Hello from Wichita
People are always amazed I've ended up in Wichita. There are still Pennsylvania license plates on the Jeep, and while I was filling up the other day, some Wichitan - yep, that's what the natives are called here - glanced at the plates and asked, "Man, what brought you here?"
A great job, for starters. I've been given a lot of freedom, unlike the last place. One of my former colleagues, a lovely lady named Monica, labeled our old workplace "The Place We Do Not Speak Of," an homage to M. Night Shyamalan's much-panned "The Village." They appreciate me here, for which I'm grateful. And the people in the Midwest - say it with me if you've spent any time here - are so nice. Too nice, in fact. Enough so that my suspicious East Coast senses are always on alert.
It's flat. It's slow. It's Nov. 6, and it's 70 degrees. But for now, it's home. And that's OK.
A great job, for starters. I've been given a lot of freedom, unlike the last place. One of my former colleagues, a lovely lady named Monica, labeled our old workplace "The Place We Do Not Speak Of," an homage to M. Night Shyamalan's much-panned "The Village." They appreciate me here, for which I'm grateful. And the people in the Midwest - say it with me if you've spent any time here - are so nice. Too nice, in fact. Enough so that my suspicious East Coast senses are always on alert.
It's flat. It's slow. It's Nov. 6, and it's 70 degrees. But for now, it's home. And that's OK.
posted by J-Mart at 4:02 PM
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