Clover praying for me to wake up.

Another day come and gone. Today I was in a management meeting and we were talking about work... of course. Anyway, One of the guys was talking about interviews, and how one of his interviewees was explaining about how they just wanted to be able to make a difference. The point was brought up about how every day so many people come through our doors, and we have an opportunity to make each one of their days. I was almost jumping out of my seat when he was talking about this because that is pretty much the primary reason that I work in the field that I do, because I love to make people's days. I get paid to make your day. That is how I see my job. It is pretty awesome to know for a fact that the Director of Operations for my company is on the same page as I am... and not just from an email or voice recording that I should read or listen to when I find time, but the fact that he felt the need to explain how he felt in a company wide meeting. Pretty cool stuff.
Enough about work.

I love my little Clover Bear. She is just melting my heart without even trying. I know she needs to sleep. I know her sleeping pattern is the bane of my wife's existence right now. I also know that I love having the chance to see her bright little eyes, albeit very sleepy eyes, when I get home. I also know that I love to see my wifey's smiley face when I come home and Clover is sleeping like a... baby? Maybe not our baby, but more like a baby in fairy tales.
We have a minivan. We bought it about two weeks ago. I sold the old green car, and bought a minivan. Oh man. Talk about growing up. I don't even know how to explain how it feels. The day we brought it home, I was backing out of my parent's driveway, in the van, full of kids, all four of them, Kristin was sitting shotgun. My parents were standing in the driveway waving good bye, just like in the movies. I couldn't help but stop and laugh at trying to imagine what was going through their heads... was it like a dream come true for them, Pete has finally grown up enough to not only warrant, but actually utilize a minivan? I know for a fact there was no way they could have been holding their breath waiting for it to happen. But I couldn't help but imagine what must have been going through their heads. Maybe I will ask next time I see them.

I really felt like this little conversation belongs in the book... a little bit of background... it is salsa season. Both the tomatoes and the peppers in my parents garden are ripening. My wife has gone over and made and canned salsa with my mom a couple of times now. One day about a week or so ago, I got a text from work asking me to stop and get chips and salsa on the way to work. I brought some of the fresh salsa and chips. The whole quart jar was devoured in less than 5 minutes, and one of the people actually asked me to call my wife and tell her that it was the best salsa that they had ever had, bar the stuff that they made with their husband, but that was purely for sentimental reasons... based on flavor, the stuff I brought was number one. The next day I came in with my lunch packed, and everyone was enjoying a Friday breakfast, and before the door even shut, someone asked if I brought more salsa. I took out the stuff that my wife packed in my lunch and put it on a table. The scene after that reminded me of puppies looking for a spot to nurse. Sooooo, I asked my wifey to make a bunch of pints next time she was canning so that I could bring them to work and give them away.
I did that today. All the jars were claimed promptly.
One of my guys took his jar to the back and opened it and started drinking it from the jar. Yes, drinking it right from the jar.
-“Hey guy, do you need some chips or something?”
-“No, the thing I like about your wife's salsa is that you can drink it down and it don't burn or nothin'.”
-“Holy crap dude. I gotta write that down.”
-“What? To bring more salsa tomorrow?”
I had to walk away because he was dead serious. I couldn't handle it. I love this guy. He is just too funny without even trying. Ohhh man.