New Year's Party

We had a new year’s party at Greg’s house.

Greg has a beautiful house in the Los Altos Hills above silicon valley. For those not familiar with silicon valley - Los Altos Hills is where the gazillionares live. Once your company does an IPO or is bought by Google for 9 figures you go buy a house there. Needless to say, these folks no longer have any need for the phrase "how much does that cost?".

A bunch of us from work went. Janet was there, as was Lynn. Lynn (my BFF) came with Jim (her SO), which seemed to me a bit awkward (for new readers, see the earlier post where I stupidly put the moves on her after work). If she was feeling awkward, she wasn’t showing it. There was really good food and wine – there was a particularly good cabernet that Greg was serving from Australia (Barossa Valley) called “The Reward” from a winery called Hallett. I’ll need to see if I can’t get it from K&L wines in Palo Alto. Worth seeking out.

There are a couple of rules when dining with Greg. First, when the food is served you are at the table immediately. The cook, in this case Greg – he fancies himself quite the gourmet – did a lot of work to produce some great food. And to enjoy the food at the peak of flavor - all you need to do is sit down promptly. So, sit down promptly. Second, never season anything before tasting it. Both of these are an insult to the chef. If you want to come back, don’t insult the chef. Actually, I agree with both of these rules – being a foodie myself I can see the logic in this.

Anyway, it was a sit-down affair for about 25. His dining room accommodated all quite nicely. Greg had hired 2 sous chefs and some wait staff for the party. On the 31^st Greg is having a “business meeting” type new year’s party – clients, partners etc. Tonight was for friends.

I sat across from Lynn and Jim. We discussed a number of topics. Jim wants to go windsurfing again. He made a number of rude remarks. I don’t get why Lynn is with him. But this is probably just jealousy.

Dinner wound down and most folks left, including Linda and Lynn. I was talking with Greg about his recent wine acquisition trip to Italy (I'm so jealous). He offered to show me some of his buys. He led me down into his wine cellar – which was amazing. It had to be 40 feet long and 20 wide, under the main house.

“Room for over 15,000 bottles” Greg said.

It was amazing. Did I say that already? We walked through his cellar and he showed me Barolos, Chiantis, and we stopped at some bottles of champagne. He had a case of Dom Perignon sitting on the floor, unopened. I must have looked thirsty or something, because he asked me if I wanted some. I hesitated (I was going to politely decline), he didn't hesitate, he immediately pulled open the case and grabbed two bottles. “I’ll chill them for you” he said. “They’ll be cold in 15 minutes.”

He invited me out to the Jacuzzi. “I didn’t bring any swim trunks” I said.

“That’s OK he replied, we rarely use them here.” He replied. “Don’t be shy”

The Jacuzzi and pool were outside on the downstairs level in back of the house. It was awesome. You could sit in the pool and look over the whole valley. Only the pool lights were on. I walked out to the pool deck and stripped down and sat in the hot tub. There were 4 people there, three girls and one guy. No one that I recognized. Greg came out a minute later with the 2 bottles of Dom Perignon and 6 glasses.

He popped one open and filled the glasses and passed them out. We all toasted the new year. The Dom Perignon was good, but not really – IMHO – worth the $100+ that it costs. I would stack it up against a $30 Mumms any day. But, good wine is wine that you like. (and I like Mumms)

“So,” Greg asked “I wonder what the poor folks are doing tonight?”

That was a bit tacky, I thought.

We talked about a number of topics. I was probably talking about Lynn more that I should have. Greg said, “It sounds like you have a bit of a crush on that girl”

“She’s a sweetheart” I said.

“You know," Greg said, “Jim is a bit of an asshole. I’d be careful hanging with them if I were you.”

“Well, it’s really Lynn who is my friend”

“Did you ever wonder why Lynn is with him?” Greg asked.

“All the time” I replied, staring up at the stars

“You really should consider that, you know” said Greg. "Beautiful young girl... balding, fat, middle aged asshole - who's not rich, I might add... Why?"

“Dunno, why is she with him?” I asked.

“There could be a lot of reasons. You figure it out.”

“You don’t know either?” I asked

“There are some things you need to learn on your own.” He sighed and looked out over the valley. If he knew, (or thought he knew) he wasn’t going to tell me. He ran a wet hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. He sank down under the water. A moment later one of the girls screamed then giggled. How do you do that, put your head underwater in a jacuzzi? That's crazy.

In total, we killed four bottles of Dom Champagne, more being brought by the hired waitstaff. One couple left together, leaving Greg, me and two naked women. I felt a leg slide across my thigh. I looked over at the girl (I can’t remember her name, but she was cute) she smiled at me. Somehow, it just wasn’t right. I don’t know – maybe it was the kiss with Lynn. On any other night this would have been really welcome. Tonight it was just totally wrong.

I did end up staying the night at Greg’s house. He has several guest rooms off the pool deck. The girl stayed, too. In a separate room. We talked in the morning. She did not seem (too) insulted that I did not accept her advance (WAS I CRAZY!?!? Throwing away beautiful women is bad thing to do. One day they may not be so plentiful. WTF was I thinking!?!?! Aaaargh, I regret it already)

I drove home wondering what Greg meant when we had talked about Lynn and Jim. Why was Lynn with Jim? I usually try not to question folk’s taste – good food is food that you like, after all. But I am really starting to wonder about Lynn’s.

Christmas

It is my custom to make a Christmas roast, Yorkshire pudding, and mashed potatoes (it's the classic British holiday meal). I pair this with a really rich cabernet or big Bordeaux – the money is no object kind.

The last few years I have gotten away from doing a standing rib roast and have gone with a New York Steak loin (just think of a big slab of NY steaks all stuck together) 4 or 5 pounds of this makes a great roast. Very tender, and it’s much more flavorful than the fillet mignon – which I used to roast. Also, it renders a lot of fat which is great for cooking a Yorkshire pudding. It is amazingly good, but I do my arteries a favor and only eat this once a year.

This year, due to problems with getting to my favorite butcher and the wine store I have nothing ready to cook. In fact, the fridge is rather bare. The problem was work related (see yesterday's post).

I came home from an all nighter at work at about 3:30 a.m. Christmas morning. I slept until about noon. I opened a few presents from my parents and sisters – and felt a bit depressed. Tried to call my folks, but they were out somewhere. I took a walk around the neighborhood.

