Warning: Personal information dump ahead. You have been warned.
Last weekend the limber and scrumdiddlyumtious mrs tbogg and I finally got around to seeing Sideways because we are nothing if not a year behind the times. We thought, like the wine described in the film, that we should give the film some time to breathe until it reached its full flavor and other wine yadda yadda that people are always going on and on about.
Okay. That’s not the real reason because it’s kind of stupid.
The real reason is that this weekend the LAS mrs tbogg is moving to Santa Barbara (where parts of Sideways were shot) to begin a new job and I will be following her soon, if by soon I mean Septemberish 2007 (I have already given my current employers my 20-month notice). You see, besides being hotter than Georgia asphalt, mrs tbogg is also quite the business executive (executrix?) and after months of haggling she got an offer that she (and we) couldn’t refuse. And so we will be setting up a second household in Santa Barbara and she’ll commute back to San Diego by train on weekends. Casey and I will stay behind ( and probably eat at Tokyo House every night so that we don’t have to cook) so that she can finish out high school and then off to college for her and off to Santa Barbara for me. Needless to say the dogs will stay here since they are rooted to the bed.
Long term this means that mrs tbogg and I will in the near future become Santa Barbarians and turn in our San Diego Native ID cards and decoder rings. This is kind of weird in that, when we bought our current house, we bought it planning to stay and grow old and die in it. Okay, we didn’t use those exact words, but you get the idea. As I have pointed out before, I have never lived anywhere outside of the greater Pacific Beach area for more than a short while and, although Santa Barbara is pretty darn similar to San Diego,(mrs tbogg calls it “a big friggin’ La Jolla”), it’s still not home.
In addition I guess I have to start thinking about the next stop in my career. I’m leaning towards sushi chef but only if I don’t have to touch that slimey fish. Ick. Gross.
I can’t speak for mrs tbogg (not that that has ever stopped me before), but I’m pretty sure that during the week she will miss (in order):
2. The dogs.
3. Me. But only because I am the proud owner of Mr Tbogg’s Wild Ride, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
Blogging should stay about the same which is probably all that you care about, you greedy selfish me-me-me bastards, but if there are any changes, well, you’ll probably notice because you are the smartest blog readers a blogger could ever wish for.
Except for you in the grey sweatpants. Put on a shirt for God’s sake…