I think everyone's work desk has nick nacks on it.  Some of mine are probably quite esoteric.  Some of my favorite however, are my pen, and my trackball.

Long long ago, I think when I graduated high school, Ray got me this pen.  It's not a Monte Blanc or something nuts.  But, I love this pen.  A fountain pen, with a nib that knows how I write.  In a world where we really don't write much beyond our signatures on a restaurant check, penmanship is becoming a lost art.  The joy of writing with a fountain pen, is found after years of use.  The writing nib slowly melds into and becomes one with it's owners writing style.  The results are smooth clean lines that simply glide along paper.  It's messy to fill.  The INK I use can be easily bled out and leave me vulnerable to check fraud.  Really though, for the notes I take, this is writing heaven.  Sure, you can replicate this almost completely with a high end gel roller.  But there's no drama with those.  There's lots of drama and a sense of frivolity when using a fountain pen.  Too bad the ink bleeds through my moleskine.

This is my much loved Kensington Expert Mouse.  For mouse aficionados, this is the v5 model.  I got this mouse after a good friend was in a money crunch.  I bought this from him in either '96 or '97 for $50.  It has been on my desk hooked up to one of my computers ever since.  It's horrible for playing games.  Hopeless really.  But when used for normal desktop productivity, it shines.  Endlessly customizable, application aware, and ergonomically dominating a typical mouse, it's sad that Kensington's new slimBlade version is crippled by it's software.

Small things.  Familiar things.  Things that tie me to my past, as I push on working in the present.

Monday got the better of me.  While eating lunch yesterday I hear odd sounds by my feet.  Sounds that could only mean a cat is up to no good.  A cat is yacking up a furball.  

Me: "Awh man, I don't want to clean that up."
Me: "Well, maybe if I wait until Eliza gets home, she'll see and she will clean it up!"
Me: "Yeah that's what I'm going to do."

So, I stack my dishes in the sink and go upstairs to the office to finish off the work day.  I have a long day and don't leave the office until about 7PM.  I run down stairs to a darkened house.  Eliza's not home yet and I want to have dinner ready before she gets here.  I flip on all the lights in the kitchen.  They are florescent and taking a while to warm up.  I walk over to a halogen light as I take a swig from my coca cola, and wham!  I slip and slam my knee on the floor, right hand clenching the coke bottle and making sure it doesn't spill.

Me: "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Me: "What the heck did I just slip on, was it a piece of paper?"
Me: "Why is my foot wet?  I didn't spill any coke..."

And then it dawns on me.

Me: "I am going to kill that cat..."

I begin cleaning up the mess that is now ten times the size since my foot spread it all across the floor.  I rub my left knee as I wipe up the cold fluid.  A very cinderella like moment with the cats watching me like they were my step sisters.  I'm grumbling.  I'm unhappy.  I'm blaming the cat.  Of course, the cat wasn't at fault really.  If I had just cleaned up the mess when I had lunch, I wouldn't have a bruised knee and an unhappy disposition.  That didn't matter.  It was the cat's fault.  All the cat's fault.

Instead of heading out for a ride, we ended up staying home working on our lawn.  Our large maple dropped all of it's leaves and left us with a yellow blanket several layers deep.  My body is still sour from raking and vac mulching all of it down.

After last years trials and tribulations with fall leaves, we bought a Toro leaf blower vac in the spring.  The one with the metal impeller.  It can take one big pile of leaves and reduce it to a claimed 16 to 1.  I would say that it doesn't really do 16 to 1, but something more in the neighborhood of 10 to 1.  Having said that, i had to empty out the blowers bag about 12 times!  Still, I love our big tree.  It makes the back yard feel cozy.

We did get out of the house though.  In an attempt to hide from trick or treaters, Eliza dragged me out to the Statesville Haunted Prison on Holloween.  This haunted house was lightyears from what I was expecting, in a very good way.  Sadly, I don't really scare easy.  Upon seeing the disfigured faces and flesh wounds, running through my head was, "I need to get some silicone and paint."  Some of them had UV reflective paint on their faces, and all I could think was, "Hmmm, I wonder if they mixed bleach and flour to get that effect?"  Still, I was highly entertained.  The mirror room was probably the best for me.  Ghoulish figures, strobe lighting, and mirrors make a terrific effect.

All visitors were let into the maze about ten at a time.  It is really worth it to be leading your group and have a slow pace.  Being at the back or middle of the pack would be dreadfully boring.  Being first and having ghouls, ghosts, and props flying at you in the dark totally made it worth the rather expensive VIP ticket.

Hopefully this mild indian summer weather we have will last a few more days.  I have more yard work to do.  More leaves to mulch, winter fertilizer to put down, and one last gutter cleaning before Old man winter comes into town.