At 5 I started to think about dinner. The local safeway is open until 6, but I can’t bring myself to get a prepackaged roast or anything like that. I don’t even feel like cooking (which is weird - usually when I feel like crap, I want to cook). I really want to call Lynn. But only to ask her to come over – by herself. OK that would be a really bad idea.

About 8 I give in to hunger and look for something to fill my belly. The fridge is empty. The best option looks like some of Jason’s canned chili. Nalley’s. It looks like it’s made of meat by products and soy filler - Yum!. This is really sad. I make some sticky white rice (it’s a Hawaii thing, see: zippys ) and covered it with the chili and shred on some sharp cheddar, a bit of onion and some hot sauce. It’s strangely satisfying. I down it with half of a six pack of pale ale – a good match.

Alone for Christmas dinner. Christmas dinner from a can. I don't mind being alone - that was kinda the plan, but a can of chili for dinner...

Next year can only be better.

Merry Christmas all.

Yorkshire Pudding

1 cup of flour
½ teaspoon of salt
½ cup of milk
½ cup of water
2 eggs
¼ rendered beef fat (drippings from a roast beef)

It's best if the ingredients are at room temperature - but you can do it with cold eggs and milk.

Mix the flour, salt, milk, water, and eggs into a pancake like batter - there may be a few lumps, but try to get it smooth, a whisk works best. Let it sit for about 2 hours covered in the fridge - this lets the gluten in the flour relax - don't skip this step or the texture won't be right.

Take about ¼ cup of hot rendered beef fat from a roast and put it in a 9 by 13 glass baking pan. Pour in the batter in and put it in a 400 degree over for 30 to 40 minutes – until very puffy and golden brown and delicious. Do not open the over door during cooking, or you'll lose some puffiness. The rendered fat makes it very decadent and delicious. Sounds greasy, but if you eat it hot and fresh from the oven it's great.

Great the next morning, too - nuke it in a microwave until hot, and cover with maple syrup.

Christmas Eve

I've finished all my christmas shopping, and delivered all the gifts I need to give out. That feels good.

I was on my way to my favorite butcher and to the wine shop to pick up Christmas dinner. It will be a solo affair, but I don’t mind. Cooking for myself is a worthwhile endeavor, there is no one more appreciative. Food is the second greatest sensual pleasure. I don’t understand folks who eat over their sink from a can when dining solo.

I got a call on my cell, it was Dave (my boss). “Rich, I need you to get into the office and rebuild 5.4 on Linux.”

“Uh, I’ll kick it off from home. No problem.”

“Yes, problem.” He sounded irritated. “I need it rebuilt and tested as soon as possible. That means I need you to watch the regression test and fix anything that fails.”

“What was changed?”

“The access methods for the data recovery module. They were causing a memory leak. We need to get a patch out to Minneapolis yesterday. Every minute counts.”

“The regressions should be fine. I’ll set it up to text me at the end of the tests and I’ll check ‘em then. It’s the 21st century – I can do this remotely.” And it’s Christmas – no one is even in at the customer’s offices anyway – I thought to myself.

“Look I had Eric in overnight working on the fix. Now I need you to baby sit the tests. I know it’s Christmas, I know it’s last minute, but I need you to do this. We all need to pull together on this. Now can you get into the office?”

“OK.” I pulled the car over to turn around. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks. Please call me when it’s done.”

“What if that’s 3:00 a.m.?”

“Call me the minute it’s tested and packaged. I don’t care what time it is.”

“OK. Talk to you in 15 to 20 hours.” This is crap! I am being asked to sit and watch 10 computers run tests on our application for the next 15 hours or more. This on the off chance that there might be a problem, that I might not be able to do anything about.

I think Dave lives for this kind of thing. I could do this remotely, that’s why God invented WiFi – worse case we’d lose a few hours. Our build and QA environment is not geared to run remotely, but I could get the job done.

My Christmas Eve is shot – probably my Christmas as well. Hope your’s is going well. Good thing I’m not throwing the big party.

Just at that moment I realized that Eric’s office was dark last night. Lynn and I walked past it. (see yesterday's post) Neither he nor Dave was in last night.

This is a set-up. Well, it’s not worth losing a job over.

I Kissed a Girl...

...and I liked it

Cue that overplayed Kate Perry song.

Maurizio always thought it ironic when I hummed that.

Anyway, it’s the day before Christmas Eve. I just got home from work. The last week has been so hectic with the extra assignments at work, last minute Christmas shopping and such. Today, work was very quiet, only a few people were in. I am pretty low on vacation time (I used it all up, and then some, last month on my highway 1 adventure) so I’m in all this week and next. Lynn was in as well.

It was about 6:00 and the office was empty except for Lynn and me. Most of the lights were turned out – not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. I was about to head out. I packed up my bag with the laptop and papers, and walked down to Lynn’s cube.

I smiled at her, “Merry Christmas.” I leaned against the cubicle doorframe.

“You doing anything fun?” She asked

“I’ve been too busy to plan. I think it will be a quiet Christmas. Scott went to visit his folks in Yakima. Jason is spending the next week in San Diego. So I have the run of the house. I need to pick up a roast. I’ll cook it and have a nice dinner.”

“By yourself? Come over to our place. Jim’s having some friends over, but you’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Thanks,” I looked down "I always cook a roast on Christmas, and make a Yorkshire pudding in the fat.”

She wrinkled her nose. I guess that sounded really gross – but actually it is very decadent. It didn’t seem like the time to explain it to her. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer. You should head home soon. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, I have a few things to pick-up. I’m going now.” She threw some things in her bag and stood to leave. She walked over to the door of her cube, but left her bag and purse behind.
She stood in the door facing me. She gently leaned forward. “Kiss her, you fool” I thought to myself. I really wanted to. We were standing under the mistletoe. She had never been more beautiful than right now. I put my arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her like I meant it. I think I surprised myself as much as her.

She kissed me back. She was serious, too.

“I’m tired of playing by the rules” I said. I kissed her again. I came up for air, and wondered what to do next.

The first thing that I could think of was “that was a dumb thing to do”. She is engaged, living with another guy, genuinely unavailable. What do I say now? I probably just screwed everything up with her. And she's my best friend on the whole planet.

OK, so who saw this coming? Was it obvious?

“You have a wonderful Christmas” I said to her, stepping back.

“I was wondering if you’d ever get around to doing that” she said.

“Was it obvious?” I asked.

“I’ve told you before, I can read you like a book.” She smiled coyly “Thanks”

“Any time” I replied – trying to be smart.

