Last week I was in Nags Head, NC with friends for our fourth annual Friends Beach Trip.
These guys came:
And so did these guys:
And these guys came to teach everyone how to expertly boogie board:
I was there, too!
We started July 4th with a salute to the Star Spangled Banner at 10 a.m. and continued it with American beer:
In between days with too-cold water and jelly fish-infested water, we played in the ocean:
And Benjamin enjoyed his half-day before having to head home to go back to work. Adulthood sucks.
Jessie was not a fan of Benjamin’s early departure:
But we managed to get a group photo before he left (unfortunately we were missing D for this one):
After showering up from the beach, our America celebration continued with matching (blurry) girls:
And unruly boys:
And slightly less unruly (blurry) boys:
Despite many, many attempts, Jessie and I got a blurry picture:
We feasted like champions the next morning on gourmet breakfasts of mac-and-cheese-with-cut-up-hot-dogs, pasta salad and eggs.
On the last night before all the friends left, we had an accidental/mandatory uniform night:
And on Wednesday we had a fancy group lunch at Sonic before everyone left Hugh and me to fend for ourselves the rest of the week.
It was quite the pig-out session and it was Jessie’s very first Sonic experience:
I think she liked it.
Then we said goodbye, everyone left, and Hugh and I went back to the big, empty beach house and settled into our friendless depression.
Just kidding, it wasn’t that bad.
But I will save that update for tomorrow.
We all know what happens when something changes in the way we’re supposed to do things at work.
We used to take a PDF of a paper, add the images, call it a PiP, save it on a drive.
Close out an entry in a database which relied on software that was last updated in 1994.
Move the folder with all the files to be eventually published to a drive where copy editors would start working on it.
Create a mail merge file.
Print two copies.
Send an email to the database_specialist.
Hand deliver a title page and a coversheet to the database_specialist.
Click a button.
And, voila, a manuscript was sent to production.
Last week we ushered in an era in which the verification of a few bits of information, a quick check of the files and the click of a button would replace the long, wasteful practice we’re used to.
So, ignoring the possible implications this could have on the usefulness of our jobs, we celebrated.
Yes, those are hand-crafted paper chain streamers.
(I had nothing to do with this).
And they are made of all those coversheets we’d been printing two copies of and hand-delivering.
If you squint you can see the remnants of this paper’s author list.
Last week — the whole operation and every bit of chaos it caused — was truly our own wonderful little piece of Office Space.
PS – this post was supposed to publish Friday and it made me ever so sad to log in today and notice it hadn’t published when it was a timely subject. Sigh.