We had burgers for dinner last night, and got into a conversation about hamburgers and their names, in general; how a hamburger isn't made of ham, and so a burger made with bear meat (for example) could, in fact, not necessarily be called a "bearburger".
During this conversation, somehow the trademark name of a burger came up in topic: The Quarter Pounder.
It was an interesting weekend for us; there was a lot going on. Both Riley and Abby had sports events. On Saturday Riley had a baseball game at Hickory Park and Abby had a soccer game at Fellowship Fields (at which I was "coaching"). Shortly after Abby's game, Riley and I left for Camden to camp on the battleship New Jersey with a group from Pack 32.
The kids had a lot of summer vacation. I think it was pretty filled this year. We had a couple of project weeks, where we organized some activities and research for the kids each week at a time. These weeks were occasionally interrupted by holidays, trips to the beach with the grandparents, organized day camps, and play dates with friends.
In the beginning of August, I shuttered my consulting practice and took on a full-time position with ownCloud. I spent a week in Berlin at the yearly developer conference, and got to meet a lot of my remote co-workers. So far, the work has been constant, interesting, and rewarding.
I got a mysterious Tweet from someone I don't know after I posted a photo of our recent back yard camping experiment: "@ringmaster Check out that Flickr gallery using Flickrock! flickrock.com/asy"
So that's odd. Why are my copyrighted photos appearing on this other person's web site? Hey, look! All of my friend's public Flickr account photos are being re-published there, too! That's not cool.
A month or so ago, I took a walk around the neighborhood with Berta, as we often do after dinner when there's still light out and the heat isn't overbearing. These walks often contain what feels like awkward silence, or rather, they would if I would ever shut up. For whatever reason, regardless of the breathlessness the pace and incline induces on my completely out-of-shape and asthmatic self, I can't help but take the opportunity to fill the silence with some chatter. At some point, I'll have to ask Berta if she feels this is my habit and whether she'd rather walk silently, since although she does contribute, I feel like she'd rather just walk with her thoughts unpolluted.
Anyway, it was on this one walk when I found myself resisting the urge to offer the usual rhetorical diarrhea, and instead focused on some of my own internal contemplation. It was actually a really nice day, I remember. The temperature was just what you'd want in an early summer evening. The sky was not cloudless, but full of colorful pink and purple twilight-lit clouds. No cars on the road and a gentle, comfortable breeze.