She picked up her bag and we walked out to the parking lot. She put her arm around me as we walked - until we were in sight of the security guard at the back door. I walked her to her car. She turned to me and kissed me again.

“You’re sweet, Rich” she said. “Merry Christmas”

She got in her car and drove off - home to Jim.

Solstice Feast

All these winter holidays we have are really tied to the winter solstice. It is the moment when the days stop getting shorter and start getting longer. For ancient man in Northern climates this had to be a really significant event. It meant that the end of the world was not at hand – that the summer and its bounty would be back.

I take the solstice as a time to have a really decadent dinner. OK, so those of you that have been reading for a while know that I don’t need much of an excuse to be decadent. Anyway, this year I went for my version of Pasta Carbonara. (see recipe)

I cooked it yesterday for dinner and Jason and I tore through it.

I paired this with one of the super Tuscan Chiantis that I bought last summer. It was a 1998 Tenuta dell Ornellaia, and it was awesome – hopefully it will thin the blood a bit.

I’ll get some paddling in later this week to work off all that saturated fat.

Happy solstice, everyone

Pasta Carbonara (heart attack style)

1/4 lb smoked bacon (about 6 slices)
1 medium shallot (can substitute a little bit of onion)
2 teaspoons flour
1 cup heavy cream
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup grated parmesian cheese
1 lb spaghetti or fettuccine

Cook the of bacon, nice and crisp. Once it’s done, pat dry it on a paper towel and set aside. Pour out all of the bacon fat from the pan except for 2 teaspoons. Sweat a medium sized shallot, minced, in the remaining bacon fat until it is soft and translucent. Add two teaspoons of flour and cook for about two minutes. Add a half pint of heavy cream.

Yes, folks, we are making a béchamel sauce with bacon grease and heavy cream. Break out the defibrillators. For those of you prone to arterial sclerosis, please turn away now.

Crumble the bacon into small bits and add it to the béchamel. Next add two egg yolks (yes, more fat and cholesterol) tempering them so they don’t curdle.

Finally, add about ½ a cup of grated parmesan cheese (imported from Italy, please) (and, yes, even more saturated fat - this is sooo good) to the béchamel and remove from the heat immediately. Stir in 16 ounces of prepared pasta. I prefer Fettuccine or Spaghetti, but anything you like will work. If it’s too thick, add milk or reserved pasta water to thin it out. It should be the consistency of a thick alfredo sauce.

Take a tip from restaurants and serve this on heated plates – put them in a 200 degree oven for about 15 minutes. If you don’t halfway though dinner this turns into a gooey paste, which is not good eats.

Work Sucks - more than ever

Dave is my boss. Dave and I don't get along. Dave is quite a character. He is an older guy, but he doesn’t have a lot of experience on the job. He used to be a truck driver and got a programming degree at a night university about 6 or 7 years ago. I can honestly say that he is not a very good programmer. He used to be one of my co-workers. We both reported to another guy who quit a few months back. The company tries to promote from within. In this case they promoted Dave to group manager.

I suspect that they promoted Dave to get him away from the code. He is a sloppy coder and didn’t test his work very well. While he was a co-worker of mine I didn’t hide my lack of respect for his abilities. And he didn’t hide his dislike for me. I also didn’t hide from him the fact that I was starting to look for a new job (something that I now realize you should never share with *anyone* you work with). And then, in a quirky twist of fate, he became my boss. Whoops.

Now I get all the assignments from the bottom of the barrel – and more work than most of the other folks. Which is OK. I do like the work – just not the company or my boss. And I can do the work faster than most of my co-workers. It helps not having much of a social life either, as I can eat dinner from the candy machine and work late into the night without missing anything other than some bad sit-coms on TV.

Dave reports to Tony (more on Tony later – Tony hired me into the company, over Dave’s objections). Liz also reports to Tony. All of Dave’s and Liz’s workers are in a block of cubicles together. Mine is in the same hallway as Lynn’s office. My office is on the corner near the main hallway, hers is at the end of the cubicle hallway, in sort of a cul-de-sac – so there aren’t too many folks walking by. I take my coffee breaks in her office. We play backgammon on her computer and discuss the problems of the day loud enough for folks in neighboring cubes to know that we are collaborating on work. I probably spend too much time there because Linda – the group secretary – knows to look for me there if I am not in my office.

On Friday, I was sitting in Lynn’s office when Linda found me. "Dave wants to see you right away," she said. I got up and followed her to Dave’s cube.

Dave had his feet on his desk and was doodling on a note pad. "Come in" he said not moving his feet. "I’ve been going over the bug reports and you have been very productive in September and October. You passed even Eric on fixes in October, even though you were out for a week and a half. – that’s impressive."

"Thanks" I replied.

"So," he continued, still looking at the pad of paper "I’d like you to start leading the India meetings"

"You mean the status meetings with Sanjay?"

"Yup" he put his feet down and looked at me. "Sanjay and his guys are doing more bug fixing and I need them to coordinate their work with the project team here. We’ve had too many problems with them making changes that interfere with work going on here, especially in the last month."

"OK" I shrugged "Tuesday nights at 7:00, right?"

"No, I changed the time. It interfered with my baseball. It’s now at 5 a.m." He paused. Dave is a big baseball fan and goes to the local games as frequently as possible.

"Can’t we change it back? I don’t go to ball games." It's not even baseball season.

"I don’t think that would be a good idea. Sanjay will have most of his engineers there so we need to schedule it during their work day."

I felt my face turning red. Dave smiled.

"The meeting is in video conference room B."

"Can’t I call in from home?"

"No, Richard, communication works better when they can see you."

"Can’t I use a webcam from home?"

Dave laughed.

"Who else will be there from Sunnyvale?" I asked.

"No one, just you." He smiled again.

"Isn’t this supposed to be your job?" I tried to ask as evenly as I could.

"Yes it was. But now I’m delegating it to you. As a manager it is my job to delegate tasks to the people that will do them the best." His phone rang, he checked the incoming number quickly. "I’ll e-mail you the agenda. Keep up the good work, Dick" with a strong emphasis on the word “Dick”. He picked up the phone and turned his back toward me.

Dave had been on my case about the fix count since he took over the job. My counts were usually close to the average for the group. Eric is the boy wonder of the group, and has had the highest monthly fix count since he joined - he also held the group record (until I took it in October). He’s actually a really good guy and a good programmer. I gave him a bad time when he first joined the company – which I feel bad about now. Before he came on board all the managers were gushing about how great he is. He came from one of our biggest customers and knows the application really pretty well – so he hit the ground running.

