So sweet you almost can't stand it...

I hope everyone had a very happy Thanksgiving. Mine was pretty good. In fact, last Thursday, I got to see how the other half lives.

The half with kids.

Remember what it was like to jump on a bed? My nieces and nephews sure do...

The funniest part? While Amelia (front left) was bouncing away, she was singing the "Five Little Monkeys Bouncing on a Bed" song. For those of you who don't know this cautionary tale, it goes something like this:

Five little monkeys bouncing on the bed.
One fell off and bumped his head.
Called the doctor and the doctor said,
"No more monkeys bouncing on the bed."
No more monkeys bouncing on the bed.

It then cycles down to "Zero little monkeys bouncing on the bed..." as they all fall off and hit their heads. I should point out she was smiling and giggling as she did this, knowing all the while she was breaking the law.

Then it was time for the funny faces picture. These kids are prodigies if you ask me.

And now on to the title attraction, Quinn and Neve:
.

This was closer to the end of the evening and they were all wrapped up in their wubbies. Aren't they sweet? No, I mean really, really sweet.

Somewhere, there are little 2-year-old boys who have no idea their hearts will be broken someday.

Yesterday...

Yesterday, Tuesday, Sept. 15, was a good day. A decision on one major aspect of my life was made, and two other developments, unexpected but thoroughly pleasant nonetheless, came to pass. All this followed a wonderful late summer weekend so, basically, I guess I’m tempting the Fates with this post.

So. Be. It.

You may remember earlier this year when I wrote about losing one job only to get hired by another company, in a better position, in the same office later that very same day. To those of you unfamiliar with how the U.S. government works, this is the dealio (and yes, I know most of you reading this live either in or very near the Beltway, but there are some who don’t): Many of the folks who keep this behemoth running aren’t actually employees of the government but, rather, contractors. It’s a pretty cool gig except for one little detail: Every three-to-five years you have to rebid for the work you’re doing and convince the government you’re still the best company for the job.

As I said, earlier this year, the company I used to work for lost its re-compete for our contract and like that *snaps fingers* I and my coworkers were out on our asses. No job, no paycheck, no benefits. Nada. Simply said, it sucked big, sweaty monkey balls.

But, like I said, I fell into it and came up smelling like Buffalo wings and cheesesteaks (Hey, I’m a guy, those things are like Channel No. 5 to us). The only little detail was that the contract I moved to was up for re-bid over the summer. We worked our asses off in June and July, put together a KICK-ASS proposal, submitted it and…waited. It was kinda like the Sitzkieg of 1939-40.

Until yesterday.

The boss called us all together at 8:30 and, with a hangdog expression on his face, said, “I got the word last night and……….We won!”

There you go, I’ve got a job for the next five years. That was the big news.

Right on the heels of that meeting, I went into another with my client who told me, now that we’d won the contract, his boss was reorganizing the office. Instead of supervising four, sometimes surly, people who don’t even work for my company, they will be moving out to other positions and replaced by people from my company who will actually work for me. I believe the term is management. Seriously, after years in journalism – a generally solitary profession – this is the first time I’ll actually have people working for me since I was a 23-year-old Marine corporal.

Heady wine indeed.

And finally, speaking of wine, well, actually water, my brother called me as I was on my way home from one of the better days in the office in a very long time. Trust me, that sentence will make sense.

The result of our conversation is I’m to be Godfather to my niece, Neve, when she and her sister, Quinn, are baptized next month. Here, aren’t they cute? (Neve’s the one on the left with the drool on her chin. Awww.)

This picture’s kinda old, it was taken back in April when they were 5 months old, but they’re still the sweetest little girls.

So to ‘splain, no, there is too much, let me sum up: My contract got renewed for 5 more years, I’m actually a going to be a real manager now and my brother trusts me to not totally screw up.

Now all I have to do is keep looking up for the falling safe.

An Early Christmas Blessing

Just got the word from my brother, he and his wife welcomed Quinn Patricia and Neve Darriel into their family late yesterday evening.

Mother and daughters are all doing well, although Mom is, as can be expected, a bit tired. 

I am, of course, as delighted as can be and I'm looking forward to seeing nieces numbers six and seven (to go along with nephews numbers one, two and three) just as soon as possible.