Six years ago, we brought Bella home from Sausalito. She agreed to at least eight years on her Krikitt Downs contract, and has been doing pretty well so far with her end of the bargain.

Yesterday was Bella's birthday. Better yet, it was her golden birthday: she turned 14 on the 14th. We really should have celebrated yesterday as an incredible birthday for her, but, well, we pretty much forgot about yesterday.

Fortunately, we didn't forget today. Instead, we celebrated in style. We were originally planning a lamb and rice dish for her, with a dessert of strawberry slices, but realized we ran out of rice. Instead, she celebrated with lamb and her regular food, ending with doggie crack.

She seemed to really love it. Not that she'd really mind eating animal flesh, right? She's not really a vegan or anything

Happy birthday, Bella Girl! Remember, you have two more years to go on your contract!

Kris helped me remove the stitches from Annie's ear this morning. Technically, we were supposed to take her to the vet to have them removed, but, well, they're stitches. Once the wound has healed, there's no harm in taking out the stitches oneself. I speak from experience on that one. Far far far too much experience on that one.

Her ear looks good, as good as an ear that's been ripped apart by a pit bull can look, that is.

Unlike most of my tech friends, I haven't had a presence on Wikipedia. Since they discourage vanity pages, and I didn't get in during the free-for-all hey-day of its beginnings, I'm pretty much screwed in terms of having my own page. So, no love for me.

Until yesterday, that is.

With the reference in various local venture sites, the HackerDojo is on Wikipedia, and therefore, as Founding Director, so am I. I should have made this a lifetime goal, just so that I could check it off.

It's been one year since I started working at Doyle's company with him. One year, and five projects later, I'm still working with him. Not all of the projects have been smooth projects, and not all of the projects have been with Doyle. I've had two projects I've done completely independently of him, initially feeling guilty that I was assigned the COOL! NEW! project while Doyle was assigned the fix this site or upgrade that project or work on this long slow project that needs to get done but no one really wants to do projects.

I've also survived three rounds of layouts, er, reductions in workforce. The first one had me a bit guilty, since I essentially took someone's job by accepting the contract. That person hadn't been either a strong programmer or experienced in the skill sets the company needed, so that layoff wasn't bad. The next round of layoffs was more than a little surprising, but the third round was incredibly shocking, both to the people who were laid off and the people who remained. I found out about it the day we returned from Ireland and I went into work before everyone else because, hey, I was up early on Irish time, why not?

When I found out about those layoffs, I let the director who signs OK on my invoices that if Doyle goes, I go, too. Unless, of course, he goes on his own free will, but even then, I doubt very, very much I'd stay around. Doyle is why I'm working that that company and a HUGE part of why I stay: lose him, I go, too. Mark commented that, well, when they let Doyle go, he'll be following right behind him, making me feel better.

The remaining group I'm in is small: there are four developers, including me, one project manager and two very technical, hands on manager/directors. I very much enjoy working with most of them, and am working on working well with the others (and doing surprisingly well, given the innate differences in our personality styles).

I'm not sure the company as it is will be around in another year. I'm not sure the people who work there and make it an enjoyable place to work will be there. When they leave, I'll probably go, too.

Until then, I'm enjoying working with Doyle.

Today was a day of car and San Mateo. Kris had a doctor appointment in San Mateo at too-early o'clock, and needed me to drive him to the appointment and pick him up from the appointment. We've done this deal before, so I knew what to expect with the two to three hour wait. What I wasn't expecting, though, was having fewer than four hours of sleep the night before and needing to sleep.

After waiting with Kris in the doctor's office's waiting room until he was called in for his appointment, I went out to the car, crawled into the back seat, and passed out. I didn't manage a deep sleep of any sort, but I did manage to doze well enough that only the combination of many doors slamming in the car next to me and the screaming of a full bladder could wake me up. And wake me up they did.

I am, for the record, still amazed at how many people think that standing next to your car means you're leaving, and that they have the right to honk at you to enourage you to hurry up, even when you're not leaving. I succeeded in having two cars wait in the lot behind me, turn signal on, waiting for my parking spot, as I crawled into the back seat to pass out again after going to the bathroom. Because, you know, I must be leaving my parking spot, right?

After Kris was done with his appointment, and the two of us back home, I managed to work. That I managed to work among the cacophany of life happening in the house is a testament to my ability to focus. Between Heather's cooking and cleaning (did I mention bestest-roomie-evar? Thought so.), and the dogs' confusion that both Kris and I were home AGAIN oh-boy-this-means-food-and-walkies-and-lots-of-petting, the house was teeming in movement. Of course, my concentration actually meant putting up a gate and closing the door to the doggen, but, hey, sometimes we need a crutch, right?

Tomorrow, the Emerald City Classic starts, a three day ultimate tournament in Seattle. It used to be Spawnfest, I think, for the Mixed Division, but the division has become large enough to catch the attention of the Open and Women's tournament director, and the two merged. I could be wrong about that, but I think that's what happened.

Originally I had planned to go to the tournament and take stats. I don't really know why I keep torturing myself in this way. I enjoy playing with the team. I feel so lucky to be a part of such and amazing group of people. Standing on the sidelines, however, knowing that you won't go in and run run run, feel the grounds as you push off, the thunk of the disc as it stops spinning in your palm, the clench of the stomach as you pour everything into your legs getting them to move fast enough under you to keep from falling over forward, gosh, that's torture, even if the numbers that you get from the stats are fun and entertaining and quite enjoyable.

OF course, heading over to see Ben and Lisa afterward for a couple days, trying to fit into their schedule, was the real reason for heading off this weekend, and the biggest reason I'm disappointed I won't be going. Although I'm finding the 10-12 billable hours a day refreshing for the bank account, I'm finding missing out on that visit more disappointing.

Heather, however, is going to Seattle. She needed a ride to Mountain View to meet up with Warren and Steffi, who were driving up to the airport to catch their flights also to Seattle. Since I was heading back up to San Mateo to hang out briefly with Pickett, I offered to take Heather to SFO. When Mark asked for a ride, I knew I had volunteered well. Instead of a solo ride to San Mateo, I could drop both Heather and Mark off, too. Fun.

Hanging out with Pickett is awesome. I didn't stay long, my body wanting to shut down, despite my backseat nap this morning. I did manage to see his new garden, from the soil and seeds I dropped off two weeks ago as a thank you for taking care of me during my last migraine. I was sad to see the compost I gave him had lots of grass seeds in the compost, but Pickett seemed good natured about it.
Pickett and Nichole are talking about raising chickens in their small urban lot. She had selected the breeds she liked and had found a source, also. Pickett, however, was worried about the start of work for him after the summer off and the influx of family coming into town over the next few weeks.

You know, I think Pickett is the only other person with garden square footage rivalling mine. His strawberries are far more productive than mine are, though.

Oh, and 280 is so much faster that 101 at 5:30 in the evening.

Way.

I'm going to bed early tonight.