About a week after he started working with us I found that he left his computer unlocked and had gone home. I added a startup script to his machine that displayed a file and logged him out. The file said:

"Security section has determined that you have not followed proper logout procedures – your computer was left logged in, unlocked, and unattended. This represents a security threat to company intellectual property. Your access to company computers and networks has been suspended pending an investigation. Your management has been notified."

I meant this as a joke, but the company is sufficiently up-tight that it is plausible that we might have a security section and they might take that kind of action. This really panicked Eric. I guess it would have panicked me too. He went to both Tony and Linda when he came in the next morning and tried to figure out how much trouble he was in. No one could figure out where security section was. No one was aware of any security policies requiring logging out. No one tried to hack into his machine and remove the script either. When I got in – around 10 as usual – I fixed his machine and apologized. Eric saw the humor in it I think, although maybe he was just really relieved. Dave though it was irresponsible and childish, and he let me know it. But he wasn’t my boss back then.

Anyway, in October I put in some extra hours and got my fix count higher than Eric's record before I went on vacation. I figured that Dave couldn’t argue with my productivity. My reward for the hard work is a weekly 5 a.m. meeting.

I’m going to check monster.com now

What ever happened to her...

Did you ever google an old flame, just to see what happened to them?

Yes, it's snoopy and needy, and all kinds of other bad things - and a waste of time. But I did it. The hot girl from college - who was waaaay out of my league. Yes, she dated me a few times. And it was really nice. I knew she wouldn't stay with me, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. She has a pretty unusual name, so she came up on page one of the search, all these years later.

And there she was, in pictures with some guy. Over and over again, the same guy. Pictures taken at charity events, where they clearly were significant donors - enough to be noted in the local papers and websites. It wasn't her father, but he was old enough. Clearly an item - although she still has her maiden name. Married or not, who knows.

Then I googled him. He's wealthy. Not Forbes 500 wealthy, but enough to provide very well for those around him. He's well connected in the community. And 18 years older than her.

She looks happy (and still very sexy) in the pictures. I'm happy for her.

Bittersweet

I flew up highway 280 into San Francisco. Traffic was light. Finding parking around Union square is always a bit dicey near the holidays, but I found a garage quickly. It was expensive, but what the heck, I was getting a free dinner at Postrio – so no problem.

The city was cold and there was a slight drizzle, but it was not foggy. I walked over to the main Brooks Brothers store and found Maurizio being fitted for a very conservative classic blue blazer. It actually looked good on him. But, then, even a burlap sack would look good on Maurizio. He's just one of those guys.

“Hey, Rich!” he called when he saw me in the mirror.

“So how was Tahoe?” I asked. “Give me details.” I didn’t really want details – but Maurizio liked being asked, and he’ll probably give them anyway.

He signed, “You know, when you plan for something and work hard for it, and get all excited in the process, and get yourself all worked up?”

“Yeah…”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, it just wasn’t there. I don’t know, the magic, it just wasn’t what I was expecting.” He turned his head to look at me. The tailor, fiddling with some pins, got annoyed and waited for Maurizio to straighten up. “We skied.”

“Ouch, I though you were planning to forget your bindings?”

“I did. We rented.”

“Ooooh, that hurts. So I’m confused here. You’re in love, we’re dining at ‘money is no object’ Postrio, so I can meet the guy. And there’s no magic.” The tailor realized that we are talking about a guy, and smiles slightly.

“No, it’s not like that. I am in love. I just don’t think he is.”

“That’s why were here isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He checked the sleeves in the mirror.

“Why not just get the next one that comes along, they always find you.” The tailor’s eyes widened as he paused in his pinning. Maurizio shook his head.

“This guy must be really special.” I said.

______________________________________________________________

Dinner at Postrio was wonderful. The house smoked salmon is awesome. I had a seared ahi with coconut curry sauce. I need to make more money. I could live like this everyday. We drank 2 bottles of a really good Napa Cab. Sorry, but I didn’t recognize the label, I don’t remember the winery.

As for Stuart, I didn’t see it. Not that I always can with Maurizio. But most of his boyfriends are just genuinely attractive people. You can just look at them and say, “Yeah, I get it.” Not this time. He was quite personable and charming. He just didn’t strike me as something really special.

This may be a first. I think Maurizio’s suffering from unrequited love. Poor guy.

Dinner at Lynn's

On Tuesday there was an impromptu dinner at Lynn’s house. Jim (her significant other) had gone off on a business trip to I’m not sure where. Lynn decided to have everyone who was not overloaded with shopping and the last minute Christmas rush to her house for dinner.

There were cold cuts, finger food, and some good crusty artisan bread. I told her I would be by and bring some wine. Eric, Deepa, and Linda all agreed to come out. I arrived at Lynn’s house a little (fashionably?) late. Everyone was there.

The table in the kitchen was set up for making your own sandwich and salads. There was a cheery fire going. Everyone was sitting in the livingroom. We talked about work, relationships, and drinking. A good time was had by all.

The party was winding down, and I in my usual fashion, had had too much to drink to legally and safely drive home. Lynn was prepared for this and had the guest room already made up for me (what a sweetie). After the last of the guests left, we sat in front of the fireplace with Max and had another glass of wine.

“You know,” she said, “I think I actually like it better when he is gone than when he is around.” referring to Jim.

“That’s not good. Trouble in paradise?” I asked.

“Oh always” she casually replied.

She said nothing more about it. She asked about Maurizio’s new boyfriend, and we chatted about various and sundry subjects.

Another Man-date...

...and it's a threesome.

I got a call from Maurizio (formerly Joe) today. “Rich, come have dinner with me and Stuart. We’re going to Postiro”

I do not need to be asked twice to dine at Postrio “I’m there” I replied quickly. “What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“I’m in love, I don’t need an occasion. Oh, and can you meet me early at Brooks Brothers on Post street?”

“Brooks Brothers? Why?”

“Stuart is a very MBA button down type, I need some new clothes. I don’t have anything ‘Brooks Brothers’-ish. Is that a word?”

“OK, now you’re starting to sound gay”

“Oh, Shut up. I’m going to get some new clothes, which my partner will find attractive, so I will get more sex. It’s pretty simple. It’s not like is an engagement ring or anything.”

