Where's Nate?

living large in the four-oh-eight. wicked large.


quiet. too quiet.

My email is silent. So is my cell phone. And my IM client. It reminds me of my undergrad summers, back in the days before smileys and Bluetooth. Perhaps I should be celebrating. After all, it's only a matter of time before it starts getting pretty noisy around here.

The first few days back in the Bay have been simultaneously busy and relaxing. I fixed our sprinkler system, washed the windows, got the biennial smog check for the VW, made an appointment to fix the humping attic squirrel situation, and acted all domestic for the first 72 hours. Then, this afternoon, I sat in my backyard with Fenway, drank a latte, and surfed the web. Sweet.

The big chatter around here is about Barry Bonds and his march toward history. This anticipation has dwarfed the Sharks impressive early run in the NHL playoffs. San Jose? A hockey town? Almost.


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