front, and a party of six dudes who were clearly not there for quiet conversation. We headed home for Caesar salads, birthday cake, and a Republic of Doyle.
Earlier in the day, I completed the much-procrastinated upgrade on this laptop to Windows 11. I didn't expect any hardware issues, since this machine is fairly new and was advertised as 11-compatible. The bigger concern was whether it would work with my varieties of ancient software products, including a 2006-era billing suite and a bankruptcy petition program that still uses Internet Explorer to output its product to the courts. That all worked fine. Then I discovered a few glitches exist, for me the main one being the "Snipping Tool" I use all the time to create images before uploading them for display here. A first-night Windows Update fixed that one, and I've already received a second in the relatively few hours I've been running it.
And finally,...
The O's the letter, short for Oh Boy. What else can one say about the death of Dean Stockwell? From child actor to our beloved Admiral Al, who kept Sam in his places for all of Quantum Leap. There'd been rumblings that he, Scott Bakula and the series creator were working on a return to the story, to overcome the dissatisfaction that "Mirror Image" brought as a finale that really wasn't. Now I don't see it happening without him.
Rest in peace, you nozzle.
I was a middle of the night bebbe. Waited until 3:25 a.m., 62 yesteryears ago, to pop my head out. Mom was likely heavily sedated and didn't even notice. So it's fitting that I was up again at that very hour of my 62nd yesterday morning, after being made awake by assorted animal noises and then kept awake by dread of the anticipated events of the coming workday.
It began right at nine a.m. with the first of the 6 hearings in three different cases that would chain me to my desk for the next four-plus hours. Ultimately, they all went as well as, if not better than, my wee-smalls agitas expected them to go. The last of them, held until the end of the judge's calendar because of the messiness of it all, came within millimeters of being completely settled. I'd actually gotten my clients to agree to an idea Hizzoner himself came up with (pro tip: this is usually how it's going to go anyway), but the other side balked on one stupid term I asked to be added to that number. So it will hang in the balance for another month as a result, but at least the court knows that we were willing to do it his way. (I'm not counting that one as "settled" until it fully and finally is, because today I found out that one of the cases prematurely reported here last week as "settled," might not be. It's another couple of clients, only this time I got them on the phone at different times and got different instructions each time.)
With those behind me, and after a late afternoon geezer nap, we set out for dinner and an art show, where the still-hanging effects of COVID-19 on the economy became apparent to us. The show was at an Allentown eatery beloved by many for many years called Betty's Restaurant.
That's her over there. And this is Wendy over here:
Her artist statement:
Alas, due to staffing shortages, none of Betty's distant relatives were in the kitchen, as they weren't serving anything last night but a few crackers and cheese along with the full contents of the bar- despite what the decor might imply-
We'd thought of some alternatives in the area. One newer one that looked good, at the main intersection of Allen & Elmwood, was closed. We even drove down Pothole Place to the legendary Mother's and I tried to park while Eleanor encoungered an hour wait for a table, an aggressive panhandler out in front, and a party of six dudes who were clearly not there for quiet conversation. We headed home for Caesar salads, birthday cake, and a Republic of Doyle.
Earlier in the day, I completed the much-procrastinated upgrade on this laptop to Windows 11. I didn't expect any hardware issues, since this machine is fairly new and was advertised as 11-compatible. The bigger concern was whether it would work with my varieties of ancient software products, including a 2006-era billing suite and a bankruptcy petition program that still uses Internet Explorer to output its product to the courts. That all worked fine. Then I discovered a few glitches exist, for me the main one being the "Snipping Tool" I use all the time to create images before uploading them for display here. A first-night Windows Update fixed that one, and I've already received a second in the relatively few hours I've been running it.
And finally,...
The O's the letter, short for Oh Boy. What else can one say about the death of Dean Stockwell? From child actor to our beloved Admiral Al, who kept Sam in his places for all of Quantum Leap. There'd been rumblings that he, Scott Bakula and the series creator were working on a return to the story, to overcome the dissatisfaction that "Mirror Image" brought as a finale that really wasn't. Now I don't see it happening without him.
Rest in peace, you nozzle.