Precisely at the halfway point of my umpteenth rereading of the Belgariad series (which will be followed by an equal umpteenth reread of the Malloreon), I am still inclined to hope that someone defies author David Eddings's wishes and finds a way to put the story on film. I'm sorry, late Mr. Eddings. I want to see it. I won't stop reading. I promise.
I had another morning meeting, but at least this one was more interesting. It was about active shooter situations. I didn't get bacon, but I got a surprisingly good yogurt. And coffee. The lessons were for HR professionals to establish policies and train their employees for active shooter situations. Our office is wide open with no hiding places, a glass front and in an industry that pisses people off on a daily basis. And our HR office is located several states away and has no concern for its employees. We're screwed. *** It's Friday evening and I'm home and cozy and out of the cold, wet, icky outness out there. But I'm hungry. No problem. My 17-year-old daughter has a life - meaning she's out. So I texted her to bring home sushi. Parents, don't miss out on the opportunity to take full advantage of your children. (If you feel the slightest bit guilty, just remember those nights you had to run out to the only store that was open at 10 p.m. on a Thu...
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