The parking lot here at work outside my window is full of two semi-flatbed trucks and a 30 foot crane. They've brought the environment chamber for the burn in and R&D testing. It's about the size of an eight foot by eight foot cube. It's blue. There are also compressors heaters and ventilation systems for the thing. This is the last of the consolidation with the Alameda offices with the San Jose manufacturing office, now closed.
The guys on the trucks also brought a huge dog with them. He's playing with a two foot chunk of 4x4 lumber like it's a fetching stick. Naturally, when Clara, the little Russian lady who is an incorrigible dog lover came in this morning, through the parking lot, she stopped and got a kiss from the monster. I didn't know what kind of pooch it was, so I strolled over to her office to ask, and told her that I wanted to be sure she still had both arms. He's a pit bull.
I'm running on fumes this morning. I had a bout of insomnia again last night. I really should have gotten some more useful work done, like a couple of loads of laundry or something, but I didn't think of it. Instead I read some web comics and worked on a finders fee agreement for Tom for when we get an investor to sign over some capital. I felt like a wrung-out dishrag when I woke up this morning, and I was a bit wired in the shower and getting ready for work, but I've got my second wind, and that didn't even involve caffeine, yet. Memo to myself: lack of sleep breaks the Tennessee Ernie Ford voice, "Sixteen Tons," the shower, and insomnia don't mix. Other than the visit by the dark eye circles that got me called "raccoon" in grade school though, I'm pretty much not detectable as someone who's only had two and a half hours of sleep. It bit me Saturday and Sunday nights as well, but that was only until about two AM. Hmm, wonder how long this one's going to go. I suspect that it will burn out tonight and I'll sleep like a dead guy. That'll play.
I'm headed for the coffee shop in about half an hour. Tom is probably going to be going on about that finder's fee agreement. I e-mailed it to him this morning. I can understand why he's wanting to get the thing done. We've all been working on a verbal agreement on it for two years, but really, Robert's in Guatemala until Saturday anyway. Ah well, at least I got the damned thing hacked together. Hopefully, well have a healthy chunk of investment capital in the bank soon. I'm hoping by the second week of March, myself.
Clara just walked by my cube in a heavy suede jacket and scarf. What the heck? This is a former Russian? She acclimated to California years ago, unfortunately for her. Unless the building's on fire, she's freezing. The capacitor bank control to my left says it's 72°F in here. The thermometer says 68°F. Maybe Clara's office is colder. It's hard to say with the heating system around here -- it's whacked.
The damned cap bank gave me a scare yesterday. I'm testing the darned controls. One of the ways these controls work, is on a clock -- the capacitor bank is in (connected to the power lines) at certain programmable times, and out at other times. Yesterday morning I was freaking because both of the damned controllers in my cube had the banks OUT when the programmed operation times said they ought to be IN. I couldn't find any mitigating circumstance that would reverse this condition (like a high voltage override) and I was fearing the worst (software bug). Fortunately, one of the application engineers happened by and I mentioned my disaster and he reminded me that it was President's Day. Oh. Yup. The controls default to treating that as a holiday. D'Oh! Insomnia and testing do NOT mix.
Fifteen minutes until I hit the road for lunch. I'm getting hungry. As is typical for a weekday, I'm off to Peets Coffee to meet with Tom. I usually get the same thing every time. I stop across the street at the Viva Mexico and get a burrito and chips and then go over to Peets Coffee and get a medium mocha with whipped cream and a strawberry scone. Then Robert, Tom, Don, and I sit down at the table and plot to change the world, or at minimum, our circumstance. Don has been up to his eyebrows at work the past couple of weeks and hasn't been able to get away for lunch, but the two of us are headed over there today. We have the corporate account set up and Robert and Don now have corporate credit cards. This is good, but we need to change the account parameters. We want to fix it so that it takes two signatures to pull any cash and so that all four of us are on the account. I suppose that will have to wait until Robert gets back on Saturday -- not that it matters a lot at the moment -- the only money in the account now is the money which we all put in to purchase our founder's stock -- a little over a thousand dollars. Heh. The stock is worth one thousandth of a cent right now. It is up to us to turn it into the most valuable investment in our lives.
"For they conquer, who believe they can."
-- John Dryden
Robert was looking for rental properties again, before leaving on vacation last Wednesday. He's looking around Berkeley for a place where we can set up offices and an electronics lab. Tom continues to scout around for funding. We have four prospects with whom we are talking now. He has us lined up with one who looks extremely promising, and he is supposed to be coming to the Bay Area to meet with us again and discuss our project plans and discuss a possible investment sometime within the next two weeks. Tom has an amazing network of interesting and surprising contacts. Joe is an interesting fellow. I'm not sure what to make of his investor potential, but he's quite amiable.
Last week, when we were there and got up to leave Peets, Tom went to pick up my plate and mug to return the dishes to the back counter. I tugged them out of his hand so that I could take them back. He gave me a quizzical look until I explained that I don't mind walking back there myself. I like the scenery. A very pretty lady works back there. She has lovely eyes. There is something unusual about them, in the shape, I think, which is very aesthetically pleasing, but I cannot put my finger on what exactly it is yet. The color is something dark -- a deep brown or gray or maybe a very dark hazel. Other than her eyes though, the first thing I noticed about her, was her almost waist-length brunette hair, which is deliciously healthy looking, having a silky sheen, like mink. I can't look at it without imagining the feel of it running over my hands and between my fingers. It is a hair-do which arouses an impulse in one that the redoubtable fearsclave once described as "a fierce urge to dishevel." She has a nice figure, and a small tattoo of a flower, it appears, at the base of her spine, which peeks out when her back is turned and her top rides up a bit. At first, I thought she was the odd-girl-out at Peets, as everyone there is just a tad "tattoo happy" but I was mistaken. You've got to admire her sense of moderation though, given the very "decorative" people with whom she works.
Lunch calls. I'm outta here.