Fairwell, Zigmund
Ziggy was a good hamster. He was a little black furball of little black furballs. He gave us nearly three years. And he finally bought the tank.
Diane noticed that something stinketh this morning. Uh oh. She lifted his igloo, and there he was, curled up taking the celestial cedar shavings nap. He seemed healthy to the end, so we have to attribute it to old age. I'm sure I saw him out and about two days ago, so he musta checked out yesterday. At least he far outlived Zoe (Mrs. Ziggy), and their one offspring we kept, Zuckerman, yeah, named after the farmer in Charlotte's Web.
Gosh, hammies don't have a long lifespan, when you're used to 15 to 20 years from cats and dogs.
Home life is recovering from 11 days of County Fair mode. Diane's busy with followup tasks, along with her normal full schedule. It's all about investing; in our girls, in our jobs, in our future together, so it's all worthwhile.
It's still kind of wacky crazee at work, and probably will be into next spring. As always, I'm not griping, 'cause God is providing, and besides, the alternative ain't fun. I'm not hearing much good about the IT job market lately. It's not like the good old days when you could count on at least one or two recruiter calls a month. The economy's changing and adapting, as it alway's has, it's just growing in other directions (and countries!)
Matthew 6:34: Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