“Can you get married now? Damn shame about that prop-8. What time should we meet?”

“Dinner’s at 8. I’ll be at Brooks Brothers at about 6 – you can meet me there.”

“A little guy talk before dinner?”

“Yeah, man stuff” he said in an extra deep voice “Football and pussies.”

We laughed.

Hot Passion

It's odd. I've been drinking it for years now. Passion Tea from Tazo. I'll often buy it as an afternoon drink at Starbucks - where I sit and blog, and escape from the office for a little while. At Starbucks it is usually served iced, so you need to ask for it hot, if you want it that way.

I ordered one a few days ago, and the barista called out to an assistant "Hot Passion, Grande." And it suddenly hit me. I giggled.

So today, when I was ordering my tea, I went up to the cute barista and boldly asked "I'd like some hot passion, please. Grande."

She didn't blush, she didn't even blink.

I'm now quietly enjoying some hot passion, at a corner table at my local Starbucks.

Windsurfing

On Saturday, Jim and I went windsurfing in Half Moon Bay, about 20 miles south of San Francisco. The water is colder than on the bay and the wind is weaker, but I just couldn’t get myself to surf on the bay. I need to plan a trip to Maui.

The day turned out to be pretty decent - temperatures in the low 50s, with winds and clouds as the afternoon progressed, but winds are a good thing when windsurfing. Better than a typical December day. I decided to pack the dry-suit and fleece. It would be hot if I stayed up the entire day – that’s pretty unlikely. The water off Half Moon Bay runs about 52 degrees (F)this time of year.

I loaded up the windsurfer and a couple bottles of a Sterling Merlot into the truck. (I’d be having dinner at Jim and Lynn’s and I did not want to arrive empty handed.) And I headed out to pick up Jim.

----------

I guess I really do like windsurfing. If I can do it in December in Northern California – and really enjoy it – I’m either crazy or a real fanatic. Possibly both. We finished up at about 3:00 and hosed ourselves and our equipment off and packed up the truck again. I drove back to Milpitas. We got to Jim’s place about 4:30. It was staring to get dusky and cold. There we did a more thorough cleaning of the windsurfers and dry suit (Jim took a wet suit – big mistake today) out on the back deck.

I went inside to take a shower. Lynn was working on linguine with clam sauce. I’m not a big fan of mollusks, but Lynn does make a really good clam sauce. The smell was delicious. When I finished my shower and put my things away I sat at the counter between the kitchen and the dining room and watched Lynn finish cooking.

Jim opened a bottle of wine – an Antinori Chianti – and poured us all a glass. Then he threw me a "Victoria’s Secret" catalog. "Here Rich," he said a little too loudly, "see if there is something you’d like to order." I could feel myself blushing – a terrible result of a catholic up bringing (and having no tan whatsoever). "And that’s a nice shade of red." Jim quipped. I flipped through the catalog.

Just before dinner I went out to the truck to get the bottles of wine. I handed them to Jim. "Here, I brought these. They should go well with dinner." I said. Jim looked at them and then at Lynn. "Oh look," he said, "some Merlot." He pronounced it mer-LOT with an emphasis on the "t". "OK, how long have you and Lynn been having an affair?" he asked.

"Huh" I said, somewhat stunned. Of course, I should have said, "I can’t remember when we started, but it’s been a while." Or something witty like that Jim smiled.

"This is Lynn’s favorite wine."

"Yeah, I know." I smiled back. I happened to know that his favorite drink was bud light. I guess I’m getting paranoid. His affair remark took me by surprise.

After dinner, we sat in the living room and I started a fire in the fireplace. Jim sat on the couch with a beer and promptly fell asleep. Being in the water without sufficient thermal protection can drain a lot of energy out of you. Lynn and I sat on the floor on a sheepskin rug that they had bought on a trip to Australia a couple of year’s back. Max, their dog, lay down in front of the fire and sighed heavily. I had a wonderful feeling of contentment.

Lynn and I finished one bottle of Merlot and started into the second. We talked about nothing in particular. Jim woke up and kissed Lynn, he apologized to me for nodding off. Then he went off to bed.

"It’s gone" Lynn said

"What?" I answered quickly – still thinking about the affair remark (this was sticking in my head far too long)

"I’m not sure." She said. "For the first time since your break-up I think you seem… I don’t know, relaxed. No that’s not right." She paused, searching for the right words. "You’re over her, aren’t you?" I considered this and thought about how I felt. I wasn’t over Sarah (girl that left me at the altar). Lynn laughed, she pushed me on the arm. "I’m sorry." She said. "Now it’s back again." Now, more seriously she said, "I didn’t mean to bring it back up."

"Is it really that obvious?" I asked

"I can see right through you." She said, lapsing into a strong pidgin accent – which she often did after about a bottle of wine. "What really happened with her?" She asked. I gazed into the fire. Silent. "It’ll help to get it out" I sat up and reached for the bottle and poured the remainder into our glasses. Hers first, so she wouldn’t get the dregs (even though this was filtered wine – it was red). "Is it that good?" she asked.

"No, not really." I replied. "The really sad thing is that I don’t know what ended it. You know, there was no fight. No big disagreement. Nothing. It just ended."

"Oh come on. You were engaged. You have to know something."

"Yeah. Well, we had decided to get married. I bought the ring and did the ‘down on one knee’ thing and properly proposed. She said that I needed to talk to her father. So we flew to Hawaii and I asked her father for permission to marry her. Funny, a nice Japanese girl with proper European traditions. He is a great guy. I would have liked to have him for a father-in law. We sat out on his back patio and talked about a lot of things, and then he gets out this bottle of ‘royal salute’ you know, 21 year old Crown Royal. This thing is so old that the cork crumbles when he takes it out."

"Was it any good?"

"It was great. He said he had it for about 20 years. I never had 40-something year old scotch before. Although, I’m told that scotch doesn’t age in the bottle. Still, it was cool of him. "I get his blessing and we come back to Mountain View. We’re making plans for the wedding, about 500 people from her side and about 20 from mine. She’s getting the dress made and dealing with everything."

"Are you helping?"

"Yeah, I mean I’m trying. It’s hard for guys to get into weddings and all, but I’m involved in the planning and supporting her through it. I’m not dragging my feet. Anyway, about a week before we are supposed to get married, she kinda flips out. She goes back to Hawaii to talk to some girlfriends – and I can’t come. I talked one of her friends later. She told me that Sarah was really torn about what to do. Sarah really liked that I love her just for her – this is the first relationship where she felt unconditional love, but that her heart wasn’t in it any more. Is it better to be with someone who loves you, or someone you love?"

