Fern goes to the U.S. Open

I call myself "Fern" in this blog post because somewhere along the lines of our brother-sister relationship, my brother thought it funny to coin me "Fernando". Fernando might bring to mind the image of dashing Latino, or daring bandito, such as the one above. Perhaps with one of those twine mustaches that are curled up on the end in such a way that makes your skin crawl. Or you might think of the mariachi band at your local cantina. This Fernando name was funny at first. I used to laugh. But then it stuck, and to this day I frequently receive text messages with "My Fernando.." And that's about it.

When I texted him to tell him that i returned from Croatia safely, it was "My Fernando!" in return. *shrug*

So Fern is going to the US Open! The Brother scored tickets, and even The Parents are going. I think they were excited because they made it out to San Diego from Phoenix in less than 12 hours this time, which is a huge record-setter for them. I'm excited about this not only because I pretend to follow golf and I like to sport the occasional cute golf skirt, but there'll be cute golf boys. And it'll be great to see my family in a setting neither stressful or sad, but relaxing. Beer in one hand, a view of Tiger, yadda yadda.

I write this as I sit among piles of dust-clad binders and filing boxes that haven't been opened in two years. Pictures are leaning against the walls and packing tape is stacked on tables, waiting to be used. Among the boxes and papers and binders you can find random piles of bagels and some fresh fruit.

We're moving floors here at work next week.

This means that in my new seating assignment I'll sit one seat away from The Girl Who Won't Stop Calling Me. I won't be able to ignore her phone calls now (and yes, I assume she'll keep calling) so I'm going to have to figure out another routine. I might have to start bringing in my iPod and using that as a good excuse; drown her out in the tunes.

This is Fernando. Signing Off.