Getting down to business

Ah, much better. El Mariachi is on the tube. I've turned off the air conditioning so that by the time I walk my steak from the fridge to the desk, it should be just about as cooked as I want it. A bottle of Boulevard Wheat in is sitting the freezer until it's perfectly chilled.

Yeah, baby. We can make this work.

Between the time I spend online anyway, let alone right now, and the time the Significant Other will be spending on the road with two kids this weekend, we decided to finally give in to the cell phone trend. Nothing fancy -- there's a place down the street where you can pick up reconditioned phones with an hour of prepaid time for $20 each. The seven-year-old picked out mine. It's a Nokia with a Spiderman faceplate. I think he hopes to inherit.

I friggin' hate cell phones. It's bad enough that anyone who wants to can make a bell ring in my house (and then expect me to listen to them) ... but my pocket? Sadly, they've become a necessity, just like every luxury eventually does. As the election cycle proceeds, I guess you'll eventually see me out on the trail in my best only suit -- putting together events, working media contacts, walking precincts ... and talking incessantly into my Spiderman phone.

The world, it do keep on turning.

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