Saturday, July 20, 2002

I worked at Night in Old Fredericksburg over the weekend. It was a pretty good time. Okay. I poured beer and didn't actually work. More of a labor of love thing, you understand. Sean stopped by Sunday for lunch. He is due to leave San Antonio on Monday for basic training. He left his PlayStation with me. I tried a couple of his games, but I had been waiting for this day to buy Medal of Honor: Frontline. This is a one person shooter that lets you get off the landing craft at Normandy in 1944, and fight your way ashore. If you don't hear from me for a while, that's why.

Sunday, July 14, 2002

Sean was supposed to have gone to San Diego today. He showed up at Fort Sam on Friday at 4 am. They told him that there were too many people that needed to go, and that he would be shipped off the next weekend. He spent the next 11 hours watching CNN. (The only way he could leave, was when everyone else left.) Sean was kind of pissed. He said that he had given away all of his clothes, except for a couple of pairs of shorts, and a few shirts. So check here later to see if he made it.

Gary stopped by Sunday afternoon. He had been at Fort Sam for the last week, and was on his way back to Midland. He looks so good in his uniform.

Friday, July 12, 2002


The first two weeks of July rained. All the area rivers got up, and San Antonio flooded. The media was eager to convey images of the disaster: they showed helicopters picking people out of trees, submerged cars. Things were bad. On July 3, roads that came to Fredericksburg were damaged or underwater, but by the evening, the roads were open again.

I work at a bed and breakfast reservation service. I had some rocket scientist email me on Wednesday asking what the river would be like on Thursday. He asked me if the river would be safe for his kids to play in. I told him that it wouldn't. He came down on Thursday and spent the weekend with us.

On Monday, I got an email from my little Einstein. He said he had had as much fun as possible, but would have liked to reschedule. I responded that I was sorry I misunderstood his email, and that I would have been happy to reschedule for him. He responded by saying that I had mislead him. When I said the river was up, he said he knew that rivers went up and down all the time. When I said the river would be unsafe, he said that no river is safe. But he didn't expect river 200 yards across full of debris, and that he had to drive through water, and I quote, "over the hood of my SUV" to get to the house. He didn't feel like he should have been "encouraged to come."

Fortunately, the boss stopped me from sending an email that began "Jane, you ignorant slut . . ."! However, I would like to go on record that
Kenneth Kimball of College Station, Texas, is a complete and total moron.