The tree outside our window

Every morning I look at it because, well, I can't really help it if I want to see outside. It's right in front of our window, and for the past several months I have seen its barren limbs sway back in forth in the morning breeze before I left for work. But now it's covered in green and I can't see much else when I look out the window. Trite? Possibly. But I really like this time of year. :)

After a fantastic trip to Lincoln last weekend it's been cool to get back to normal with work and whatnot. While we were down there we went to a graduation party for my friend Paul, I got a new personal high bowling score (169 at Hollywood Lanes), and we played a couple games of croquet with my parents in their back yard. My family has never been much for real sports, so we find odd distractions like croquet and do them instead. We used to play constantly when we were kids, and I have recently found that it's, surprisingly, just as much fun as it was when I was younger. Or maybe it's the social aspect of the whole thing, since it is, in many ways, an excuse to stand around and chat with friends and family. My niece also turned 1 year old on Sunday, which was the reason we went for a visit in the first place. She is basically the cutest baby in the world (even though she's not a baby anymore) and it's always fun to see her. Of course there was much Amigo's nachos had as well, and I had a great time visiting with a bunch of friends over the weekend too. :)

Final Cut Express continues to be foreboding, but conquerable, and I am learning more about it every time I use it. Computer things like this can be frustrating, sure, but when something finally works after much trying and fiddling and reading the manual, it's a good feeling. I'm pretty excited about the video I'm doing now, and I have a couple of prospects for summer work too. Ringsmuth Video is still in its infancy, of course, but it's nice to look out and see the possibilies of what lies aheah.

And maybe that's why this is such a good time of year.