Travelling computer consultants are a strange group.
We all have two places we call home.

We're broke between contracts, and rich during contracts.
Most people don't want to see us when we're broke, and that's usually when we are hiding in our real homes.

We've done things or are doing things that are outside the realm of normality.
One buddy is walking across the country, another has programmed the Space Shuttle, and another is bartending.
Some flourished with their own companies during the dot com boom, just to fall back into consulting.

You never hear about us, but we do change the world.
I've done some world-first, including adding some stuff to the ATM screens that you see all over the country.

Usually, we come in, do incredible projects, make it work and leave.
If it fails - We are responsible because we are idiots. Fortunately, I've never failed.
If it works - Others are responsible. They almost always get promoted. 
The consultants either move on, go full time, or become managers and never code again.
Rarely, if ever, our names get mentioned anywhere. We almost never get CC'd on the "Job well done" email from the CEO.

But still, it gets into the blood.
We know what we've done. Our abilities to work either independantly or in a group, has molded our ways of thinking.
The travelling is great, the money is good, and we've gotten used to saying "Hello" and "Goodbye".
At night, we either go insane with thought, or we're happy and we do things most locals would never even consider doing.
Its an emotional roller coaster, and the adrenalene rush is addictive.
And it would be hard for me to stop.

(Spoken after 15 years of consulting, 5 years on the road, and 27 years in the business)

Airbeds - Our second airbed has gone flat in just one week.
It turned out our cot had a sharp edge. I wonder if there are other professionals out there who have had this problem. BTW - I'm not sure when or how I got so strange. Its happened slowly after 15 years of consulting.

It's 3am on a Monday, and as usual, I can't wait to go to work.

Jennifer went back to Vegas last Saturday, and I already miss her.
So now, when I say we, I mean Becky and I.
On the flip side, instead of doing just teenage things, we can do adult things too. I'm thinking Concerts!

Rob Truckin on Facebook
I guess that I can hold you
one more time before you grow.
And tell you that I love you
so that you will always know.
Please let me tie your shoe again.
...One day you'll tie your own.
And when you think back to this time
I hope it's love I've shown.
Can I help you put your coat on?
Can I please cut up your meat?
Can I pull you in the wagon?
Can I pick you out a treat?
One day you might just care for me,
so let me care for you.
I want to be a part
of every little thing you do.
Tonight could I please brush your hair?
Can I put toys in the bath?
Can I help you count your small ten toes
before I teach you math?
Before you join a softball team
can I pitch you one more ball?
And one more time can I stand near
to make sure you don't fall?
Let's take another space-ship ride
Up to the Planet Zoor.
Before our Cardboard Rocket
doesn't fit us anymore.
Please let me help you up the hill.
while you're still too small to climb.
And let me read you stories
while you're young and have the time.
I know the day will come
when you will do these things alone.
Will you recall the shoulder rides
and all the balls we've thrown?
I want you to grow stronger
than your Dad could ever be.
And when you find success
there will be no soul more proud than me.
So will you let me carry you?
One day you'll walk alone.
I cannot bear to miss one day
from now until you've grown.

She has been so much fun!
We've done a lot of travelling and beach combing in this Tampa Bay Area.
But this is probably the worst time of the year to be here. It's hot and extemely humid.
Tuesday, she gave quite the scare.
She had an asthma attack. Here's my take on that:
Medical care is such nightmare these days. 
Jennifer had an asthma attack and she's on Nevada Medicaid. Medicaid is only covered out-of-state in Emergency rooms.
We found one, and after 2 hours they put her in one of those little rooms where she waited for 2 hours.
Finally after they gave her an XRay, a breathing treatment and a prescription. The whole thing took 5 hours.
It makes me wonder how many people don't survive in those little rooms.
This makes me think
If she didn't have any kind of insurance, I'm sure that visit would have cost $1,000.
For $1,000, she could have flown her to Mexico or Canada, where she could stayed in a nice motel, and she could have bought Albuterol over the counter for $12.
Of course, she could have had a bird flu, in which case, everyone in the Emergency Room might have caught it.
Scary!

It was pouring sheets of rain and I was listening to "The Only Living Boy in New York" in the Westshore Mall parking lot.
Lightening was all around me.
And I was feeling alone, smiling, thinking I was the Only Living Boy who has ever really listened to that song.
It was a good day to have the blues.
I'd heard some things said that took me there
I probably shouldn't listen or care.
Listening attempts to add thought to what is being said, and most of what is said is without thought.
Caring hurts, when what is heard malicious or cold, either through mindlessnes, or out of lack of empathy.
Sometimes I feel like the world is trampling flowers while I'm walking around them.
And I wonder, what is the point.