"Hold out for both."

"Yeah, if you’re really lucky." I scoffed. "Well, she comes back to Mountain View and tells me that she doesn’t want to get married. This is 2 days before the wedding, I’m supposed to leave that day for Honolulu on non-refundable tickets. We’ve got thousands in deposits at caterers, the church, the hotel. Ugh!"

"What reason does she give you?"

"She doesn’t say. She tells me how she was feeling less and less in love with me over the past year and how she doesn’t care anymore. She wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me."

"It was cold feet. You got left at the altar." Lynn laughed.

"Do you see some cosmic justice in that?" I asked

"Yes! For the longest time she wanted to get married and you kept dragging your feet. You finally come around, and she’s lost interest." Lynn laughed again. "I think Shakespeare wrote a play on this."

"I don’t know. I really was ready to get married. I loved her."

"I remember how much she wanted to get married. I think sometimes women keep pushing to get married and they get caught up in the fight. You know, trying so hard to make it happen, that once they get there they wonder why they worked so hard. What was so important?"

"No, then there is the push to have kids."

"You were probably lucky. She figured it out before you said ‘I do’."

"I don’t feel lucky." I finished the wine in my glass.

"Have you called her since? It doesn’t make sense that that would be the end without a reason."

"I’ve written to her a few times. Voice-mail, e-mail. No reply. I want her to know that we could talk, but I don’t want her to think that I’m stalking her." I watched Lynn twist the (huge) diamond ring on the finger of her left hand. "How about you?"

Lynn never seemed to me the ‘desperate to get married’ type. "No date set, it doesn’t bother me. I never wanted to get a ring. I’d rather just get married – if you’re going to do it, do it. If you’re not, don’t. We won’t have a big wedding any way"

"You? Don’t you have the big family back home?"

"Yeah, but the folks can’t take Jim. They’ll never hold a wedding for me and him. It’s not worth the fight."

"Too old?" I asked. Jim is 40 something (and looks a bit older, balding with gray hair and a bit of a middle age spread) and can be a bit of an asshole at times. Lynn is 29. I could see how her family wouldn’t be thrilled. Here eyes widened.

"You used the past tense," she said. "Huh?"

"You said ‘loved’ – past tense. That’s the first time, a few minutes ago. It just clicked – God, I’ve had too much wine." She paused. "Good night. You’ll be over it soon."

I spread out the embers in the fireplace and showed myself to the guest bedroom. Max followed me.

------------

Sunday morning I got up fairly early. I rummaged through the kitchen for some food and started the coffee. I don’t know if it’s Jim or Lynn, but there is always a fresh pint of buttermilk and a pound of bacon in the fridge whenever I am planning to stay overnight here. As usual, I made up a batch of buttermilk pancakes from scratch. The smell of bacon seemed to rouse them from their sleep. Jim came out first and scarfed down a stack of pancakes.

"How’d you sleep" he asked.

"Max needs some flea powder or something. He kept scratching and jiggling his dog tags – it kept waking me up." I complained. Max, their dog, slept at the foot of the bed in the guest bedroom last night.

"Why didn’t you take his collar off?"

"I don’t know"

"What’s the matter, you never undressed a dog in the dark before?" He laughed at his own joke.

A bit later Lynn came out. "Good morning" she chirped. "How’d you sleep?"

"He was a little too shy to get a good night’s rest" Jim reported, and then he retold his joke.

I cleaned up the kitchen, Lynn helped. Then I read the Sunday morning paper. I left for home about noon and promptly took a nap for most of the afternoon.

Dinner with Maurizio

I arrived at the Brewpub a bit before 7:00. I sat outside in front of a gas fire-pit, near one of the heat lamps they have set out to ward off the chill from the Pacific. I chatted with one of the waitresses who recognized me as a regular and waved to the bartender. There would be live music inside later and it can be a bit loud. I wanted to hear Maurizio’s stories so I sat outside.

I got myself an IPA, which is my favorite of their regular lineup of beers. I ordered some calamari and the fresh Ahi poke as starters. I hate mollusks and won’t eat them, but Maurizio can’t get enough of the HMB calamari. I’ve never understood why folks insist on eating stuff that tastes and chews like bicycle tires.

Maurizio snuck up behind me. "Hey Rich!" he roared. "How’s it going? It’s been too long."

"Hey" I answered, stood up to shake his hand. He gave me a big bear hug. I gave him the armagnac. "Merry Christmas".

He handed me a bottle wrapped in a bag. He sat down next to me and immediately pointed out an attractive couple near the end of the bar. She was a very big haired blonde – I’ve never been attracted to blondes, but she was – I’ll have to admit – quite attractive. Her date was a well dressed heavy set guy, more muscle than fat.

"What are you looking at the eye candy for?" I asked "I though you had a new love."

"I do. I love the start of a new affair. You always get dressed up for each other, always doing nice things. You hold in your farts."

"You’re such a romantic."

"You know what I mean. There’s that sizzle when you see each other, the sexual tension – before you start to take each other for granted. I’m hooked on it." He was enthused.

"And then it ends." I said glumly.

"You know how to bring down a party." Our appetizers arrived. He dug into his calamari. The poke was great. The food here isn't all that great, but there something about the atmosphere and the friends that makes it seem so tasty. It's hard to get good poke outside of Hawaii, and these guys do a pretty good job.

"I remember when I started dating Sarah. She used to come over to my apartment and we would make out on the couch. Sometimes for hours – not even have sex, just kiss passionately until the sun started to come up. The next day I could smell her on my shirt and on the sofa. Not just her perfume, but her. It was so wonderful" I paused. "Now sometimes I get a faint smell of something like that. It takes me back. I get an incredible emptiness inside. I could just cry."

"That…" Maurizio paused to take a sip of beer. "That," he started again in an accusing tone "is the gayest thing you have ever said to me."

And Maurizio should know. As he is the gayest person I know. Actually, that’s not fair. He is not flaming – you can’t tell by talking with him or watching him what his preferences are in the bedroom. But he doesn’t hide it.

Maurizio went on to tell me about his new lover, Stuart. He was 23 and getting his MBA from Golden Gate University. A hardbody – all Maurizio's lovers are. Maurizio went on about his new beau for all through dinner and then some. He is truly infatuated, and happy.

