New girlfriend has become fiance'. Have transitioned from me and my two boys in a big expensive house to me, two boys, my fiance', and her two girls all packed into a space barely large enough. Some joy, some drama. Suddenly I am remodeling my kitchen. Since when does "Will you marry me" translate into "May I please destroy my kitchen and slowly rebuild it?"

I made up a new word today.

Intoxificated! It's like intoxicated, but now with 20% more syllables!

New girlfriend, new car, business is hectic as usual. I miss you guys.

I am so done with the bald profile photo. That was two years ago. Now if I can just get some time free to figure out how to turn this huge digital photo into a small enough version to upload . . . I think there are help threads on the boards explaining how, but I have so much real life stuff going on that getting photo support for SG just doesn't make the cut.

Life is pretty OK right now. New girl in the picture. Well, truth to tell, two new girls. Yes, they both know. I am a brutally ethical man-whore. Staying focused on work right now is a real challenge.

**UPDATE: THE SCAN SHOWS CONTINUED REMISSION. 28 MONTHS AND COUNTING**

Taking the sting off of the Worst Internet Date Ever is the fact that I met a girl! A different girl! She's smart and hot and into me and my best friend never fired her!

Apparently some of the emotional growth work I have been working on over the last few years has paid off. I feel like I am about 5% more confident and easy to talk to. Based on the reactions I am getting from the people around me, it's more like 75%. I will give myself credit for being a really decent guy for a very long time. But my ability to connect with people and convey that has been . . . inconsistent. So, go me. Right here, right now, my life absolutely does not suck.

I had a CT scan last week. Wednesday I go in and get told (definitely. I will DEFINITELY get told) that my remission continues apace. Twenty-seven months and counting. Usually right now I am running about 80% perfectly normal and 20% terrified. But life has been so good that I am running more like 95/5 Fine/Terror. I could get used to this.

And I made dinner plans with my Mom because that's the kind of awesome son I am.

I tried to upload a new profile pic and failed miserably. I guess I need to go back to the help threads to see how to beat down the file size on these pictures.

Worst. Internet. Date. Ever.

Through the crisis at work. Hired four new people over the course of a month. That is to say, hired eight over the coure of two months and ditched the four losers.

Then I got it into my head that after all I have been through, I deserve a date. So I posted on Craigslist. "Healthy Professional Seeks Same." I used spelling and grammar, and included a photo. That put me above the pack enough that I got some responses. I scheduled a Friday night no-pressure meet with one lovely young woman who likes clean-cut professional guys. Drinks with she and a friend to get acquainted. It turns out we work in the same industry. It turns out we know some of the same people. It turns out that MY BEST FRIEND FIRED HER LAST SPRING. She feels shabbily treated and it is still very hurt. The conversation ground to a screeching halt as her emotional defenses snapped into place.

Quote of the night: "This just officially got awkward, didn't it?" (That was me)

In and out in five minutes. I am a machine.

So . . . how was YOUR Friday?

[edit] It gets even better. Here is where you see why I'm single. I just don't know when to shut up. She didn't realize he was my best friend. She just thought I was a customer coming by for business. With great largesse (and strong mutual attraction) she e-mailed me and apologized for freezing up, and offered to look me up when she had gotten past some of the bitterness. Like I said, she thought I was just associated with her old job. A perfect opportunity for me to shut up and score a dinner date. Possibly even a little adult content, because that sort of thing means a lot to me. Not, apparently, as much as full disclosure and an opportunity to be a smartass. I wrote back and explained that I was a lot closer to the problem that she thought and that I didn't think that would work "Unless resentment is a turn-on for you. I am usually a gentle soul, but for you I could try to make that work."

So, bonus points for humor, and still extremely single. When will I learn to shut up?

Still working my ass off. Having slightly less fun. But making progress. Every day, another half step forward in being a mature company capable of handling this amount of work. And work is all I have to talk about right now. I know - Booo-ring!!!! But what can I tell you? I'm an engineer. Getting the new pneumatic system set up in the shop is kind of a turn-on.

OK, so we got these new air tools and I bought a cheap hardware store compressor to run them and see how they worked. The tools worked great, so I bought two more. Meanwhile the compressor was driving us insane with its constant hammering buzz. Also, the hoses and extension cords dragging around on the floor were not cool. I called in a crew and we installed a compressor twenty times as powerful with a mature meaty throb when it runs, which is about twice a day due to its twenty-six gallon air tank. Air and power now distribute along the rafters and drop down at the workstations. I do rock, yes I do.

