So I'm back in Cleveland. The city that was established in 1796. The city with enough winding roads to put the Land of Oz to shame.
Work this time around is definitely cooler. Co-workers include some quirky and brilliant office-mates, who're rocket-scientists in the real-ist sense. Conversations range from martial arts to stock market misadventures, and going sailing during a forecasted thunderstorm in the middle of the work-day is considered to be perfectly normal. (I survived this particular expedition, and later learned that sailing that day was the stupidest thing to do, probably worthy of a Darwin award (which is awarded to people who do humanity a favor by removing themselves from the gene pool) , because a sailboat in a storm on lake Erie is like a lightning rod, and we could have been fried, and it was also Friday the Thirteenth).
Oh well.
I'm still here to report on this - and even though google services are far-reaching, I doubt that they extend to the afterlife.
I was also recently asked to gather some information on centaurs, celestial bodies that are similar to asteroids, and found mainly between the orbits of Jupiter and Neptune. Tracking and hunting down each one of the 119 known centaurs look up a large part of two days. But now I know something about Transneptunian Objects, electric propulsion, the Kuiper Belt, and other tidbits that I could save the world with.
Ice-skating yesterday was cool. And not just temperature-wise. At least three different people noticed my friend and me struggling during our attempt to skate backwards, and offered their advice. The best one we got was to sing while trying to skate like that.
And what do you know... it works.
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