On Saturday I had a bit of a 'Dinner And Wine And Board Games' evening with Bryan and Cat, along with Danielle, the pilot from New Orleans I met a few weeks ago. We had a great time living the yuppie lifestyle for an evening. I made lasagna and Cat made pineapple upside-down cake and we played Apples 2 Apples and Cranium and Eat Poop You Cat.

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Last week I discovered a pretty sizeable aviation messageboard called Pilots Of America, and made a few posts introducing myself and contributing to conversations. They're a very knowledgeable and friendly bunch of people.

Last night I got a message from a girl on the board named Danielle who lives in New Orleans and just got her private pilot's license a few months ago. She invited me onto this web-based chat hosted by the messageboard, and it turned out there was another pilot there, Steve, who is also in the general area — about 100 miles north of here (which isn't all that much in an airplane).

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Well, I've become quite a punctual person lately, at least with regards to getting to work. For the longest time, it was pretty much standard for me to leave for work right around the time I was ostensibly supposed to be arriving (or later), so it was normal for me to arrive between 20-40 minutes late for work. This wasn't too big a deal, as nobody here really minds. However, now that I'm working 8pm-6am, I relieve the daytime guys, who work 10am-8pm, and often they are the only ones here. So if I'm late, they have to stay late and wait for me. Thus, punctuality became more important. Surprisingly, I realized today that I've actually managed to make the transformation. I now get here between 745-8pm very reliably, usually walking in the door right around 7:58. It's a very satisfying and rewarding feeling, sort of like the experience of turning in an assignment that I experienced occasionally. I never would have thought I could actually learn to be on time for anything. Take that, Danielle, not coming out with us just because I was 45 minutes late to pick you up! And yet you kept my stuffed cow that moos three times. But victory is mine!! Except you still have my cow. And my sweatshirt.