My brother, the sheep farmer

A little background: my family, were it to choose an originating nationality, would go for the Scots. We're actually mostly English, with enough Irish to account for Dru's red beard, but at least half the family owns a kilt. And even wears it on a regular basis.

Ah, Scotland. Where the men are men and the sheep run scared.

So when I read my father's email about my brother's latest letter to him, wherein Dru details his latest purchase: a pregnant sheep, I about died laughing. Sheep! Brother! Scotland depraved!

And on the very next line, Dad says he is watching the Highlander movie.

This shouldn't be so hilariously funny, but it is. I need to go breathe now.

Anniversary

I wrote half of this up yesterday, forgot to post, and then I needed to reboot this morning.

I've been here a whole year. Me, employed, one place. 367 days as of today.

It's kind of stunning. I only remembered when my boss emailed me a self-evaluation form and told me we were gonna get the yearly performance review done next Tuesday. I've never had to do this before, and I'm equally thrilled and nervous. Ten months was my previous record - ten month contract to Colorado College, and a three month temp thing stretched to ten at the Foundation. (Which says something about my charm or my persistence or both.)

So now I need to tell my boss exactly how much ass I kick at work, without mentioning the predilection for laziness and reading porn at work. (Which, judging from last year's journal entries, I started doing as of day one.)

But still. Wow. A whole year.