Maurizio has the body of a Greek god, and a strong chiseled face. Some guys get all the luck. And it’s wasted on him. He gets phone numbers from girls all the time. I’m serious, they just walk up to him and hand ‘em over. That has never happened to me.

He is taking Stuart up to Allison’s cabin, a small cozy spot with a view of lake Tahoe on the Nevada side of the border. I was there with Sarah last year and it is incredibly romantic. Maurizio will have a great time.

Sonya Jason was playing yesterday. After dinner Maurizio and I went inside to listen for a while. She's pretty good.

Expensing your visit to the, uh, gentleman's club

So during my recent visit to the gentleman's club, my associate from the London office took care of the admission charge, grabbed the tab at the end of the night and purchased - ahem - "favors" for our guests. He even made sure that they had lots of 5 pound notes (there is no one pound note, this is a coin now) for tipping the girls. I was quite relieved, as I was not going to put a visit to the nudie-bar on my expense account. And this place was a bit more expensive than I wanted to spend on voyeurism out of my own pocket.

I asked him how he was going to expense this. I didn't think he was taking it out of his own pocket. It turns out that the club gave him a very innocent looking receipt - it looked quite like a restaurant bill - albeit, a very expensive restaurant. It was nicely itemized with what looked like appetizers, salads, and mains, and of course, lots of drinks.

Huh. I never knew.

Deck the Halls

Lynn stopped by my office. "Can you help me put this up?" she asked holding a sprig of mistletoe with festive red ribbons in it.

"I’m guessing HR hasn’t cleared this." I said with a bit of concern.

"So what? It’s Christmas." Most folks had decorated their cubicles with lights and cards for the holidays. Lynn had spent a couple hours decorating her cubicle. She wanted me to hang the mistletoe from the false ceiling tiles with a bent paperclip.

"I just don’t want to be implicated in the sexual harassment suit."

"Harass is two words." She said.

"They should make more women like you." I said, and really meant it.

Standing on a wheeled desk chair and using the cubicle wall for support I hung the mistletoe above the entry to her cubicle. I could just barely reach the ceiling. I climbed down and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas" I said.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow night?" She asked.

"Yeah, I’m having dinner with Maurizio. You want to come along?"

"Nah, Jim’s having some friends over. I though you might want to come by. Where are you and Maurizio going?"

"Half Moon Bay Brewing. He’s got some new honey that he needs to tell me all about."

Just then Dave (boss man) turned the corner and gave me what seemed like a glare.

"Have you checked the linker options? It’s probably got a problem with the shared library path." I said for Dave’s benefit.

Dave looked up the mistletoe and shook his head slowly. He walked away without saying anything.

Dinner Plans

Today I got a call from my good friend Maurizio. I need to make sure that I get him his gift before Christmas. Maurizio lives in "the city" (San Francisco). He is a big fan of armagnac – the cognac equivalent of a single malt scotch. I got him a really nice bottle.

"How about Aldos’s on Saturday?" I asked, suggesting a place to meet. Aldos is a venerable institution in Santa Cruz across the harbor from the Crow’s nest.

"I can’t. I’m going away for the weekend. I can wait to tell you. I have a new honey." He gushed.

"Another one? Where do you find them?"

"Oh they find me." He said. "You should get back in the game. It’s been months. Do you think your dick still works?"

"Where are you going?" I tried to change the subject. I was at work and I didn’t really want to discuss my plumbing in a cubicle environment.

"Up to Tahoe. We are borrowing Allison’s cabin. It’s going to be so romantic. I can’t wait to get in that hot tub, with the snow falling all around us…"

Maurizio is an incurable romantic, but goes from relationship to relationship faster than anyone I know. "You going to do any skiing?"

"I hope we don’t get out of the cabin. I think I’ll ‘accidentally’ forget my bindings."

"You sly dog, you. You want to grab something to eat on Thursday?"

"Let’s go to HMB." He was referring to the Half Moon Bay Brewing Company. A brewpub near the beach and one of my favorite places to kill liver cells. "7 OK with you?"

"I’ll see you then."

Out with the Winos

I got the early flight out of Munich, so that I could join my friends on our annual trip to the winery Christmas festivals. Once again a long flight in coach, but a lighter than expected headwind got us into SFO early.

From there I met Lynn and crew at the David Bruce winery where we tasted a bit, and then moved on to Byington winery. Both wineries have annual Christmas festivals with wine tasting, music, food, and such on the first December weekend. It was a nice holiday festive atmosphere. They have holiday music, hot mulled cider, and some good eats. You can wander through the cellar areas and taste more wine than they usually have. The trip to David Bruce has become an annual event since one of our friends, Greg, lives near the winery and we can do all the wine tasting we wanted and then crash at his place. Thanks, Greg.

I hate Greg. Well, I shouldn’t say that. I mean – I’m just jealous of all that he has – youth, good looks, success. He is a couple of years older than me – went to Stanford and is a VP of something or other and has worked at a bunch of silicon valley start-ups. He bought a house in the Los Altos hills a few years ago. He paid cash, I’ve been told. He drives a bright red convertible Porsche – among other things. He survived the dot com crash better than most, and seems to have saved most of his investments from the current downturn.

Lynn was at the festival with Jim (her other half) and Stacey (her sister). Stacey will be driving back to L.A. tomorrow. Lynn told me that I should help Stacey get a more educated wine palate. She still seems to have a taste for sweet wines, but then she’s still a kid. I hate to try to get anyone to change their tastes. Good wine is wine that you like – the same goes for food – and just about everything else in life. And there is no accounting for taste. Anyway, I did have a nice time flirting with Stacey. She is so cute. To bad about the 8 hour drive between us.

As we were leaving the festival, Jim invited me to go windsurfing with him next weekend if the weather is good. Be serious. December, and the weather might be good?!? To someone from Hawaii? I didn’t say that, of course. I agreed to watch the forecast.

Duty Free Shopping

For the last couple of years, with the weak dollar, the duty free stores in Europe were a waste of time. Things were cheaper in the US. Not so any more.

Bought a nice armagnac for my buddy Joe. I'll give it to him for Christmas. He really loves the stuff - and it's hard to find the good stuff in the US. Armagnac is a single vineyard/cask cognac - sort of like a single malt scotch in the cognac world.

What a week

Has it only been a week? 3 countries. Lots of flights. Amazing experiences. But until today it seemed like non-stop work.

