Without my usual train rides last week, my not-quite-daily essay became even less daily. then what happened this weekend? Saturday the elder teen and I went to do some painting at Flood School. There was indoor and outdoor work to do, and we got assigned to indoor. There were too many people in one of the rooms so I went to another, and was assigned to paint behind a big ventilation pipe. The previous crew used rollers so they couldn't get to the edges or corners, and especially they couldn't get behind the pipe. It took quite a while longer than it looked like it should.
One of the volunteers had arrived just a few weeks ago; her husband is an undergrad at Stanford, and she's a graduate of some college in Oklahoma. Married students' housing is where they live. "Escondido Village?" I asked. Yep.
So she asked me where I went to school and what I studied. I told her about getting an MSEE (courtesy of my former employer) in 1980. I looked at her and said, "You weren't even born then, were you?" Nope; 1984.
Feeling a little older....
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