I'm knee deep in earnings season. Every time I finish reviewing one earnings call transcript - they average fifteen pages - another company reports and the stack grows. It reminds me a little bit of raking the fall leaves. I could wait until all the leaves are down and clean them up all at once, but unfortunately our house used to be a tree farm. It wouldn't be a good idea. In fact, I might just give up. Reviewing the earnings of sixty companies or so each quarter is no different. Pacing is key and so is an occasional break.
Well, it's break time...
Last week, my eleven year old daughter caught a virus and had to visit the pediatrician. She noticed that he had a "cool" hairdo that he combed up and over his bald spot and suggested to my wife that maybe I could do the same thing. Nice. C'mon, my bald spot isn't that big! To prove it, I took out my iPhone and took a picture of the back of my head.
Ouch! I guess it's grown since the last time I checked it out. But I'm still not doing a combover, no matter how cool my eleven year old thinks it might be.
My wife got some innocent jabbing of her own this week as well. Johnny, our first grader, disclosed at dinner last night that two girls in his class had asked if his lunchmom-mommy was pregnant. Double Ouch. She's definitely NOT pregnant, nor is she in the least bit heavy. (I love you honey!) Since our youngest is now at school all day, we went the puppy route instead. Here's a picture of our Maggie, our new yellow lab.
Finally, if you want some "new normal" fun the whole family can enjoy, check out the Fatbooth App. For 99 cents, you and the family will never have to wonder what if daddy was pregnant...
Triple Ouch. Fatboothed five minutes ago.
Okay, break over. Back to the grindstone....
Well, it's break time...
Last week, my eleven year old daughter caught a virus and had to visit the pediatrician. She noticed that he had a "cool" hairdo that he combed up and over his bald spot and suggested to my wife that maybe I could do the same thing. Nice. C'mon, my bald spot isn't that big! To prove it, I took out my iPhone and took a picture of the back of my head.
Ouch! I guess it's grown since the last time I checked it out. But I'm still not doing a combover, no matter how cool my eleven year old thinks it might be.
My wife got some innocent jabbing of her own this week as well. Johnny, our first grader, disclosed at dinner last night that two girls in his class had asked if his lunchmom-mommy was pregnant. Double Ouch. She's definitely NOT pregnant, nor is she in the least bit heavy. (I love you honey!) Since our youngest is now at school all day, we went the puppy route instead. Here's a picture of our Maggie, our new yellow lab.
Finally, if you want some "new normal" fun the whole family can enjoy, check out the Fatbooth App. For 99 cents, you and the family will never have to wonder what if daddy was pregnant...
Triple Ouch. Fatboothed five minutes ago.
Okay, break over. Back to the grindstone....