Rations are getting scarce. I fear the battle is not going well.

I have stepped up tactics to draw more attention. I can only hope this will result in more food soon. I’ve started hiding rations for later use. There is no telling when the food will completely run out. This morning I hid a tuna flavored soft shell in a pile of pants in the laundry room. With the security gate in place, I’ll be able to retreat there if things get worse.

Diet warfare must be illegal. Must find counsel. Body and hope dwindling.

-Winson T.

As we ate dinner last night, Greg mentioned that his office manager had passed out company calendars to everyone. Each month has a picture of some new technology related to their graphics cards. For example, February’s picture shows the Mars rover because Nvidia was involved in developing technology for that nifty vehicle.

Clearly the office manager delivered the calendars a little late. Greg hemmed and hawed about how he wouldn’t ever get a chance to display the January picture. You can understand his disappointment given that the January picture was a breast. Yes, that is correct. A breast. A boob. But not a real breast, Greg clarified. He couldn’t quite explain the picture though.

“It’s not an x-ray,” he said. “But it’s a picture showing the …” The breast left him speechless.

“Like in a textbook?” I asked.

“Yes!” he said, looking relieved that I finally grasped the concept. “But I’ll never get to look at it because January has already passed.”

It is no coincidence that these calendars didn’t get passed out until February. Only a handful of women work in Greg’s office, and the manager who passed them out is one of those women.

I think Nvidia was trying to provide a helpful service to its employees. This was their way of saying, “Hey, if you work here, we know you must be pretty nerdy. You’re probably having a tough time with the ladies. So in case you never get to see one of these things in person, well, here’s what you missed.”

I’ve pestered Greg a lot lately about going to San Antonio. Even back when we lived in Illinois we had considered a vacation there, and now that we live 90 miles away, I can’t believe that we still haven’t been. But Greg, poky, lackadaisical Greg, who if his hair were on fire would slowly saunter into the kitchen, stop at the fridge for a drink of chocolate milk, and minutes later reach the sink to snuff the flames, well, he’s in no rush.

“I think we should go to San Antonio tomorrow because the weather is supposed to be beautiful,” I said.
“Why tomorrow?” Greg asked.
“Because we keep putting this off, and we’re never going to go,” I said.
“Why are you in such a hurry to go?” Greg asked.
“We’ve lived here for a year and a half now, and frankly, it’s getting embarrassing that we haven’t been to any other cities,” I said. “But … hmm … if we go we probably won’t get back in time to watch the Super Bowl. And it seems like we should watch it given that the Bears are in it.”

So we decided to delay our trip again. A few minutes later, Greg’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the phone number on the caller ID, so he didn’t answer. “830?” he said, quizzically. “Do you know where 830 is?”

“No, but we can Google it,” I said.

We did. It was San Antonio. We don’t know anyone in San Antonio.
“San Antonio is calling you,” I said. “It wants you to come for a visit right away.”

“How did you do that?” Greg asked, sounding amazed.

“I can control things with my mind,” I said. “Behold the power.”