Pressure

I take back everything I said about being bored with the ad experiment.  Tonight I opened up my site to see  the very first ad and it was for GUNS;)    Now, I'm not a gun nut, but I love to hunt, insist in being armed in the home and can appreciate a long, blued barrel, freshly oiled and ready to rock.  I'm not a nickel-plated kind of guy and prefer to eat what I kill and kill what I eat.  So, the ad thingy gets to live for a week and hopefully produce calls to purchase midget porn, Cheeto's and cheap booze.
*****

Pressure is mounting here as we continue to work into the storm season, taking it's toll on gear and the crew.  It also mounts as I await some sort of decision from somebody, as to how closely my immediate future is tied to this current project.  Yesterday, I received the latest version of my flight itinerary, just as I took a call from PW.  Told her I was pretty pissed off as the flights were scheduled a day late, had to many tight connections, too many flights (6) and too many airlines (6).  In the end, it would've had me flying for roughly 47 hours, with little chance of making it home and no chance of my luggage surviving 6 different carriers. 

Our Captain is the liaison for all travel-related issues.  He deals with our lousy, corporate travel agent in London.  I emailed him a rather, long-winded diatribe, railing against the agent's uncaring and ineffectual attempts to fly me from point A to point B.  I cited our journey management and QHSE policies, the impact on my health, safety and sanity and in the end, suggesting a wonderfully simple set of flights with 4 less carriers, 2 less flights and longer layovers that still gets me home 10 hours earlier than their itinerary.  I figured, as usual, he would cut out the suggested flights and paste them into a slightly more benign and professional email to the travel agent and I would receive yet another round of shitty flights, sometime next week, or the week after.  Nope, he forwarded the whole spitting-mad manifesto to the agent.  By the time I woke up tonight they had responded with a one-line email saying they had booked my requested flights.  From now on I am done fucking around and will simply rain fire and brimstone down upon their heads when I initially request my flights home  Should'a pulled my finger out long ago, I guess.
****

Lately, nearly every day Mr. Bud has been sending pictures from home.  The closing of PW's store, various snowbanks around town, landmarks, buildings, toilets, lamps, and now even power tools!  Power tools!  Um, I like power tools and an image of his Makita cordless drill adorns my desktop right now.  He's got a newer model than my Makita, with a better chuck and longer-lasting battery, but I digress...

The point WAS that he's sending me images from home as I post images from NZ, Myanmar, or wherever and another mutual friend sent pictures from Beijing and the Forbidden City and it has been a nice trade:)  Today, I'll post one of his and one of mine from out here-a sort of juxtaposition that is my life. 

First, home-this is the county courthouse.  It's partially constructed of Jacobsville Sandstone, a competent and often beautiful arenitic ( I think) sandstone locally quarried and used extensively in buildings across the country, especially around the turn of the century.  It has a copper roof and both Mr. Bud and I have spent entirely too much time under that roof.

Then, here-a shot of some NZ graffiti from last crew-x, I believe.  The Maori face is striking for alleyway  graffiti, no?

Peace