aeneas

Just got home from having a very nice dinner (beer and hot wings served by women in small, tight outfits) with Lisa. She was still all wound up from her statistics class, which is, apparently, largely populated by idiots. She is finding the course quite easy, although many of her classmates seem to think it's post-doctoral quantum-hyperspatial astrophysics or something.

After we finished eating we stood out in the parking lot next to my motorcycle and engaged in a shamelessly sentimental display of public affection, ignoring the stares and the cold wind.

It will be extremely gratifying to spend four peaceful, scenic, uninterrupted days in the mountains with her. I CAN'T WAIT! But before that can happen, unfortunately, I must endure giving six straight days of highly compressed, tightly scheduled flight training to four pilots -- only one of whom seems to show the slightest flicker of real enthusiasm for the enterprise at hand. I don't mind the work; it's the deadlines and the surly attitudes that wear me out.

On Monday morning Lisa will be surprised to receive a bouquet of roses and stargazer lillies -- her favorite -- at the office. I want all of her co-workers to see that she is both cherished and appreciated.

She's so smart and so hardworking that she intimidates the hell out of most people. She often wonders why she never seems to get attention from men . . . aside from the professional respect of her colleagues. The answer is simple, I reply. They're all scared shitless of you.