Today was my free day in Munich.

Google "what-to-do munich" and you'll pretty much find - "drink beer" (go to oktoberfest).

Here's what I did

• Went to the Marienplatz. Strolled through the pedestrian center of Munich
• Stopped at an open air market in the city center
• Had wiener schnitzel at a great restaurant for lunch.
• Went to a beer garden - yes, 34 degrees out, and they still have their beer gardens.
• Went to the Deutches Museum of science and technology - amazing place. I could spend a week there.
• And squeezed in a quick visit to the BMW factory and museum (it's a guy thing)

Thanks, Meg!

Note to self: Send flowers to Meg.

Meg is the girl at the corporate travel desk. She arranged all the air and hotels on this trip. Piss her off and you'll be taking your next flight sitting in the middle of the last row of seats on the plane that don't recline and are right in front of the lavatories, and you'll be sitting between two fat guys. I don't know how she arranges for the fat guys, but I've heard stories. If you're on her good side, she can make business travel a lot more comfortable.

Anyway, the hotels have been great - she found me some really good ones. Rooms are usually pretty tiny in Europe (unless you're paying a fortune). But all my rooms on this trip have been big. They are not all that expensive - usually around $200/night. Now I'm staying at the Anna hotel in downtown Munich. This is a great place. Uber chic (and I think I can say that, as I am in Germany). This is where Sidney Bristow (of Alias, my favorite TV show) would stay when she's in Munich. The restaurant and bar are ultra modern in design, lively but not too noisy - great energy.

I'm guy, so bathrooms are not usually a big deal with me (if it's functional - I'm happy). But the ones here at the Anna are notable. Heated slate floors, heated towel racks - nothing like a warm towel when stepping out of the shower - really nice when it's freezing outside. And the amenities - ok, yeah they have the soap, shampoo, and moisturizer. But the Anna hotel also thoughtfully includes a condom - just in case you need one. (sadly, I doubt I'll have the chance)

Thank you Meg for getting me into these nice hotels.

Unpacked

I get to stay in the same place for 4 nights.

Gutten Nacht

I'm sitting in a bar in Munich, in my best suit, drenched in white wine. You're probably thinking this had something to do with a girl, and you'd only be very slightly right. I'm going to dry off, then blog what happened.

The day started out so nicely. I awoke this morning at the Bear Hotel in Hungerford, west of London. They have a great restaurant, so treated myself to a full english breakfast, the sticks-to-your-arteries kind. I really like this place and wish I could have stayed longer. I had all day meetings with a customer. A pretty high pressure situation, but today was not so bad. We got most of the hard stuff done yesterday. We had time for a long lunch at a local pub.

Fashion is weird - well it is for guys in the technology field. If you show up to a technical meeting in San Jose wearing a tie, you instantly lose about 10 credibility points. You gain points for anything denim, and get bonus points for anything with from MIT or Stanford - even more if there are holes in it. However, in London, even in the technology field, you cannot be the alpha male in the room if you are not in a coat and tie. So today I was in a tailored designer suit.

After the meetings I made a mad panicked rush for the airport. One of my travel rules is never to take the last flight of the day to my destination, but in this case it was unavoidable. If I missed my flight, I missed an important meeting tomorrow morning in Munich. That fact made me a bit more anxious than usual as I made my way through London traffic and Heathrow's lines (queues, as they call them here). I just made my flight - but missed dinner. Ah, nothing like pretzels for dinner on the flight over.

I arrived in Munich at about 11:00 p.m. and caught a taxi to my hotel. Very fortunately, the kitchen was still open when I arrived (close to midnight) and I was able to get dinner - shrimp and linguine, mmm. (Actually, the menu was only in German, and that was the only thing I could make out. It was very good) Unfortunately, my waitress didn't have the steadiest hand in the bar. I ordered a nice german dry reisling, and she brought it with some drinks for the next table. After putting it down she proceeded to spill two glasses of wine on me - not just a minor splash, she got me good. And I swear, I didn't do anything to deserve it. Really. She was very apologetic and she has offered to pay for my dinner and the dry cleaning.

My German customer is pretty casual - so I won't need the suit for the rest of the trip.

London Calling...

After a brutally early flight from Stockholm, I landed in London. Here I needed to pick up a car and drive to our office west of London. All I can say is - driving on the left, sleep deprivation, and roundabouts - this is a very bad combination. But I made it without any major damage to the rental car, or any pedestrians.

Here in London I need to use the gray matter, unlike Stockholm, where I could get the job done using nothing but my winning smile and deft charm. And, today, thinking was a challenge.

After a full day of work, again we (myself and the folks from our London office) took the customers out for dinner, and then to a strip club (what century is this??). I don't get strip clubs. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not against nudity. No one appreciates the female form more than I do. But it's like going to a good restaurant, where you can see a steak being cooked, you can smell it, you can hear it sizzle - but you can't eat it. What an exercise in frustration. It is not fun. Next time you're in a strip club, take your eyes off the stage and look around at the patrons. It's sad. Like I said, I don't get it. Anyway, our customers seemed to enjoy themselves - which, I guess was the point.

Ended up staying at a great hotel built in the 13th century, but updated with all the modern conveniences- the bear hotel in Hungerford. Hungerford is a small town off the M4 expressway west of London and is fairly close to the customer's offices.

Tomorrow, a full day of work here in England, then rush to Heathrow to grab the last flight out to Munich.

Greetings from Stockholm

The flights over were uneventful. But whoever invented the coach airline seat was evil. Didn't sleep at all on the way over. Surprisingly warm here - a light rain with temperatures in the low 40s. I was expecting freezing conditions.

Landed in Stockholm and was picked up at the airport by Jan (pronounced "Yahn") from the local office. The company I work for has offices in most major cities around the world. Anyway, Jan took me out to the customer's office and we did the "group-hug". Made them feel better. Explained what we're going to do to make the product better in the future.

Then we went out for dinner, with some of the managers from the customer. The food was great - and there was lots of the local beer and then shots of Aquavit - which seems to be the Swedish national beverage. And it had been 36 hours since I was last asleep - not a great combination. Checked into the hotel at about 10 p.m. local time - and promptly fell asleep - for 2 hours. Now it's 3:00 a.m. local time (that's 6:00 p.m. back home) and I'm wide awake.

Just as well, I have a 6:00 a.m. flight to London. And I need to leave for the airport soon. Unfortunate to make it all the way to Stockholm and see so little of the city.