Oh, what a beautiful morning� I look out the window and think how blessed I am, how the Universe has come together, or however it works, to bless me�don�t be jealous. I see all the things that make my life so splendid--a light blanket of clouds overhead, threatening rain; a portly man in cowboy boots, hems of his jeans a-drag, talking on his cell phone; a yellow garden hose strewn across the sidewalk and over the front tire of a blue bicycle parked at a bike rack marked, oddly, BIKE RACK II. Son of Bike Rack, I guess. I never saw the original bike rack, so I can�t comment on its replacement except to say that it seems to be doing a great job.

Today, in a passive-aggressive response to yesterday�s Cinnamon Fest, wherein one of my coworkers arrived at my desk every hour or so to announce that she smelled cinnamon that was not apparent to me, I brought in instant oatmeal, cinnamon flavor. �You smell phantom cinnamon?� I thought, mixing the oatmeal with a clear plastic spoon I found in the box marked FOR MEETINGS ONLY!!! THIS MEANS YOU!!! �Here�s your phantom cinnamon! Only it�s not a phantom any more!� That occurred at approximately 8:45, and it�s now nearly noon, with no reports from said coworker about cinnamon, or indeed, spice of any kind.

My work projects are at a lull, my boss (barely recovered from a wasting disease, and only marginally present, mentally) in a meeting. I�m in that no-man�s land between work and leisure where, if I had a normal job, I could leave the building and walk uptown. When I worked in San Francisco, my coworker and I would often take advantage of these moments to stroll uptown to FAO Schwartz to review the new Barbie shoe inventory, or to Walgreen�s, which we called �The Walg,� for beauty supplies. Then, we�d stop by Perry�s for lunch and a glass of Champagne. (Note: if you drink at lunch, order a pint of the darkest beer on the menu�in case you are discovered by coworkers, your glass will appear to be full of Diet Coke. Then, remember not to breathe on anyone.) There is no FAO Schwartz nor Walgreen�s here, and I�m not permitted to randomly leave the building to swan around downtown, so I�m left with a choice between starting a new filing project and painting my nails. Stay tuned for updates on this exciting development!

The Keelhauler called with the latest chapter in this month�s Productivity Parade. He�s been on a kick since his parents called to say they were coming for a visit. Last week, he installed a new mast boot (�thing that keeps water from running down the mast and into the boat�) and then put new waterproof speakers in the cockpit, along with many other notable accomplishments. �Let�s do our taxes!� he suggested last night, as we were having dinner. I hated to nix the idea, but owing to my own laziness, I did, and ordered another Greyhound.

Tonight, the band is rehearsing. We may, if so inspired, come up with a new activity for our next gig. Last time, we held a raffle, but there are only so many raffles a single band can hold before the experience begins to pall. I believe that one is the limit, and we have reached it. So, if you have any stellar ideas for an activity, please let me know. (Activities outside of �try to play decently,� �be entertaining,� or �stop fucking up.�)

Do you smell cinnamon?

Star of the day. . .Lucky Jad Peters