We are all so relieved that the old compressor is gone. I'm sitting side by side with James doing some paperwork when the new compressor kicks on, filling the shop with a throbbing that, while loud, is positively soothing compared to its predecessor. "I'm going to marry that compressor." I mutter. James says "but think of the children." "You're right" I say, "If it's a daughter I would have to keep her under lock and key. All the boys would be pounding on the door once they figured out she can suck-start a Harley." A good laugh out of James. Then he mentions a comedy routine he had just heard about "Fuckable objects." So I launch into an old Dice Clay routine about masturbating with food. "We're having liver tonight." "Yeah, Ma. I had the liver already. You should try it with applesauce. Oh, and we're out of Mayo again."

Apparently my timing was on today. I've never made him laugh so hard. His face was beet red and David came in from the shop to make sure he was OK. His breathing was so messed up he was getting dizzy. God, that was great.

The new customer I thought was going to increase sales 25% instead more than doubled them. We slipped behind bit by bit until finally we were shipping product next day air to make it to the production line an hour before it was due to be installed. We were probably 48 hours away from losing the account for good and thereby crippling my company's ability to expand. My distributor and I were yelling at each other on the phone, and every time I thought "What an asshole!", I had to remind myself that he's in a very difficult position that *I* have put him in by not meeting my commitments. Then I remind myself that part of the problem is that he bungled the sales projection by a factor of about five. So enough blame and it's time to solve the problem.

So I told my guys we were working Saturday and Sunday and ten-hour days. They racked up 29 hours of overtime in two weeks. I hired two temps, interviewed four more people, fired both temps, and hired a keeper. I worked until somewhere between 7:00 pm and 1:00 am every night this week setting up tooling and basically getting them the tools and materials they need to do their jobs. 70 nor 80 hours for me in the shop this week.

Part of the problem is that we could not possibly meet production with the space we had. I rented a larger unit in the same business park and this whole herculean effort took place while moving to a larger space. While my guys are flying through the product, I am bustling around and viola! A compressor system and hoses for our new pnuematic tools. Then the network magically reappears, and internet access, due to a 1:00 shift Thursday night and some more effort today.

We did it. We doubled production. We are back from the brink of next day air and into a moderate comfort zone of 2nd day air, and making further progress. They love the product. If I can continue to get it to them in a timely manner then this customer is a keeper and we can go after the next one.

I am exhausted. This is the worst year for hay fever and the asthma it triggers in about a decade. I need to see a doctor, because my lung volume has grown tiny and the inhaler isn't cutting it, and to get some Zyrtec because the 24 hour Claritin tabs hold me about five.

I am loving it. I haven't been this happy in years. We are playing the radio loud, cracking jokes, and throwing donuts at each other. We are zipping back and forth between the shops on my kid's razor scooter. And we are doing our best, with better tools, and reaping the rewards. What more could I ask for?

I am also due for another routine CT scan. Coming out of remission now would TOTALLY suck.

Tonight I took a couple cans of sterno onto the back deck and toasted s'mores with my kids. That was awesome. I am the luckiest guy ever.

Diddled around doing nothing Saturday, then around 2:30 I got off my butt and packed for a hang gliding trip. Headed up to this great flying site in Washington. Managed one evening flight in fading lift, 14 minutes, then camped out with the flying crowd and got two more flights this morning for another 25 minutes. Loaded up the glider, hit the road, and at 3:00, as promised, I presented my gamey stubbly self to my mother for our mother's day outing. Took her out to Thai and then per her request took "a stroll" through a riverside park. I gotta love my mom. Her "mother's day stroll" turned into (her idea, not mine) a two hour, four mile trek through the nature park, up an animal trail on the bluff, then doubling back through the residential neighborhood to the parking lot, all in sweltering heat. So, yeah, I'm inching my way up this slippery dirt trail the graffiti artists use to get down the bluff to tag the mausoleum, towing my mother behind me, and she's LOVING it. She couldn't stop talking about how much she had enjoyed our walk. So the next time I find myself 7,000' up some trail skirting around the flank of a mountain with a 40-lb pack on my back and my hiking buddy fending off the dehydration heaves and I'm calling it my vacation, I'll know which side of the family I got that from.

My dad, bless his heart, liked to sit in the sun with a magazine and a beer. I imagine I'll get around to that after my hips give out.